#even for a light skinned mixed girl this is ridiculous...

[koka-mi]

Can my mom do this cool thing called let me go outside and talk to ppl that'd be great thanks

[lymtw]

Thinking about those soft, nonsexual, intimate moments where you and Toji are lying in bed, with you on top of him. You're straddling him and your arms are thrown over his shoulders, clinging onto him like a little koala. Your face is buried into his neck and your eyes are shut as you bask in the warmth of his body.

"What's wrong, baby?" He asks, letting his arms come up to rest on your back. Having Toji's arms around you was like leaving every bad thing you've ever experienced behind. He radiated the warmth of a thousand suns, and it soothed you like nothing else.

You didn't respond to his question, instead your lips pressed to his neck, brushing against him with the gentleness of a light breeze. You're smart enough to know that if you kiss him too hard, it'll start a fire in a moment where one isn't necessary.

He's smiling, softly, at your sign of affection. His palms rub your back, comfortingly, with little to no pressure. Toji is all for having sex with you, all the time and anytime. He's well versed in this method of intimacy with you, but he's not an emotionless machine. He recognizes well enough when you need more than an orgasm. He understands that you have a heart, and sometimes it needs to be tended to, regardless of whether it's damaged or not. Sometimes you just want to feel loved, and when times like these are presented to him, who is he to ridicule you for needing him?

He chuckles, softly. "Just wanna love on me, don't you, baby?"

His hands lower to the hem of your shirt, sliding beneath it to get to the warmth of your bare skin. The tranquilizing motions on your back return.

"Just need you to be with me, right now," you mumble into his neck. "I know this probably seems weird, but I just wanna stay like this for a while."

"Shh... you're alright, my sweet girl. We can be quiet for a bit."

You go back to lazily kissing his neck. You can feel his heartbeat thrumming against your lips, a rhythm that makes your own heart start to pick up that same pace. You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, pausing your movements to appreciate the distinct smell of his cologne. It makes you want to squeeze him until he can't breathe, or at least attempt to squeeze him that hard.

"Toji," you say, quietly, like you're saying it to yourself.

"Hm?" He responds, stilling his hands.

"Nothing. Just wanted to say your name. I like saying your name."

Another laugh rumbles through his chest, the movement shaking you a little. "It's yours to say."

"Can I keep saying it? Until it doesn't sound like a name anymore?"

He smiles, pulling one hand out of your shirt to place it on the nape of your neck. "By all means. Don't need my permission."

You giggle, the sound so clear beneath Toji's ear. If he had the warmth of a thousand suns, you had the beauty of the night's guiding moon.

"Toji," you say, softly. After every repetition of his name, you ghost your lips all over his neck. Toji thinks he could stay like this for longer than a bit. He feels at ease, knowing you're there, acting as his most cherished blanket. He feels so light, like he's not even in his body anymore. You don't even know how happy he is. You can't see the soft smile on his face and how it's failing to disappear.

"Toji," you repeated one last time.

He had lost track of how many times you said his name, but not once did he get tired of hearing it. He wanted to answer your call, this time. "Yeah, baby?"

"Love you."

In all your gentleness and loving, you offered him serenity, and he enveloped himself in it. If your love could be bottled, he would live off of it. He would cook it into his every day meals. He would blend it into his protein shakes. He would bathe in it. He would mix it with his cologne. He would live off of it like it's the secret to a life spent with you loving him the way you do. So what if he's addicted? It seems like the perfect way to go.

Toji could hear your light breathing. You stopped kissing him, and your arms went limp on his shoulders. You fell asleep. It was a common occurrence whenever you shared moments like these with him. It was the security, and his embrace, and his warmth, and his scent... all things that made you feel safe enough to doze off.

He pressed multiple quick kisses to your temple. Both of his arms returned to your torso, wrapping around it with a slightly tighter hold than before. "Love you, too, mama," he muttered against your temple. He ended up falling asleep to the sound of your breathing.

[inheritedbelly]

From Arrogant Princess to Manual Laborer

It was my day off, and I was already bored just thinking about staying still. As I walked down the sidewalk, my mind full of disdain for that stifling day, I spotted a manual laborer leaning against the wall next to the shop. He was only wearing pants, his sweaty, exposed body making his repulsive appearance even worse. He was an old, pot-bellied man with sticky skin from all the sweat, and the graying hair scattered across his arms and chest only made him uglier. The mere sight of that man made me nauseous.

For some inexplicable reason, he flashed a feeble smile when he saw me approaching and said in a hoarse voice, "Good morning, pretty girl."

That irritated me deeply. Who did he think he was? I responded, full of disgust: "Shut up, you ridiculous fool." The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a look of sadness. He lowered his head, clearly hurt, and went back to his heavy work, but I didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t my problem. I left home that morning determined to waste some of my time on something trivial. That's when I passed by that little esoteric shop in the city center, almost hidden between a café and a clothing store. I went in, more out of curiosity than real interest. The place was a mess of trinkets, smelling of cheap incense, with lighting that seemed to come from melted candles. "So ridiculous," I thought, smirking in disdain.

"Can I help you with something, dear?" the clerk asked in a soft, almost irritating voice. The way she looked at me, as if she knew something I didn't, made me uncomfortable. But I wasn't going to show it.

"Oh, I'm just looking. These things… they're funny, aren't they?" I replied, not hiding the sarcasm in my voice. She didn't seem fazed.

"Sometimes, the funny things have more power than we imagine," she said, with that tone that only made me want to laugh more.

She looked at me for a moment, as if she were assessing me, and then said, "I have something you might want to see." Without waiting for my response, she went to the back of the shop and returned with a small metal amulet, hanging from a black cord. It looked cheap, worthless.

"This amulet can reveal a person's true nature. Maybe it will show you something interesting," she said, holding it out to me. I laughed, taking the amulet with disdain.

"Oh, sure, like this is going to make any difference in my life. It's going to put me in my place, right?" I replied, laughing at the suggestion. "Well, at least it will give me a good laugh later." Still laughing inside at the situation, I held the amulet in my hand, and then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

Terror overwhelmed me. The world around me seemed to spin as I struggled to comprehend what had happened. I looked at my hands… thick, dirty, calloused. I was wearing a shirt that was drenched in sweat, sticking to my skin and accentuating every curve of that voluminous belly. And the hair… my God, the hair! I felt the brush of the damp hair under my armpits, heavy and nauseating with every movement. The stench of my own body was unbearable. A bitter, sour smell mixed with the stifling heat of sweat running in rivers down my back. I could feel my new anatomy sticking between my legs. With a mix of panic and fury, I re-entered the store, feeling that grotesque body sway with each heavy step. I was furious, desperate, and at the same time disgusted with every part of myself. I adjusted my shirt, embarrassed with people around staring at me. As I corrected my posture, I could feel the spherical belly against the now-closed damp shirt—it was terrifying.

“What have you done to me?!” I yelled, but the voice that came out wasn’t mine. It was deep, rough, laden with a rage that felt so… masculine. I stood there, panting, feeling the sweat trickle down my stubbly face as I tried to understand what was happening. That’s when I saw her: my body, my real body, standing in the store, just as terrified as I was. I was looking back at myself with my own eyes… and they were filled with fear. The old witch of the store smiled enigmatically and said, “This place provides fair exchanges. Now, the worker is in a better position… and you are where you truly belong.” I clutched my protruding belly while shouting, “Do you think this is my place?” The witch merely laughed, watching my terrified face. I looked at that man in my body, trying to process what she was saying. He was as lost as I was, looking at himself, at the slender, elegant hands that were now his. He looked confused, scared, like a child in someone else’s body.

I had to make a deal with the shopkeeper. I knew my parents would never believe a word I said about what had really happened. Who would? She promised that the change would last only one day. "As soon as you sleep, you'll return to your original body," she assured. I had no choice. I went to the worker's house, and he went to mine.

His house was a cramped, dirty cubicle, nothing like what I was used to. I just wanted to lie down and sleep, but before that, I had to use the bathroom. My God, the disgust I felt… that bathroom was so degrading, with the cold water, the sensation of damp hair, and the unbearable stench of sweat embedded in the skin. I almost cried out of revulsion.

Finally, I lay down on the hard bed, feeling the weight of that body against the rough sheets. I focused on trying to sleep, hoping that the nightmare would end.

But when I woke up… The first thing I did was scratch my hairy chest—nothing had changed. I was still him. The smell, the weight, the sensation of the hair, the belly that felt like it weighed tons on my body. In desperation, I grabbed the phone and tried to call the store. But the response was always the same: "The number does not exist." My God, the number does not exist!

Panicking, I went to the store in person. When I arrived, my heart sank. The store simply did not exist anymore. There was no sign that it had ever been there. It was as if everything had been a delusion.

I stood there, sweat running down my back, feeling the weight of that grotesque body crushing me. And for the first time in my life, I didn't know what to do...

In the past few months, my life has turned into a nightmare. I had to learn to be a man in ways I never imagined. The body, once smooth and feminine, now forced me into a rough, macho behavior that I hated. There were no traces left of my former femininity; everything had transformed into something I barely recognized as myself. No matter how hard I tried, not even my feminine gait remained; I walked like a big, beer-bellied man.

Going to the bathroom has become a terrifying experience. Peeing standing up? A nightmare. Now I understand why guys always miss; it's incredibly difficult to aim with these things, especially since mine seems to be on the larger side. And men's bathrooms, with their awful odors and filth, are even worse. The simple act of taking a shower has turned into a complex task. I no longer needed to use shampoo on my head since my hair was falling out in clumps, but now I had to use shampoo all over my body to clean all the hair that covered me and also to try to control the unbearable smell emanating from me. I tried shaving, but the hair grew back so quickly that it was impossible to keep up. With the miserable pay of a laborer, I couldn't afford a constant shaving routine. Waxing was expensive, and the rapid hair growth was a constant reminder of my new reality. I ended up resigning myself to dealing with the smell and the hair because there was no other choice.

I never heard from the laborer who took over my old body. He had no family, and now I was alone, condemned to live as a middle-aged, hairy, and unpleasant man. There was no more hope of reversing what had happened. Now, my nights are spent in bars, drinking beer and trying to find some comfort in this new life. I’ve learned to go shirtless because the feeling of my belly pressing against the shirt was unbearable, and the heat only made it worse. Sometimes there are a few advantages: I no longer have to worry about wearing shirts all the time, and in a way, I feel an independence I didn't have before. I sit at the table, scratch my belly, and give it a slap, letting out a heavy sigh. I look at the reflection of a middle-aged man in my glass and sigh again. I am a man now…

[kiesbrainjuice]

— FRIENDZONE ! atsumu miya

syn : how are u gonna go out of the friendzone ?

wc : 2.7k

tw : none ! friends to lovers

You and Atsumu have been inseparable since middle school, your bond so strong that outsiders often mistake you for a couple. However, you've always maintained that you're just close friends, pushing down the flutter in your heart whenever he's near. Atsumu, seemingly oblivious to your hidden feelings, treats you with the same easy familiarity he always has.

On this particular day, you're enjoying your lunch in the school courtyard, savoring the warmth of the spring sun on your skin. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom, their delicate petals drifting on the breeze. You're lost in thought, remembering all the years you've spent by Atsumu's side, when he suddenly drops onto the bench beside you with a heavy sigh.

You turn to look at him, concern etching your features. Atsumu's usually perfectly styled blonde hair is disheveled, as if he's been running his hands through it in frustration. His brow is furrowed, and there's a tightness around his eyes that you've come to recognize as a sign of his inner turmoil.

"Tsk, I'm confused why it's so hard to find a suitable lover for me???" he groans, ruffling his hair even further.

Your heart clenches at his words, a mix of sympathy and secret longing washing over you. You've loved Atsumu for years, your feelings deepening with each shared laugh, each volleyb all practice, each late-night study session. But you've never found the courage to confess, fear of ruining your friendship holding you back.

"What happened this time?" you ask softly, fighting to keep your voice steady.

Atsumu leans back, his shoulder brushing against yours. The casual contact sends a shiver down your spine, one you hope he doesn't notice.

"I asked Anako-san out," he admits, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "She turned me down flat. Said she's not interested in dating anyone right now."

You nod sympathetically, even as a small, selfish part of you rejoices. "I'm sorry, Tsumu. That must have been tough."

He shrugs, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "I guess I should be used to it by now, huh? But sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Am I not good enough?"

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. You want nothing more than to take his face in your hands and tell him how amazing he is, how any girl would be lucky to have him. How you've been in love with him for years.

Instead, you bump his shoulder gently with yours. "Don't be ridiculous. You're an amazing person, Atsumu. Any girl would be lucky to have you."

He looks at you then, his warm brown eyes softening. "Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you, you know? You always know how to make me feel better."

You smile, ignoring the bittersweet ache in your chest. "That's what best friends are for, right?"

Atsumu nods, then suddenly grins. "Hey, maybe I should just date you instead! We already act like a couple half the time anyway."

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you consider telling him the truth. But then he laughs, the sound light and carefree, and you know he's just joking. You force a laugh of your own, pushing down the words you long to say.

"As if you could handle me, Miya," you tease, falling back into your familiar banter.

As you sit there with Atsumu, an idea suddenly strikes you. It's painful, but you convince yourself it's for the best. "Hey, Tsumu," you say, trying to keep your voice light, "I think I might know someone who'd be perfect for you. Want me to set you up?"

Atsumu looks at you, surprise evident in his features. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

You nod, ignoring the twinge in your chest. "Of course. That's what friends are for, right?"

Without giving yourself time to reconsider, you pull out your phone and call your friend, Yui. She's pretty, kind, and has mentioned finding Atsumu attractive before. You arrange for her to meet you both at the courtyard.

A few minutes later, Yui arrives. Her long dark hair is swaying in the breeze, and she's wearing a cute sundress. As soon as she spots Atsumu, her eyes light up.

"Hi, Yui!" you call out, waving her over. But to your surprise, she barely glances at you. Her gaze is fixed solely on Atsumu, a shy smile playing on her lips.

"Hello, Atsumu-kun," she says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Atsumu straightens up, his earlier dejection forgotten. "Hi, Yui-chan. It's nice to see you."

You watch as they start talking, feeling increasingly out of place. The conversation flows easily between them, and you can see the interest sparking in Atsumu's eyes. It's exactly what you wanted, you tell yourself, even as your heart feels like it's breaking.

After a few minutes of awkward silence on your part, you decide you can't take it anymore. "Well," you say, forcing a bright smile onto your face, "I just remembered I have some studying to do. Why don't you two stay and chat?"

Yui nods absently, still focused on Atsumu. But Atsumu turns to look at you, his brow furrowing slightly. You know he's always been able to read you better than anyone else, and you can see the concern in his eyes as he studies your face.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. "You don't have to go."

You wave him off, your fake smile still firmly in place. "No, no, it's fine. You two have fun!"

As you turn to leave, you feel Atsumu's eyes on you. You know he can tell something's off – he's always been able to see through your fake smiles. But you can't bring yourself to look back. You're afraid that if you do, he'll see the truth in your eyes, the pain you're trying so hard to hide.

You walk away, each step feeling heavier than the last. Part of you hopes that Atsumu will call out, will stop you from leaving. But he doesn't, and you're not sure if that makes it better or worse.

As you round the corner, out of sight from the courtyard, you finally let your smile drop. You lean against the wall, taking a deep, shaky breath. You tell yourself that this is what's best for Atsumu, that you're being a good friend by helping him find someone. But it doesn't stop the ache in your chest or the tears that threaten to fall.

You stay there for a moment, gathering yourself. Then, with one last deep breath, you straighten up and walk away, leaving your heart behind in that sun-dappled courtyard with the boy you love and the girl who might make him happy.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

—

The next morning, you drag yourself to school, your heart heavy with the events of yesterday. The spring air feels colder somehow, the cherry blossoms less vibrant. You're lost in thought, replaying yesterday's scene in your mind, when a familiar voice calls out to you.

"Hey! Wait up!"

You turn to see Yui running towards you, her long hair streaming behind her. Your stomach twists uncomfortably, but you force a smile onto your face.

"Good morning, Yui," you manage to say as she reaches you, slightly out of breath.

"Morning!" she chirps, her eyes bright with excitement. "I'm so glad I caught you. Do you know where Atsumu is?"

Your heart sinks even further. Of course, she's looking for Atsumu. "I... I'm not sure," you stammer. "We don't always walk to school together."

Yui's face falls slightly, but her enthusiasm doesn't wane. "Oh, that's okay. I just wanted to thank him for yesterday. We had such a great time talking after you left!"

You nod mechanically, trying to keep your expression neutral. "That's... that's great, Yui. I'm glad you two hit it off."

"We really did!" she gushes, falling into step beside you as you continue walking. "He's so funny and charming. And those eyes! I could get lost in them forever."

Each word feels like a dagger to your heart, but you keep nodding, keep smiling. This is what you wanted, isn't it? For Atsumu to find someone who appreciates him?

"Oh!" Yui exclaims suddenly. "There he is! Atsumu-kun!"

Your head snaps up, and sure enough, there's Atsumu walking through the school gates. He turns at the sound of Yui's voice, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on you. For a moment, something flickers in his gaze - concern? confusion? - but before you can decipher it, Yui is already bounding towards him.

You watch as she reaches him, talking animatedly. Atsumu smiles at her, but his eyes keep darting back to you. You want to look away, but you can't seem to tear your gaze from him.

Suddenly, Atsumu says something to Yui and starts walking towards you. Your heart rate speeds up, and you consider turning and fleeing. But before you can decide, he's there, standing in front of you.

"Hey," he says softly. "You okay? You left pretty quickly yesterday."

You open your mouth to reassure him, to lie and say everything's fine. But as you look into his warm brown eyes, the words stick in your throat. For a moment, you're both silent, the bustling noise of the schoolyard fading away.

Then the bell rings, shattering the moment. You blink, coming back to reality.

"We should get to class," you mumble, ducking your head to avoid his gaze.

Atsumu reaches out, his hand hovering near your arm as if he wants to stop you. But he lets it fall back to his side. "Yeah," he says, his voice tinged with something you can't quite identify. "Yeah, we should."

As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on your back. You want to turn around, to run back and tell him everything. But you keep walking, one foot in front of the other, towards your classroom and away from the boy you love.

The day stretches ahead of you, full of classes and conversations and moments where you'll have to pretend everything is normal.

—

As lunchtime arrives, Atsumu finds himself rushing towards your classroom, a strange urgency driving his steps. He's been feeling off-kilter since yesterday, a nagging sensation he can't quite place. But as he rounds the corner, he stops dead in his tracks.

There you are, but you're not alone. You're laughing with a guy he doesn't recognize, your head thrown back in genuine mirth. Something hot and unfamiliar surges through Atsumu's chest. Before he can process what he's doing, he's striding towards you two.

"Back off," he growls at the guy, his eyes flashing dangerously.

You whirl around, shock evident on your face. "Atsumu? What are you-"

But you don't finish your sentence. Instead, you grab Atsumu's wrist and drag him away, muttering a quick apology to your bewildered classmate. You pull Atsumu into the nearest empty space - the janitor's closet - and shut the door behind you.

The small space is dim and cramped, filled with the scent of cleaning supplies. You're standing so close to Atsumu that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, but you push that thought aside as anger bubbles up inside you.

The janitor's closet door slams shut behind you, the small space amplifying the tension crackling between you and Atsumu.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you seethe, your voice low but filled with fury.

Atsumu's eyes flash dangerously. "Me? What about you? Who was that guy you were all cozy with?"

"That's none of your business!" you snap back. "You don't get to act all jealous when you're out there chasing every girl in school!"

"I'm not chasing every girl!" Atsumu retorts, his voice rising. "And even if I was, why do you care?"

"Because it's pathetic!" you shoot back, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "You're so desperate for a girlfriend that you can't even see what's right in front of you!"

Atsumu's face contorts with anger. "What's that supposed to mean? You're the one who set me up with Yui yesterday!"

"Because that's what you wanted, isn't it?" you yell, your carefully constructed walls crumbling. "To find a 'suitable lover'? Well, congratulations! Looks like you've found one!"

"You don't know what I want!" Atsumu shouts, taking a step closer to you.

"Oh, don't I?" you laugh bitterly. "I've been watching you flirt and get rejected for years, Atsumu. I think I have a pretty good idea!"

"You don't know anything!" he growls, frustration evident in every line of his body. "If you did, you wouldn't be laughing it up with some random guy!"

"He's not random, he's my friend!" you defend hotly. "And what does it matter to you anyway? You're too busy with your own love life to care about mine!"

"That's not true and you know it!" Atsumu's voice echoes in the small space. "I've always cared about you!"

"Oh, really?" you scoff, even as your heart races at his words. "Is that why you're always complaining to me about not having a girlfriend? Is that why you let me set you up with Yui without a second thought?"

"I didn't ask you to do that!" Atsumu shouts back. "You're the one who suggested it!"

"Because I thought that's what you wanted!" Your voice cracks with emotion. "I thought… I thought I was being a good friend."

"A good friend?" Atsumu repeats incredulously. "A good friend wouldn't push me towards other girls if they…"

He trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air between you.

"If they what, Atsumu?" you press, your heart pounding so hard you're sure he must be able to hear it.

"If they had feelings for me themselves," he finishes quietly.

The silence that follows is deafening. You stare at each other, both breathing heavily from the argument.

"Is that what this is about?" you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think I have feelings for you?"

Atsumu runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "I don't know! Do you? Because sometimes I think… but then you do things like set me up with other girls, and I just don't understand!"

"You don't understand?" you repeat, your own frustration bubbling over. "How do you think I feel, watching you chase after every girl but me? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

Atsumu's eyes widen. "What are you saying?"

You take a deep breath, realizing there's no going back now. "I'm saying that I love you, you idiot! I've been in love with you for years, but I was too scared to say anything because I didn't want to ruin our friendship!"

Atsumu stares at you in shock for a long moment before a smile slowly spreads across his face. "You love me?"

You nod, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "Yeah, I do. But if you don't feel the same way, I understand. We can just forget this whole thing and-"

You're cut off as Atsumu closes the distance between you, cupping your face in his hands. "I love you too," he says softly. "I've been in love with you for so long, I can't even remember when it started."

"But… all those other girls?" you ask, confusion replacing your anger.

Atsumu shakes his head. "I was trying to get over you. I thought you only saw me as a friend. I never dreamed you might feel the same way."

You laugh incredulously, tears pricking at your eyes. "We've both been such idiots, haven't we?"

"The biggest," Atsumu agrees, his thumb gently wiping away a tear that's escaped down your cheek. "But maybe we can start being smart now?"

You nod, your heart feeling like it might burst with happiness. Atsumu leans in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss that feels like coming home.

When you finally break apart, you're both grinning like idiots. "So," you say, trying to catch your breath, "what do we do now?"

Atsumu takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "Now," he says, his eyes sparkling with joy and mischief, "we go have lunch. And maybe I can properly introduce myself to that guy as your boyfriend?"

You laugh, squeezing his hand. "I'd like that," you say softly.

Ⓡ kiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[aphrogeneias]

kickstart my heart — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the first time eddie sees your bare chest isn't the way he imagined it would be, and he'd imagined plenty of times.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: smut (+18), dirty thoughts, suggestive dialogue, for the purpose of this story, eddie is a boobs man (but we all know he enjoys the whole package), allusions to sex but no graphic descriptions. jeff is implied to be gay because in my heart all of cc are somewhere in the alphabet mafia.

author's note: elaborating on this. i want to remind you that this is a silly piece and i hope you take It as such <3 also i am incredibly rusty when it comes to writing, i'm sorry if this isn't great.

There were thousands of people around him, including the band on the stage in front of them, but Eddie couldn't look anywhere else but at you, eyes wide with a weird mix of emotions.

As cold sweat made his previously hot skin shiver, all he could think was "this wasn't how I thought it would go". Believe him, he'd thought about it a million times. When he needed to stay awake in class, when you wore low cut tops and tight shirts, in the blessed days you decided to opt out of a bra, late at night with his hand gripping his hard length, leaking all over his mattress. He thought about it an embarrassing amount.

In his daydreams, though, the first time he saw them was very much different. He had visions of you sprawled out on his bed, him undressing you slowing, showing your bare chest little by little until it was revealed in the low light of his bedroom, or dragging you to the ever dirty man's bathroom at The Hideout and ripping your clothes off your body in a rush to worship it.

No matter how much he thought about it, nothing prepared him for the fact that the first time he saw your tits was at a Mötley Crüe concert, in the middle of a crowd of thousands of other people.

Eddie hadn't even wanted to go in the first place — he's not very fond of metal of the glam persuasion, but you and Gareth had convinced him and the other boys to go. Jeff and Grant never passed on an opportunity to watch a good concert, and Eddie just wanted to be near you, any excuse was good enough.

He had spent the night happy, hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket, enjoying the feeling of the music coursing through his body, running through his veins like an adrenaline high. The bass and drums beating in sync with his heartbeat, feeling it deep within his ribcage. It felt good, like it always had. It also felt good watching you in your element, hair a mess after headbanging all night, skin glowing from sweat and the glitter in your makeup, dancing without a care in the world. The way he thinks you always should be.

It was funny at first. When the band made a pause and the members started addressing the audience, he was about to turn to you when the drummer made some particular lewd comments about the "beautiful ladies" in the crowd, expecting you to laugh with him. The whole rockstar shtick doesn't work on you, he knew that much — whenever he tried pulling something like that you'd just roll your eyes, which only spurred him on because he loved watching your beautiful eyes roll up, though he'd like to do that in other ways. What he saw instead was you whispering in Jeff's ear, the pair of you cackling at each other, too conspiratorially for Eddie's taste. 

With his brows joined together in confusion, he watched you lift yourself on Jeff's shoulders, and after that everything happened in slow motion. The drummer had gone and asked to see some tits from the girls in the crowd, and as ridiculous as that sounded, a lot of girls obliged. You included, for his shock.

Gareth blushed and looked down, Grant closed his hands over his eyes, Jeff was laughing — the bastard was the only one unaffected when you lifted your top up to your head for no more than a second, but it was enough to torture him for the rest of the night. He watches you get down to stand on the ground once again, still laughing, and Eddie could tell you were a little flustered, but mostly you looked like you were having a good time.

He couldn't blame you, wouldn't blame you. He had no right to tell you what to do or not to show your body, you could do whatever you wanted. But, as the band proceeded with their setlist, and your eyes met with his, a playful look and a tentative smile on your face, Eddie couldn't reciprocate. He felt jealous, jealous of everyone who got to see you like that too, and frustrated for being able to look but probably never being able to touch the way he wants to, he felt protective over you, afraid that some other guy would feel entitled to look at you or touch you disrespectfully after that. His mind started reeling, and he could barely distinguish the music anymore.

In his brooding, his fists clenching where they still rested in his pockets, he missed the way you looked down, eyes turning sad, unsure about what your best friend's strange expression meant.

"Are you mad at me?"

Your question caught him by surprise, because you'd barely talked during the whole trip back home. The guys were rowdy as usual, sitting in the backseat of his van, talking about the highlights of their night, making fun of you for your little groupie moment, which had you brushing them off with a laugh and smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Eddie felt guilty. He didn't mean to make you feel like that, but he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to that moment, and he couldn't stop the blood from flowing downwards, his pants uncomfortably tight at that point. If you noticed his erection, he was ready to throw himself out of the car in shame.

It didn't help that you were right there beside him, thighs looking delectable sitting in his passenger seat, his hand itching to take place on your knee like it always did whenever he drove you places. He could feel the faint smell of your perfume, and see the way you crossed your arms in front of your chest, not helping with his problem at all.

You had only approached him when he'd stopped the van in front of your house, after he had dropped all the others at theirs. 

"What? No, I'm not…"

You interrupted when he was about to start stammering. "Because if you are, I really don't understand why, and if it's about what I did earlier, you have no right to. You're not my dad, you're not my boyfriend…"

A bitter laugh escaped him before he could help it. "I'm well aware, sweetheart."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Still frustrated, he pinches his nose between his fingers. "I'm not mad at you, I'm not judging you", he looks at you then, pointing a ringed finger in your general direction, "I'll have you know I'm a feminist, 'kay?"

You snort. "Okay, Mr. Feminist. What is it, then?"

"I just…", he sighs, "It wasn't supposed to be like that."

Maybe it was the couple of joints you all shared on the way home that had his lips loose like that. Maybe he was tired of holding it all in, his feelings spilling out of him like a dam breaking. Either way, it was out there.

"What wasn't supposed to be like that?" You asked slowly, testing the waters after feeling a shift in the conversation.

"I wasn't supposed to see you like that, I thought the first time I'd see you naked would be different."

Eddie couldn't meet your eyes. He could tell you thought it was funny, with the way you looked like you were holding back a smile. He was never bashful around you, that was the first time you saw him like that.

A lot of firsts for one night, it seemed.

"You think about seeing me naked?" You raised your brow, spurring him on. 

"Yes." He says, simply. Swallowing loudly, the tension grows inside the van. "And I never planned to tell you that, but now is as good a time as ever, I guess."

You scoot a little closer, putting an arm on the back of his seat. "Can I tell you a secret too, just to make us even?"

Eddie just nods, unconsciously getting closer to you as well. You can feel the heat of each other's bodies, an electric current running between you. You draw your mouth near his ear, and whisper "I think about you too."

"Yeah?" Eddie feels his confidence slowly return, his dream coming true right before his eyes. His pretty best friend reciprocating what he thought was his most perverted secret? Couldn't be real — but it was. "We should do something about that, shouldn't we? Gotta give you something other than your imagination to work with."

He wasn't able to resist tucking a fallen piece of your hair back behind your ear. You shifted on your seat, rubbing your thighs together. Eddie took that as encouragement, drawing even closer, hand finally moving to touch the soft skin of your thigh.

"Gonna do you one better, Ed." Your voice lowered, filled with promise. "You can look, and you can touch. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like we've waited long enough."

Later that night, after you were done riding him in the backseat of his van and he'd fucked you on the floor of your bedroom as you desperately tried not to wake the other people in your house, after his hands and mouth explored your body and mapped every inch of your chest, leaving his mark all over it, you'd joked, with a soft giggle at the memory, that you would do the same thing you did that night at the next gig he'd have at local bar.

The only answer you had was an unnecessarily long drag of his cigarette as he laid beside you on the purple comforter of your bed. "If you want me to not last through the set without dragging you out of there early, go ahead."

You'd just kept laughing.

[kenposting]

He's Just Ken <3

Summary: Ken has always been more than fond of you, and he kept that to himself, like a small thought that didn't mean much. You, unbeknownst to him, of course, felt the same, and he is shocked to learn this.

AN: Erm I grew up writing on Tumblr but then I graduated and got a job and got married and very quickly divorced (I'm literally only 21 and he slept with someone else lol) and I figured I might as well start again so I am sorry of this is ridiculous but I just think Ken is the sweetest and he would never treat anyone like that! Damn. PS: Khosh if you saw this, no you didn't.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sky got darker every night, and for some odd reason, it really, really frightened you. You weren’t sure if any of the other Barbies felt the same. Did anyone else make sure to hurry home before the light started dimming? Sure, you could ask about it, but what if this was a malfunction? What if they sent you to see Weird Barbie? 

You supposed that wouldn’t be so bad… unless they sent you to her alone… at nighttime. 

With a humph you washed the thought away and roller skated a little faster. With panicked glances behind you up at the sky, you missed what was right in front of you and bumped into something. Hard. 

All you heard was a yelp mixed with your own sound of surprise before hitting the ground. You blinked a few times before opening your eyes all the way. Again, you saw night fast approaching, but in the foreground was Ken. 

“Oh, hey Ken!” 

“Hey, Barbie!”

“That hurt.” 

His skin glistened above you and you wished so bad that he wasn’t there to see you right now. How embarrassing… You really were good at skating too, but now he’ll never know that. You were quick to ask Ken if he was hurt as well, but he’s much larger than you and remained that it wasn’t more than a gentle bump. His yelp was one more of surprise and worry than anything. 

One pink-opened-face ambulance visit later and you were on your way. Although, now… it was nighttime and everywhere you looked was shaded a deep blue. 

Ken picked up on your uncomfort quickly, brows furrowing at the way you almost folded into yourself.

“Are you okay, Barbie? You’re usually so good at skating, I was surprised to see you fall.” 

You jumped a little, forgetting he was there, your breath catching in your throat. Wait, he thought you were good at skating? 

“Sorry, Ken. I’m fine! Just…” you remembered the possibility of this being a malfunction and decided not to mention it. “Just a little dazed from the fall. Do you remember which way my Dreamhouse was?” 

Ken thought very hard. He looked as if there were actual wheels turning in his head. You worried he would hurt himself.

“Of course I do, I just hope you’re okay. I’m trying to think if I’ve ever met anyone that had forgotten where they lived. Maybe this requires visiting Weird–”

“No!” A silence fell between the two of you. “No, I’m okay. I just… wanted an excuse to ask you to walk me home.” 

You had never seen Ken’s face that shade of pink before. Yes, you were afraid of the dark, but there was a very real underlying truth to your statement. You were always close with Stereotypical Barbie and had heard many times her griefs about Ken and the ways he liked her, and it sort of perplexed you. You got that she just didn’t feel the same, and it was sweet how he couldn’t pick up on that, but gosh… so many times you had found yourself wishing to be her, just for a day. After everything went down between the two of them, you saw a huge change in him. He was lighter, more sure of himself. You had even mentioned to the Barbies at a few girls nights how you felt very differently about him than Stereotypical barbie did, followed by squeals and encouragements to go after him. You couldn’t decide, though, which was scarier: nighttime or speaking to Ken. 

Ken stammered over his response before settling on a simple “Sure,” lifting out a bent arm for you to hold on to. You still had your rollerskates on, of course, because you didn’t bring any change of shoes. Duh. 

He slipped on his rollerblades too so you’d feel more comfortable, reassuring you he suddenly just felt like skating too. He thought it was cute that you couldn’t rollerblade yet and still used standard skates instead. You let him lead the way, the two of you gliding gently across the pink pavement. It was quiet at nighttime, and although that frightened you, something about this was different. Peaceful. 

You noticed Ken intentionally making some wrong turns. Maybe he also enjoyed spending extra time with you. Another humph to clear the thought from your head and, before you knew it, you stood outside of your home. 

Ken looked down at the ground, unsure of what to do or say now. He had also been searching (for weeks now, maybe months) for an excuse to walk you home. Never did he think that would happen, let alone the desire ever be reciprocated, even in the slightest. He started minimizing the whole thing in his head, reminding himself that it would be ridiculous if you thought of him in a way that was anything more than just friends, plus, you just fell down, you probably didn’t want to walk alone in case you fell again, and–

“Ken?” 

He had truthfully forgot you were even there. 

“Oh, sorry, Barbie. I’ll walk you to your door.” 

Something came over you and you panicked again. What if this was your only chance to tell him you liked him? I mean, how much longer could this go on? The skates made you much taller than you typically stood. Unfortunately, so did his, and you were still much smaller than him. You resorted to standing on the toe-stoppers to gain a little height, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Ken."

He looked like he was about to barf, but in a really good way, if that makes sense. His mouth fell open and his cheeks darkened again. He wanted to say something – so much, he wanted to say so much, but he just… couldn’t. He just stared at you, frozen in place. 

You couldn’t believe you just did that. A thought crossed your mind, and at first it was sort of funny, but then very sad. 

“Hey Ken, where do you sleep? All of you, actually, where do the Kens sleep?” 

He still just looked at you, lips still parted. After blinking a few times, he looked around, almost searching for an answer littered on the ground somewhere. “Beach.” 

He laughed at himself. “Sorry, the beach. We just hang out at the beach.” 

“The beach? But its so dark out there…” 

His head tilted to the side a little. “It’s always dark at nighttime. You don’t like it? I find it kind of nice, actually.” 

You sheepishly shook your head. “It really scares me. For whatever reason... I always make sure I’m home before the sun goes down.” 

“So that’s why you’re never at any of Barbie’s parties?” 

You looked up at him and noticed your lipstick marked on his rosy cheek. 

“You noticed I'm never there?” 

“Of course I noticed. You’re the only reason I ever go.” 

He blushed after letting that slip. 

“And, it’s also fun, I guess.” 

You felt your cheeks start to heat up, but that’s nothing new. You always felt like this when you’re around him. 

“Anyways…” He smiled at himself. “You should come. I can walk you home every time so it won’t be scary.” 

Something bubbled up inside you and you literally and physically couldn’t take it anymore. You stood up tall to kiss him again, but this time he noticed, and you stilled in his gaze. 

“I…” Why was this so hard? You had daydreamed for ages about what to say to him if you ever gained the courage to speak up, and now that you finally can, it seemed impossible. 

“Do you want to some inside?” That wasn’t right. “I mean, I want you to come inside. Do you also want to come inside?” 

He looked at you so lovingly and let out a gentle laugh. He liked you so much, he didn’t even process what you had asked. Wait. Come inside? You wanted him to come inside? Like boyfriend girlfriend?? His eyes widened. 

“Why?” 

You stilled at his response. You just wanted to cry. He was right, why? Why would you ask such a dumb question? He would never like you that way, and you felt silly for assuming he would. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I’ll see you later, Ken–” 

“No!” He startled himself at the outburst. “Sorry, I meant… Why me? Do you… Do you like me?” 

You were relieved at his explanation, but he wasn’t exactly making it easy for you. 

“Well… yeah. That’s why I’m asking you to come inside.” 

It was like fireworks went off in his brain. Your words banged around inside his head so loud he couldn’t think of anything else. You liked him? You did just say yes, didn’t you? Did he make that up? 

“Oh well I also like you too as well a lot very much.” 

What? Literally what. What was that. He cringed at himself a little. He had also been dreaming of what he’d say to you, and this was definitely not it. 

You giggled at him. He was just so sweet, and so so nervous. Both of you were. You took his hand and lead him towards your home. 

Inside he just stood there, unsure of what to do. It was like if he moved he’d somehow ruin everything. You noticed he was like that a lot, actually. It made you kind of sad. 

He had liked your friend so much before, and even though that was years ago, it seemed to still really impact him. You realized it wasn’t about her, it was about him. It had changed the way he saw himself. Her not liking him back got twisted up in his mind somehow and he had taken it to believe that no one liked him. He felt silly for thinking she ever would, that anyone ever would. It became part of his own perception of the world around him, that he was some sort of nuisance or a bother. 

You sat on your couch and he helped you unlace your skates. His hands were stong and gentle, and with your skates off, he was now much taller than you. You stook directly at eye level to his chest. His shape was so defined. Gosh, why did Mattel build him that way?

Blinking the nerves away, you made your way to the kitchen. Bless his heart, honestly. He has no idea how good he looks, right now or ever. This was also silly at first, but now that you thought about it, it was sort of sad. Why didn’t he know? What does he think of himself? He’s always so dismissive of compliments, even from other Kens. Of course he asked why when you invited him in, he can’t comprehend being worthy of something like that. Sure, you had moments of being insecure as well, but this felt different, deeper. 

You glanced up to see him still sat on your couch. He was fidgeting with his hands and looking around. He looked like he felt uncomfortable; like he was somehow gravely out of place and believed he had overstayed his welcome. 

There was an ache in you at seeing him like that. As soon as you walked into the room, he perked up and smiled, thanking you for the glass of water – but you noticed his hands were shaking as he sipped it. 

“Ken, are you okay? I understand if you don’t want to stay over.” 

He nearly choked on the drink. “Stay over!? I thought you just wanted me to stop by, like, out of courtesy.” 

You smiled warmly at him and something … changed. He felt something shift inside of him, like he could feel that your smile was genuine and real and more than a courtesy. You looked at him the way he looked at everyone else. 

“No, Ken. I…” How do you say this? 

“I do like you, and if I wasn’t so shy, I’d tell you all about it. I love spending time with you. You just look very handsome and its making me a little nervous.” 

You heard a slight gasp from him. He had been waiting his whole life to feel liked or wanted or invited or worthy or important or… well, handsome. And to hear it from you? It was just too much. He teared up a little, something a lot less foreign to everyone since traveling to the Real World. He liked crying, actually. He just didn’t know why it happened so much. Was he just weaker than the other Kens? 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He sniffled out an apology, standing up to leave. It must've been a real mood-killer and the last thing he wanted to do was bum you out. 

You stood too, taking ahold of his hand. He looked down at you and saw you were also tearing up. 

“Ken, you’ve got to believe me.” 

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t. He just stepped toward you and held onto you. 

The two of you cried – and the two of you apologized for it at the same time, your tears quickly evolving into giggles. The more you both tried to apologize for being a bummer the more you’d speak over one another and it really was very silly. 

He was blushing now, and he looked much more confident. He’s never met anyone that also feels so out of place. He felt comfortable around you, like he didn’t need to worry if he was bothering you. And to think you felt like you weren't worthy of him liking you? That was ridiculous, and very confusing for him, but it mad him feel differently. If he felt it was silly for you to feel unlikeable, wouldn't that mean he was silly for feeling that way too?

“Its okay, Ken, really. I like you, right now. You don’t have to do anything else.” 

And he’d never forgotten that. Everyday he was excited to exist for the first time in a long time. The already pink landscape of Barbieland seemed so much brighter now, and day after day he had a spring in his step. 

Months went by of him being encouraged by you, invited by you, seen by you -- he truly did like like you and he had no idea what to do about it, but he figured everyday he’d try his best to show you. 

Today was exactly six months since you biffed it on your skates. He still felt bad for knocking you over, but he was glad it happened. 

He breathed a shaky breath before knocking on your door. He was still always so nervous to see you, but in a good way. 

You opened it to be greeted by Ken in literally a tuxedo, and you immediately felt bad after letting out a laugh. He just beamed and laughed with you, striking a pose. So cool. 

“I know, its a lot. But I look good, don’t I?” 

You smiled up at him and shook your head. 

“Ken, you always look good. What is going on?” 

He handed you a bouquet of daisies (that matched his boutonniere, of course) and a shimmery white gift box. 

Shocked and confused barely scratched the surface. What was he planning? Sure, every time he saw you he brought you a gift, but it was usually something small and genuine, like a rock that ‘reminded him of you’ or something he noticed you eyeing on your last date. 

He shrugged it all off as if he wasn't dressed for some important extravagant black tie event. 

“I wanted to take you out and I wanted it to be special. Thought it would be nice for a change.” 

You felt like crying again. All the Barbies and Kens teased the two of you for being sensitive, but you really did enjoy the vulnerability the two of you shared. I mean, how sweet is he? Could he get any sweeter?

The gift box held a blush pink gown, which, of course, made you cry for real this time. 

The two of you looked very lovely together. You both giggled the entire duration of the very long and uphill car ride, Ken giving you secret directions to the spot he picked because he cannot drive (LOL). 

You turned the corner to see a very small and intimate restaurant. It was encased at the edge of the mountain, overlooking the sea. 

Now both of you were crying (and laughing at each other because the other was crying). He took your hand and lead you to a small candlelit table. 

“Ken, what is going on? This is all so beautiful.” 

He looked down and smiled, shrugging, before straightening himself up and clearing his throat. You presume he was attempting to build confidence, and it worked for a moment, but he very quickly returned to appearing very nervous. 

“Six months ago you absolutely ate it on the pavement and I’m really glad you did.” 

He was not off to a great start, but you found it charming. 

“Not that I was glad you got hurt… Sorry, hold on.” 

He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of pink paper. 

“You wrote this down?” 

“Hey, you’re ruining it!” He laughed at himself, feeling a little silly and overly serious. 

“Anyways…” He tossed the paper, opting for improvising the rest of what he wnated to tell you. 

“I’m glad you suck at rollerskating because that means I get to hold your hand and guide you. I’m glad I can’t drive because it gives me an excuse to ask you to take me everywhere. I’m glad the nighttime freaks you out because I get to swoop in and save you from it. I’m glad you cry all the time because I do too and I’m glad I do because it probably makes you feel better about it, just like you make me feel better about it.” 

He was right, and his words had you crying already. 

“I hope you never get better at rollerskating or not crying or being scared of the dark, and I surely hope I never learn how to drive, but even if all of that did happen, I promise I would make up another excuse to be with you. That night you told me you were also looking for an excuse to be with me when you, again, absolutely spilled on your skates, and for the first time I felt like I meant something to someone. And to you.” He sighed at the thought of it. “I can’t believe it was you. I wish I had words to sum up the amount of time I had been running through what I’d say to you if I only could, and I still choked on it, just like now. Everyday it’s like I can’t breathe when you’re not around. I mean, all the Kens hate me because I can’t shut up about you.” 

The two of you laughed again, and you saw he was tearing up now too. 

“I like you Barbie.” His blush deepened. “No, I love you, Barbie. And I wanted to take you here to try and make you feel even a fraction of how you make me feel. Special, and important. And handsome.” 

“Ken…” He did look so handsome in the lighting, and the lull of the other guest’s conversations washed over the two of you. You realized the nighttime wasn’t so scary when Ken was around. 

“Ken, I love you too.” You response was rushed, like you couldn’t help the words from just spilling out. 

“I’ve always liked you, for years, you can ask the other Barbies. I don’t have the words either, but I promise I thought of you just as much, if not more. I still think of you. I’m thinking of you now and you’re in front of me.” 

He giggled at you and felt the familiar warmth of being truly appreciated. 

“I just wish there was some way to show you.” 

His eyes looked up at you. He felt the same way you did. He also noticed sometimes you couldn’t believe he liked you either. It was a funny situation, the two of you both feeling flattered in the other’s gaze. 

“Then show me.” 

You couldn’t make it home fast enough. You fumbled with the door of the Dreamhouse before leading him inside. His hands were shaking again, but not from insecurity or fear this time. 

He was so gentle as he touched you, grazing his hands over your arms, almost like he was seeking permission. 

“Yes, its okay.” 

His breath was shaky, as was yours, and every gesture was laced with respect and admiration. He was slow and attentive to your reactions. You stood tall to kiss him, but you couldn’t make it. He smiled at you before leaning down to help you close the gap, choosing to still let you kiss him instead of the other way around. 

Sure, the two of you had kissed lots of times, but always very quickly. Both of you were head over heels for the other and the thought of anything more made your ears heat up. You slowly leaned forward, pressing your lips against his. He placed a gentle hand on the small of your back, guiding the two of you. 

You sat on your couch like you both had hundreds of times. What was so different now? It felt personal, like you both knew he wasn’t over to just hang out this time. 

“Is this okay?” 

His blue eyes were just enchanting. Everything about him, actually, like all he was programmed for was making you laugh and ensuring you were always comfortable. 

You nodded, asking him the same. 

He smiled at you. 

“Yeah, more than okay. I just want you to feel safe.” 

You just wanted to scream. He was so sweet and kind and handsome and tall and silly and smart. It was just ridiculous. 

“Ken.” 

You began, looking very serious. He thought it was very cute. 

“You said you loved me and I love you too.” 

He nodded, wondering where you were going with this. 

“That means we’re girlfriend boyfriend.” 

He felt a little dizzy hearing you say that, like he’d imagined it so many times before, and he hadn’t really thought about it in a while. 

“And I think I want to do what girlfriends boyfriends do.” 

He smiled at you. You looked so sweet. 

“And what is it that they do?” 

You hadn’t really thought that far yet. 

“I’m actually not sure.” 

He knew what that felt like. When he went to the Real World with Stereotypical Barbie, he learned all about what people do when they’re girlfriend boyfriend, and a lot of it was sad and felt very mean to the girlfriends. He did remember, though, a lot of movies and books he’d read about the nice and sweet parts of it though. 

“I know a little bit about it, but I’m not sure if you’d like it.” 

He wasn’t teasing you at all, and you knew that. He leaned forward and whispered, too shy to speak about those things too loudly. 

Your eyes widened. This all sounded absurd, but you couldn’t help but notice a warmth spreading throughout yourself. For some reason you wanted to kiss him more than you ever had. 

“Of course, I’ve never done any of it before. But I guess there’s a first time for everything, and it seems like most people in the Real World take it very seriously.” 

Your brows furrowed at this and you sat up straight, taking it very seriously. 

He couldn’t help but laugh at you. You were just glowing, sat there in your gown he picked out for you. It was an honor to see you always, but now felt even more special. He couldn’t believe you were thinking about him. It was very sweet, but he also felt a warmth spreading within himself, one he didn’t recognize, and he also wanted to kiss you. 

The two of you sat in this feeling for what felt like hours. You felt like you were on fire under his gaze, and he felt the same way. 

“Ken, can I kiss–” 

He didn’t let you finish. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

More Ken stories here <3

[seleneprince]

Following this little something that sent me on a brainrot for days

PROLOGUE

There are very few things that can impress him at this point.

Or so he thought.

Because when he sees a human girl cross the Wall by herself, armed with a sharp tongue and an iron-made will only, well, he has to be impressed. Shocked even.

Because no human has ever crossed the Wall by themselves and survived. They're not supposed to. They're too weak, too mortal for the ruthlessness that is the land of Fae. They're prey in the home of predators. Even the strongest of their people rarely last more than a few days.

But this female—this girl—doesn't look like any other human he has seen before. And he’s seen enough of them to get a general idea. She isn’t covered in weapons or clad in armor; instead, she wears accessories made of iron. (The sight of those always makes him chuckle—how the humans cling to them, as if it'll really give them a chance against Fae. Bless them). Her hair has been braided up beautifully, though a few strands have escaped, giving her a messy, wild look. She wears a plain, gray dress with a dark coat, stained with mud and ripped in places, yet she still carries herself with a certain pride—her eyes, piercing and unwavering, burn with a fierce determination he doesn't expect to see in mortals.

There’s something about her that makes him pause, a contradiction he can’t quite put his finger on. She’s obviously battered by her journey—filfth splattered across her dress, her face streaked with dirt mixed with sweat, and exhaustion clear in the lines of her features. Yet, even with the signs of weariness etched into her, she holds her head high, shoulders squared against the chilling breeze that sweeps through the land.

Of course, the path to the Wall has its own dangers and obstacles, with some Lesser Faes sneaking out once in a while to haunt the lands being the tamest of them. Certainly, a dainty thing like her should have died before even getting a glimpse of the Wall. It's astounding that she got out with just some bruises and dirt on her clothes. he wonders if he might be hallucinating—if this human is just a product of his exhausted mind playing tricks on him. But then he hears her curse, loud and furious, and he knows she’s real.

His lips quirk up at the scene. There's something endearingly amusing about such a delicate creature with such a filthy mouth. She reminds him of a wet, angry kitten. Adorable.

When he takes a closer look, carefully hidden in the shadows, he hums in appreciation. For a mere human covered in grime, she's a real beauty. Her eyes are an unusual blend of blue and gray, shifting depending on how the light catches them. Her sun-kissed skin is marred by burns, and her frame is a bit too thin for his liking, yet she exudes an air of cold, regal elegance—like a fallen queen. His interest deepens when a sense of familiarity stirs within him, as though he’s seen her before. It can’t be true. He would remember.

But before he can think further, the fiery human catches him off guard once more.

"I know you're there. Show yourself, coward!"

He's grateful that she can't see him almost tripping backwards in shock. What the fuck?! She can sense him. How? She's human, and as far as he can tell, she doesn't have an ounce of magic in her.

Maybe she's bluffing? She's terrified and knows there are all sorts of creatures roaming these lands, so she's trying to paint herself as brave. That must be it. It's an irrational, ridiculous enough of a reaction for a human.

She scoffs, stomping her feet.

"For heaven's sake, just come out now. Let's get this over with."

It's not a bluff. She really knows he's watching her. Or that someone is. She must know she's at disadvantage here, and still insists on provoking a potential predator.

Interesting.

He finally steps out of the shadows, appearing right in front of her. He grins when she jumps back, surprised and scared. He squints his eyes when her fear is quickly replaced with anger and...annoyance.

This human must be an abnormal among her kind, surely.

"What's the matter, dear?" he smiles, purposedly showing his sharp teeth. "I thought you wanted me to come out"

He delights in the nervous gulp and the tension that settles on her body. She attempts to take a step back, her feet hesitating, only to stay rooted in place, unmoving.

She still tries to hold unto the fake indifference, how cute. Not like it'll help her, of course. She'll about to learn just how useless the iron she wears is. But before he speaks again, her rich voice shuts him off again.

"You took a long time, sir. Haven't you been taught that it's incredibly rude to make a lady wait?"

Her chin lifts, defiance shining in her eyes despite the rapid beat of her pulse that he can practically hear thrumming in the air between them.

And he...well, he's momentarily stunned, caught between amusement and genuine disbelief. Any normal human would've been trembling by now, begging for mercy, or at the very least, backing away. But she stands her ground, her fear coating the air and her fingers twitching slightly over her where her thigh is.

He throws a quick look there and notices something poking underneath her skirt. A strapped knife. Her hand has been discreetly moving towards there, and now lays on top of it. So she knows he's dangerous. She knows what her situation is. The fact that, despite that, she still considers stabbing him an option can be interpreted as incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

Probably both, coming from an human.

"Oh, my humblest apologies, dear," he makes a point of dramatically bowing to her, "I didn't want you to fret, you see. It is very rare to meet girls like yourself around here."

"Like myself?"

"Humans. For some reason, they tend to dissapear quickly once they're here. Specially the young and pretty ones."

He smells her fear, and the rush of blood pumping faster with it. He has to hold back a purr. Of course, she's smart enough pick on the threat, yet she doesn't react to it. She doesn't give away anything, besides the imperceptible twitch of her fingers. She's determined to fool him with that fake passivity.

Too bad he can practically savour her terror on his tongue. Luckily for her, she's too interesting to kill her soon.

"That doesn't explain why you waited so long to reveal yourself, sir."

Her voice has a slight tremble in it, but she raises her chin to speak to him and her blue-grey eyes look straight into his. The breath gets stuck in his throat for a moment. His gaze trails the shape of her lips, her long neck, her curly eyelashes, her slim waist.

His tongue swipes across his lips, a gesture that she doesn’t miss, judging by the way her shoulders tense.

"Ah, forgive me," he says, struggling more than he should to focus again, " I enjoy watching from the shadows first. I'm a bit shy." He pauses, studying her reaction, catching the flicker of uncertainty that crosses her face before she smooths it over with irritation.

She huffs and crosses her arms, like she's getting bored of him. As if he couldn't sense how much she wishes to run and hide.

"Do you get a kick out of lurking in the shadows, scaring humans for fun?" she snaps, each word laced with irritation. "Or is it just me you’re bothering tonight, sir?"

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound reverberating in the still air, a deliberate attempt to unsettle her further. But she doesn’t flinch, not even a little. Instead, her jaw tightens, and she glares up at him with a fierceness that makes his curiosity spike.

"And what if I do?" he counters, his voice dropping to a silken purr. He leans closer, invading her space. “What’s a little thing like you going to do about it?”

Her nostrils flare, her breath coming quicker now, but she doesn’t shrink back. "I don’t know," she replies, her voice sharp, almost cutting. “Maybe I’ll stab you in the balls and run.”

He arches a brow, genuinely taken aback by her audacity. This girl—this little human girl—is threatening him, a High Fae who could snap her like a twig without breaking a sweat. She's an insignificant creature standing in front of a monster that can destroy and devour her before she can blink. But she stares at him like she might actually mean it, like she’s weighing the distance between them, considering whether she could really drive that dull blade into his body before he overpowers her.

Ah, she's truly a joy. Far too interesting to let her die. Cauldron knows it's been so long since he's had some good entertainment.

"Oh, we don't need to get so violent, dear," a slow, wicked smile spreads across his face, and he lifts his arm, "I have better plans for us."

He flicks his wrist and shadows lurge at her before she can react, caging her with her arms pressed against her body, rendering her unable to move. She gasps and struggles uselessly, grunting in frustration and shock.

He chuckles at the display, throwing his hands in his pockets as he walks slowly towards her, like a predator lurking his prey. Only this time she can fully see him.

He stops just inches from her, his smirk widening as he studies her closer. The sight of her struggling against the shadows, the way her breaths come in quick, angry gasps, sends a shiver of satisfaction through him. She’s caught in his web now, her wrists and arms bound tight by shadows she cannot hope to break, and yet the fire in those silver eyes remains undimmed.

With a shift of his finger, a little shadow goes up to her chin and forces it up so she's looking at him. She grits her teeth, pure fury lighting up her glare. He can’t resist running his eyes over every curve of her face, savoring the wild anger in her expression. There’s no fear in her now—only rage. And it looks beautiful.

"Who the hell are you? Let me go!" she snaps, voice ringing with a boldness that doesn’t match her current state.

He smirks. It’s rare to find a mortal with this much fire, especially one who doesn’t immediately crumble under the weight of the unknown.

"Just a curious observer," he replies smoothly, his voice low and laced with danger. "And you, little thing, are far more interesting than I expected."

Her eyes widen, her struggles ceasing momentarily.

"What in the world do you mean?!"

He leans in until his breath brushes against her nose, relishing in how she holds her breath in anticipation.

"I'm going to keep you with me."

[whimsicalcotton]

36 on the kiss meme?

36 - to give up control

you didn't give me a particular ship so i'm gonna take the liberty of providing myself w more apf because i. am insatiable.

^^^ that's what i said before i started writing and then i got lost in the amberfield sauce. like actually idk what came over me but i straight up just wrote 4.5k of pointless/shameless rachel&max flirting and then took Several days to edit it. sorry? sorry.

--- --- ---

Max Caulfield likes to be sure of herself before she tries something. 

Like, super extra mega double absolutely positively one hundred percent sure. It's caused some problems over the years, and maybe everyone else finds it somewhat irksome, but she needs at least some degree of certainty if she has any hope of working past that initial burst of anxiety that so often arises at the mere thought of doing something unfamiliar. So she tends to stick to the sidelines. Asking a lot of questions she hardly puts to use, watching on as others are able to effortlessly do things she can scarcely bring herself to imagine. 

Chloe's been helping her out with it. Or at least attempting to. Serving as the (mostly) gentle push Max needs to step out of her comfort zone, trying to teach her how to be a little more impulsive, but always remaining patient and reassuring when Max finds herself in over her head or chickening out. 

And then there's Rachel.

Rachel helps in a… different way. Max thinks she overheard Chloe calling it, “throwing her to the wolves,” in a conversation that probably wasn't meant for her ears. 

Whatever it is, it’s how Max finds herself in the blaring lights and veritable sea of drunken bodies known as a party. But it's fine. It's been fine. She’s just been hanging onto Chloe for dear life and trying to remember how to talk like a normal person whenever someone spoke to them. No biggie, no problem.

And then they lost Rachel. And Chloe's immediate response was, “Goddamnit, not again.” That definitely added a few points to the metaphorical uncertainty metre. 

Though they still had fun off on their own for a bit. Chloe even mixed her one of those infamous red solo cup drinks, so she's getting a good grade in acting like a normal high-schooler tonight; something that is totally not weird of her to want and surprisingly difficult to achieve. It sort of helped and sort of made it worse that Chloe kept checking in with her every so often, looking at her like she was expecting Max to crack at any second. 

Max misses the looks. She realizes it as she's wandering through yet another unfamiliar hallway, semi-frantically looking around whatever rooms she finds, having now lost both Rachel and Chloe. She doesn't know half the faces here, let alone names, so if anyone has to be looking at her she'd really, really prefer it be Chloe. 

Alas, for the moment it's just a bunch of strangers’ gazes darting over to her every time she pokes her head into a room, searing into her skin even if only a momentary glance. Not to mention everything everywhere is so goddamn loud. Like, unreasonably loud. I don't know how anyone else's ears aren't bleeding loud. Even in rooms where the music is barely audible, there's chatting and laughing and a hundred conversations all happening at once. And don't even get her started on the lights downstairs.

She's just beginning to debate the merits of tearing her hair out over everything when she nearly crashes into yet another girl she doesn't know. 

“Sorry,” she squeaks out, wincing at the sound of her voice. “M-My bad. I didn’t mean to.”

The stranger beams down at her. “Hey, no worries. I saw you come in with Rachel, didn't I?”

Max nods vigorously before realizing she probably looks ridiculous and uttering an, “Uhm, yeah,” in its place. “Have you seen her?”

“Looking for her, huh? Aren't we all. She's pretty slippery when she wants to be.” The stranger leans in to put an arm around Max's shoulder, and she goes rigid as a board under the touch. “Come with me, I think I saw her over this way not that long ago.”

“You think?” Max asks, half in earnest and half in reactionary grouchiness. 

“Ooh, the puppy can bite,” answers the stranger, grinning at her with a hungry gleam in her eye. Max gulps. “Have a little faith in me. I've partied with Rachel before, I know where she likes to hang out.”

Max can feel her face going red. Maybe those stupid bright colored lights could actually be helpful right now. 

Thankfully the very touchy stranger does actually know what she's doing, and it doesn't take too much walking and weaving through the crowd to find a certain flannel-clad blonde. She's at the head of a table full of people playing cards, and Max has no idea what they're playing but it sure looks like Rachel is winning. She's got her signature big, bright, confident smile plastered across her face, and there's a pile of loose change, cigarettes, and joints off in her corner of the table; next to a small stack of empty solo cups. 

“Hey, Rach,” the stranger calls over to her, one arm still wrapped around Max. “Is this your lost puppy I've found?”

Everyone turns to look at her. Max’s face goes hot and she isn't sure if all the ensuing smiles are genuine or mocking and she still doesn't even know the name of the girl draped over her and –

“Maxie!” Rachel's voice is just as bright and boisterous as her winner's grin, and she too has taken to Chloe’s habit of calling her almost every iteration of her name under the sun. But Max is sort of grateful for it right now. “C’mere and watch me wipe the floor with these guys. We're almost done with this game.” 

The whole table grumbles in protest to Rachel's gloating, but Max doesn't need to be told twice. She ducks out of the stranger's grip and rushes to Rachel's side, half hidden behind her. She lets out a shakey sigh of relief, knowing there's at least a cap on her nerves now that she's near someone familiar. Usually Chloe is her designated safe person, but she's in no state to be picky, and next to Rachel feels about as safe as she can manage right now. 

Rachel looks back to give her a softer, sweeter smile before turning to the girl who brought her here. “My puppy,” she snaps, in full seriousness. “Paws off.”

The girl holds her hands up in mock defense and gives Rachel a scoff, turning to leave. 

“Sorry,” she tells Max in a laugh. “A girl's gotta stake her claim. She'd eat you up if I didn't.” 

Max chokes on nothing. “She'd what?”

“You heard me,” Rachel answers, pulling some cards from her hand and dropping her offering of cigarettes into the new betting pool at the centre of the table without really paying attention, practically playing with her eyes closed. “You are absolutely fucking adorable, after all.” 

Max short circuits for a minute while she tries to process the sentiment. A chorus of groans and grievances circle the table. 

“Goddamnit, again?”

“What are you a fucking wizard?”

“C'mon, Rach, you're bleeding me dry here.” 

“She barely even looked at her fucking cards! What the hell!” 

Rachel answers them all with that dazzling smile, tone honeyed and blithe. “I can't help that Lady Luck favors me so.” She nods towards Max beside her. “Especially now that I have my good luck charm with me. Back out while you still can.” 

That's something about Rachel that Max can't help but admire. That damn silver tongue, effortlessly charming and always sharp enough to quip back with ease. She's somehow bolder when she's been drinking, if such a thing is even possible. So far Max has only ever dealt with the aftermath of drunk-Rachel, she's never actually been around to watch it in action. She can see why the girl is often considered the life of the party, bouncing from conversation to conversation without a hitch and still managing to make a show of shuffling the deck all the while. 

“Where’s Chloe? Weren’t you guys sticking together?” 

Max startles back to attention, still disoriented from being off on her own and maybe the slightest bit buzzed from what little she had to drink earlier. She finds Rachel staring up at her with those all too alluring hazel eyes of hers. Maybe Max doesn't mind her looking, either. 

To say it's a struggle to get her voice working would be an understatement. “We were. And then we went looking for you and I– I got lost.”

Rachel hums as if considering a particularly tough equation. “Ah, I see, I see. Well, come sit with me for a bit. Chloe will find us eventually.”

Max raises an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure?” 

“Poor, sweet, Maximilian,” Rachel replies in her infamous Shakespearean drama voice. “Always so caught up in the pesky certainties of life. Sit, have a drink, see for yourself if I'm sure or not.” 

When Max continues standing there staring at her like a very confused fish out of water, Rachel offers her best impersonation of Chloe by grinning like a great, joyful fool and moving to tug Max down into her lap. Both hands gripping her small waist, relishing in the startled little eep it earns her. 

“C’mon, Caulfield. Live a little.” She drops her voice to a murmur, husky and low and so close to Max’s ear that she could probably nibble on it if she wanted to. Not that Max is thinking about that or anything. “You’ll be fine. I'll look after you, promise.” 

Max shivers and she knows that Rachel can feel every second of it, that she's enjoying it. For a minute still she debates what to do, but as much as she wants to find Chloe, Max also doesn’t want to get up and risk losing track of Rachel again. Besides, she’s probably right. Chloe will find them eventually. She shouldn’t get so caught up in knowing every last detail ahead of time, that’s the whole point of why they brought her here. Like Rachel said, she should live a little.

So she takes in a breath of that jasmine perfume Rachel's so fond of, tries to relax in her hold, and asks what game they’re playing.

Rachel is all too happy to talk her through it as she deals everyone’s hand, putting an unequivocally silly amount of theatrics into her explanation, not that that stops everybody from hanging onto her every word. Even if most of them have undoubtedly heard the whole spiel before. Max then proceeds to watch her demolish everyone at another few rounds, midway through which someone brings them both a refill of something fruity and red.

“You made mine a double, right?” Rachel calls after them.

“They’re both doubles,” they answer with an enthusiastic thumbs up and a foolish grin, before disappearing back into the crowd outside.

“Sorry about that,” Rachel offers with a half bashful, half guilty expression. “Don't worry if you can't finish yours, I'll take it.” She pauses for a moment, laughs to herself. “Although it would be kinda fun to see you go wild for once.” 

And Max, perhaps incentivized by all the physical affection or perhaps looking for a way to enjoy it without feeling like she's going to blow up, takes that as a challenge. “It's okay,” she assures, with far too much determination for her own good, a hamfisted plot to impress already forming in her mind. “I can handle it.”

First things first, she takes a massive gulp of whatever was just handed to her. Then, instead of whatever the hell she thought she was gonna do, she grimaces like she just swallowed a brick. 

Rachel laughs, a brilliant, golden sound that serves as higher reward than Max could ever hope for. “Easy there, tiger,” she says, holding Max a little tighter, closer. “You’ve gotta pace yourself.” 

“Sorry,” Max splutters in return. “I'm not used to this.” 

“I can tell.” Rachel laughs again, this one slow and syrupy; eyes roaming Max’s face with reckless abandon. “Don’t worry, I think it's cute.” 

“Jesus, get a room,” one of the boys at the table huffs. “I thought we were playing cards here.” 

“I'm in one,” Rachel replies without missing a beat, delightfully glib and sounding far too proud of herself. “And I think you mean losing at cards here. Read ‘em and weep, fellas.” 

She lays her cards out for everyone to see with decidedly cocky flair, all but basking in the latest bout of cursing her name to fly around the table. She offers Max a victory toast, giggling once more at the girl's sour expression and knocking back half of her own drink without even flinching. By the time Rachel actually comes out of a round empty handed, they've had so many victory toasts that Max can't remember just how long they've been here. Long enough that she's been able to arrange their hoard of treasure into several smaller piles. Long enough that the sensory onslaught she'd been so arduously fighting through feels a thousand miles away.

Drinking makes everything a little fuzzier, makes all the lights and sounds and staring a little more bearable. It also destroys her sense of time and makes her approximately a thousand percent more likely to say something stupid. But it's not all bad. She manages to crack a few jokes that have everyone laughing, and as the minutes march on and the drinks keep magically appearing beside her on the table, Max finds herself growing bolder.

“Looks like your hot streak is finally over,” someone says to Rachel as the round comes to end, slurring their words and leering over at her in premature triumph. 

Max watches in equal parts concern and entertainment as Rachel swings her latest cup around a bit dangerously. “Hey, don't count me out just yet,” she huffs, sneaking a sip between sentences. “Max, quick, give me a kiss for good luck.” 

And instead of questioning it, instead of stammering and getting all flustered, Max leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek. Which is bold by her standards. She's still a bit shy about kissing either of them, but especially Rachel. She's just so intimidatingly pretty, and nice, and way, way out of Max's league. Sometimes she still doesn't understand why Rachel was even willing to be in this little triangle relationship with her, let alone be the one to suggest it in the first place. But when a gift horse opens, you don't look it in the mouth. Or something like that. 

And why not try and be a little brave for once? That's what all the liquid courage was for, after all.

But Rachel, as Max has often heard, is someone who isn't afraid to ask for more, more, more. Even as the alcohol robs her of some of her usual eloquence. “I meant tongue luck,” she says, complete with an admittedly adorable and endearingly earnest pout. 

For a minute, the nervousness returns tenfold. A thousand worries and wonders swirl around her head and she can't help but think of all the eyes on them, all the pressure, all the ways she could mess this up. All the ways she could disappoint. If it's all just meant to be a joke and she's taking it way too seriously and getting herself worked up over nothing again. 

But then she's looking at Rachel and Rachel's looking at her and Max is drunker than she's ever been and suddenly none of it matters anymore. Suddenly, she doesn’t need to be sure of anything other than the fact that she’s the lucky one for getting to be so close to Rachel. Before she can talk herself out of it, Max takes the girl’s face in both hands and kisses her. Really kisses her, just barely sliding under the bar of full stop making out as she startles back when someone at the table cheers for them. 

“I-Is that more what you had in mind?” She mumbles upon pulling away, fixing Rachel with a bashful, doe-eyed stare. She knows people must be staring again, but it’s fine. She can just look at Rachel and pretend no one else exists instead, let go of all her nerves and replace them with those sunny hazel eyes and that silky, honey-blonde hair.

And that's so, so goddamn easy it isn't even funny. 

Rachel blinks back at her, momentarily dazed, before breaking out into an expression best described as the cat who got the cream. “Yeah,” she says, half breathless, moving to ruffle Max’s hair. “Good puppy.”

Max just keeps looking at her, for a moment or two, and then she feels her face going red again as it catches up to her, so she rushes to hide in Rachel’s shoulder. “That’s mean,” she whines, piteous and small, doing absolutely nothing to help her case. “That’s so mean.”

“Duly noted,” Rachel answers with a devious little hum, and Max can picture the way she’s grinning ear to ear at the new source of teasing material. 

She reaches out over Max to grab her latest hand, and Max knows solely by the way Rachel's fingers dance along her waist that it's another good one. She tries to keep her drunken grin hidden from the silent tension of the rest of the table. The quiet won't last long, of course. Even without looking Max can count down to the oncoming clamor; four, three, two…

The person who'd been taunting Rachel a few minutes ago drops their cards down and heaves a melodramatic sigh, and the guy next to them lets out a cry of, “You fucking jinxed it, dude,” while giving them a playful shove. 

“This is madness. This is actual madness.”

“So fucking unfair. Yo, can I get some of that tongue luck over here?”

Max winds up with a fresh lungful of jasmine as Rachel wraps a protective arm around her, threading her fingers through her hair. “Nope,” she answers in Max's stead. “No way. Didn't you hear me earlier? Mine.” 

Max is learning a lot of things about herself tonight. Like how it's kind of exciting when Rachel gets territorial over her, or that the more she hears it the less she questions being likened to a puppy. Or that she apparently isn't above letting Rachel hold the cup to her lips and coax her into another victory sip after finding her own cup empty. 

Oh, and according to one of the many strangers at the table she's, ‘so light of a lightweight she should win an award.’ Rachel agrees wholeheartedly and gives Max another pat on the head, which Max was too busy enjoying to really pay attention to what they were saying. 

All in all a very educational evening. 

“I think that’s it for you tonight,” Rachel says, finishing off the rest of her cup in one swig. Max almost shudders just watching her. “Chloe will probably have my head if I get you any more wasted.”

“She’s already gonna have your head.”

Max turns to face the source of the interruption, smiling like she's just laid eyes on the sun after a long dreary winter, but Rachel scoffs and remains oblivious. 

“Says who?” she huffs, defensive and gloating. Everyone stares at the space behind her.

“Says me,” answers Chloe, arms crossed, leaning ominously over Rachel and donning an I'm so gonna kill you sort of grin. Rachel tilts her head back to look up at her. Her tone comes out sickly sweet and simmering with a hint of trouble just beneath. “And what have you two been up to while I was running around half the night wondering where the fuck you were?” 

“Winning,” Max says, without a hint of irony. In fact she can’t help but to beam with pride as she proclaims, “I’m her good luck puppy.”

Chloe blinks down at her once, twice, and then moves to pull Max up into a hug. Max hums contentedly to herself. She really is the lucky one, having not just one but two girlfriends tossing her around like a hot potato. Oh yeah, this is the life.

“There, there,” Chloe assures, probably meant in jest but Max soaks it up as if it were genuine, leaning up into Chloe's touch as the girl pets her hair. “What's reckless ol’ Rachel got done to you, huh?” 

Rachel gasps in melodramatic mock offense. “What have I done? You wound me, good sir.”

“You got Max drunk.”

“Well, you lost her.” 

“Not on purpose,” Chloe snaps back. “Pretty big distinction there, Rach.” 

“Tomato, to-mah-to.” 

Max interrupts them with the utmost confidence, even as she finds her tongue heavy and uncooperative. “Ladies, ladies, please.” Both the words themselves and the hiccup that follows them are muffled in the fabric of Chloe’s jacket, but Max doesn't move. “There’s enough a’ me to go around.”

“Oh she's smashed. Jesus, Rach, you really are a bad influence.” Chloe's probably trying to tell her off, but the effect is greatly lessened by the fact that she's audibly covering up a laugh. “Max, Maxster, Maximilian, how are you doing? How much have you–”

“Rachel already used that one tonight,” Max notes, somehow coming in too late and too early at the same time.

“... had. That answers that question.” Chloe pulls back all of a sudden and Max scrambles not to tip over. “Wait, which one? First or second?”

“Second.”

“Ugh, what? C'mon, Rach, you know I've been saving that one.”

Rachel offers her best attempt at that snake-charmer’s smile, and Max finds herself thinking that she'd never be able win an argument against her. “Yeah, sorry, it just kinda slipped out. It is pretty good.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere now, Princess.” Chloe huffs back. “C'mon, up, both of you. I'm cuttin’ ya off.”

One of the guys lets out a cheer. “And my wallet is once again saved by the power of Rachel having a spousal dispute! Thanks, Price. You're a lifesaver.”

Rachel starts saying something about finally getting lucky only to have the competitive smirk wiped off her face by Chloe elbowing her in the side. Max dutifully gathers up the various little piles of Rachel's winnings and the two of them share a look as she hands them over. Though it must have been longer than just a glance, because the next thing Max knows Chloe is between them and has them both by the shirt collars like a pair of unruly kittens getting picked up by the scruff of the neck. 

“Well, I’d better get Romeo and Juliet over here back home before they start fucking on the table–”

“Chloe,” Max sputters, having just enough remaining wherewithal to get flustered over such a remark. 

Rachel does another one of those laughably dramatic gasps. “What kind of brute do you take me for?” She adds, far too nonchalantly, “I'd bring her to a room first. I'm not an animal.”

“Rachel,” Max squeaks, balking over at the girl with her face undoubtedly turning cherry red. Rachel offers only a drunkard’s smirk and a wink in return.

“ – And as you can see, I've got my hands full.” Chloe continues, barreling over them. 

She lets them go and gives them both a pat on the back, trying to get them to start heading out but only succeeding in sending them stumbling into each other. 

“Thanks for keepin’ an eye on ‘em for me,” she sighs. It's quickly replaced with a devilish smirk of her own as she reaches to give the guy a few rough pats on the shoulder. “Oh, and thanks for never learning your lesson when it comes to betting joints against Rachel. I'll be smoking good tonight, thanks to you.”

“Ugh, don't remind me.” He nods towards Rachel and Max, both of whom are not so subtly eyeing the setup for the next round. “Now get those two outta here before they find a way to win from halfway across the room.” 

Chloe turns back to them. “Alright guys, you heard him. Time to scram.” 

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” Max says as they head for the door, giving Chloe a haphazard salute. 

“Ooh, are we pirates?” Rachel asks, before nodding sagely in approval. “Hell yeah. Yeehaw.”

Chloe fights to form a sentence around the burst of laughter that follows. “That's cowboys, you dumbass. How much have you had?”

“A lot,” Max supplies, trying not to trip over herself as they step into the cool night air outside. “Like, twenty cups.���

“It wasn't twenty,” Rachel huffs. “More like a sensible seven. And jeez, way to tattle on me, Caulfield.”

Max blinks over at her. “Oh, sorry. Can I try again?” Without waiting for an answer, she turns to Chloe. “Rachel had a nice sensible seven drinks and there's nothing to worry about.” Then, she turns back over to Rachel with a thumbs up and a lopsided, optimistic grin; whispering as if Chloe isn't right next to them and listening to every word. “Was that better?”

“Perfect,” Rachel just barely manages to answer through a bout of giggling. “Thanks, Maxie.”

The sharp flick of a lighter draws both of their attention, and they find Chloe in the process of lighting up one of the joints she'd claimed as ‘drunk-sitter tax.’ They both watch a little too intently as she takes that first drag and lets it plume out into the dark. “Don't mind me,” she coughs. “I'm just tryna get on your guys’ level. You've got like one brain cell between you right now, I gotta get in on this shit if I'm gonna be the one dealing with it.”

“Do you want some tongue luck?” Max asks, too earnest for her own good. “For dealing with us?”

Chloe stops walking. “Do I want what?”

Max turns on her heel and closes their distance, reaching up to take gentle grip of Chloe's jacket. “Here,” she says, getting up on her tiptoes. “Let me show you.”

Chloe makes this cute little noise of surprise, muffled by Max's mouth over hers, and it only serves to spur the girl on. It doesn't take long for Chloe to melt into it however, unconsciously leaning towards Max as she pulls back, keen on continuing. 

“Damn,” Chloe whispers, eyeing Max with a look of eagerness and wonder. “Drunk-Max has game.”

“I know, right?” Rachel agrees on the end of a smokey exhale, having nabbed the joint from Chloe's hand while she wasn't paying attention.

Max puffs up like an overexcited budgie trying to show off for its mate. “I can't help being so swaggy.”

For a minute, all is quiet.

“Aaaaand we're back to normal,” Chloe notes with a humorous sigh, while next to her Rachel breaks into a fit of contagious cackling.  

Max merely smiles to herself, watching their faces light up as they chase each other in circles over the joint, listening as they calm halfway down only for one of them to start up again and drag the other into a fresh round of barely contained laughter. She may be playing more on the wild side than usual tonight, but she still finds herself sure — super extra mega double absolutely positively one hundred percent sure – of one thing.

No amount of alcohol could compare to the rush and butterflies of making her girlfriends happy. 

[90ekz]

color me purple <3 ft j. kirstein

୨⎯ tags ⎯୧- black fem reader, hickeys, kink discovery, switch!jean, dom!reader, sexual tension, jealousy, reader & jean are roommates, grinding/dry humping, nipple play, [light] degradation.

being roommates with jean is harder than you’d imagined.

between the lack of shirts he wears, and the pants that hang ridiculously low on his hips and leave nothing to the imagination—like, at all—you often find yourself clenching your thighs together just to ignore the dull ache that occurs there way too often.

not to mention his loose curls and pretty teeth, mixed with how sweet he was to you on the first day you met him. that smooth voice telling you how grateful he was for you almost left you in a puddle on the floor.

jean is levelheaded, and seemed a bit private, which didn’t bother you.

but since the day you met him, he’s made one thing very clear.

jean kirstein fucks.

there’s often times you’d return back to your shared apartment to hear heavy whines and whimpers, accenting the rough knocking on the wall.

sometimes you’d be working in the living room, just to catch jean strutting out of his bedroom, wiping his lips with a slight smirk.

“you’re fuckin’ nasty.”

he’d always smile at you with those eyes, post-orgasm haze still lingering on his features. it was like he knew that the sound of him groaning lowly through the walls made your body hot, and he was taking advantage of that.

“just havin’ fun. no shame in that, right?”

hmm. whatever.

it’s not like you cared. it’s not like you wanted it to be you under him instead, not like you wanted to make him moan even louder than-

you didn’t care.

your eyes dropped heavily with a sigh, so hard that you almost missed jean ushering the girl out of his room and to her car. he smiled once more at you before closing the door the apartment. 

you couldn’t help but notice the bright red and purple marks decorating her nape and lower back, and wondered how they would look on your skin.

or… jean’s skin. how would he look with marks all over his body?

it doesn’t matter.

even now, sitting on the couch weeks later, the question lingered in your mind still. you just… you wanted to ruin his perfect skin.

the more you saw him shirtless, the more you wanted to color him red and purple. it made your whole body throb with desire and want.

he hadn’t had a girl over since the last incident, either.

“god i’m starving. i might run out and get some food, you want something? i’ll probably go to that new indian place downtown…”

half the words that he was saying to you weren’t registering, with that big bulging chest in your face, only a wifebeater to cover it. your thoughts once again wandered back to how badly you wanted to mark him, and suddenly you were on your tippy toes, kissing his plush lips.

he instantly melted into it, teeth smacking against your lips as he couldn’t hold back his smile.

“o-oh. i like that.”

for the first time since you met, jean was being shy, clearly shocked by your sudden attack on his lips. but he didn’t stop you, pulling you into his lips once more.

his tongue explored your mouth with stupor, causing a few whines to slip out of your mouth. fuck, he was trying to swallow you whole, almost like he was hungry for it.

he pulled away with a gasp, considering he hadn’t come up for air in a while. you didn’t give him any time to breathe though, as you instantly pressed your lips to his neck and sucked.

jean nothing short of falls apart, his now hard cock making itself known on your inner thigh. when you pulled off, you whined at how dark you’d made the mark. it was so much hotter than you’d imagined.

so hot that you didn’t hesitate to rip off his tank and color his chest just the same.

“s-shit! ‘s sensitive..”

you muttered praises and reassurances into jean’s plush chest as you colored him purple and red, your own body burning hot as you listened to his desperate groans.

it didn’t help that he was being such a slut by grinding his sensitive cock onto your thigh.

jean just couldn’t help but chuckle, though.

“what’s so funny, jean?”

“you’re—ngh fuck—you’re so into this, aren’t you?”

you smacked you teeth in annoyance, because he was right. your panties were absolutely soaked, and there was a throbbing ache between your thick thighs that was growing harder and harder to ignore.

“maybe i’m just into how much of a slut you’re being.”

that only made him grind his hips harder.

you made it a point to rub circles on his nipples in the pace of his thrusts. your only goal—your resolve, was to make him cum untouched.

“what if i made you cum without ever touching your dick? what would that do to you?”

“f-fuuck. dn’t leave me like that, give it t’me…”

you smiled serenely at him, pretty eyes brimming with tears.

who were you to deny your baby?

[hellsfirekeepsyouwarm]

Hiii. Please write something with Billy Russo. Your choice but please some fluff 🙏🏻

Hello Luv, here i go with your request, thanks for sending it my way <3

"Pretty Face Like You"

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy wait for you to arrive to your usual place, finally deciding to give in to his feelings for you.

Warnings: Alcohol, cuteness



The air is filled with the smell of alcohol, sweat and various perfumes mixed together. All type of people sitting around, noisy truck drivers playing pool, girls in bachelorette uniform shirts giggling every damn time his eyes swift over them, depressed lone wolves lining up at the bar stools. On second thought, he might understand the flirt the ladies give him, he indeed looks like one of those lonely guys, waiting to be snatched up by someone. Couple of months ago, he wouldn't even wait for one of them, he would be at their table, stealing the spotlight for himself. But right now, he's just waiting for you to put your pretty ass down on the chair next to him, and devour him with your presence. He's been glancing at the entrance too many times, expecting you emerging any minute. He acts like you are late, but he arrived early, there is still time before your scheduled time, but he can't help the nervousness that forces his eyes towards that door all the time.

He ordered your drink already, knowing by heart what you'll have, in the meanwhile trying to stay away from his own drink, his fingers playing on the cold bottle to distract his brain. He wants to chug it down to ease his nerves, but he can't be drunk when you arrive. So his sips are subtle, just for the taste really.

He sees the bartender looking at him, pity in her eyes. She surely thinks he's being stoop up. Billy can sense her intentions, but is still slightly taken back by her offer.

"You know, a pretty face like you shouldn't spend the evening alone. I close at 2 if.."

He feels a light breeze next to him, unable to stop the smile creeping up on his lips.

"I'm sorry love, traffic was a pain on my ass." You say sweetly, your hand signaling your arrival on Billy's shoulder, your palm pressing down as you help yourself up to the bar stool. It's a simple act, but nevertheless it makes his heart throb in his throat. Anything that serves you he would give happily and willingly.

His head turns slowly, the playful smile plastered on him, excitement coursing through in his veins. How can someone feel so much at the same time? He is nervous, excited, happy and giddy, scared and terrified. Every fucking emotion is toying with him when he looks at you.

You smile, eyes sparkling with mischief. Oh you think you saved him from the unwanted attention, eyes scanning the bartender. He can see flashing something on your face, a slip of your facade, only for a brief second before you regain your usual soft look.

He swears he can see his future in your eyes. Now the thought not as scary as the first time it happened. And not as cringe. It's a thought belonging in romcoms, not in his head, but that doesn't make it go away, he's no longer opting to remove it either.

"Hey." He gives you a side hug, electricity shocking his skin when your face meets with his. You smell delicious, fresh out of the shower, he thinks. Wearing the perfume he likes so much, now lingering on his own clothes. "Arrived just in time."

"Uh, i'm sure it would have been terrible to be snatched by the pretty blonde for the night." You tease. Billy knows it's your way to find out if you stepped over the line. With his dating habits, you never knew when to interrupt, and when no to. Billy visibly shift of the thought, you seeing him mingle with women he cannot even remember. It's ridiculous honestly. He can't recall the times you have seen him flirting, but he can vividly remember every damn occasion you got male attention.

"Oh, i enjoy the look on her face way more than i would enjoy a night in her bed."

"Uhum, she was utterly baffled." You smile, more to yourself really, putting your glass to your lips. You hide away, behind your casual actions, to prevent him to see the tremble in your hands, or how you rub your palm against you denim jeans. But he sees everything. Nothing goes past him, giving him the feedback he's yearning for. That you are just as smitten with him, as he is with you. He's been looking for the signs, the clues. The ones he ignored or took as a winning when it came to everybody else.

"Let's make the most of it then." Billy just does what his heart tells him to. He grabs your barstool, pulling you with it awfully close. Your eyes widen, and it's the most adorable thing he ever witnessed. You are so clueless and awkward, but it is what he's living for.

"What are you doing William?" You say, merely a whisper, a whisper he's not sure he heard, his focus is on to repress his grow that forms in his throat at the feeling of your body flush against his.

He sees your surprised face under his half lidded eyes, already ecstatic from you. He's not hiding it anymore. The fear of you denying his affection is gone with every little doubt he had. Your sparkly eyes hungrily roams Billy's face, eyes to his pink tainted cheeks, right down to soft lips, tongue darting out, licking his upper lip. You are so caught up in the moment, you forget to hide the awe on your face.

Billy will forever lock this image in his memory, you are bare in front of him, beautifully confused by his actions. In this fragment of time, he knows exactly how a wedding band would look on your finger, and how your kids will inherit that spark from your eyes, and he would never it to say it out loud how much he cares about you. Past William Russo might would have laughed at himself, thinking it's a naive thing, a soft thing to feel this way about someone, but in the midst of his dangerous life, he can see himself find some relief in you.

"Billy," You ask, still shocked, pretty doe eyes looking up at him under dark lashes. He focuses on your lips, ready to take a leap of faith, and trusting his instinct about you reciprocating his feelings.

You just let it happen, frozen to your place, his kiss soft and demanding, giving and taking, a moan of satisfaction bubbles between the two of you when you kiss back. And oh my god he is the happiest man on earth. He wants to stop, but it's hard when you are so sweet and irresistible against his body, the heat growing inside him a like a wildfire.

If you don't break the kiss, he would have continued, not a care in the word who sees you. But you are embarrassed, cheeks flushed crimson red, shifting nervously on your seat. You look around, but all he sees is you. You are at the edge, your brain trying to overcome the awkwardness and the confusion. He gently pulls your chin towards him, a comforting and warm look in his eyes.

"Darling..." He starts, but you interrupt him with a quick peck, unsure but a kiss nevertheless. He smiles brightly, cocky even.

"Oh that look, Russo. Don't make me regret doing that." You say with a regained confidence he knows and loves.

His palms in the air, acting like nothing happened, but the grin is more apparent than ever on his handsome features.

"I don't know what look you are talking 'bout." He murmurs into your skin, causing a tremble in your body, goosebumps decorating your skin. "Can we get out of this place, love?"

All he needs a nod from you, sweeping you up from your seat, leaving the unfinished drinks with lovesick giggles.

[woonova]

꩜ ﾟ˖ REASSURANCE

◟﹙ 🏐 ﹚nishimura riki ﹕oneshot ﹙ @woonova ﹚

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  written to flashing lights by kanye west

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  genre fluff, established relationship

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  synopsis no matter if it's doubt about a performance for an upcoming game or the performance during said game, you and niki will always be there to reassure the other. in more ways than one.

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  warning kissing ig....

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  wc 0.8k ﹙ 835 words ﹚

rin's notes ! i still can't beleive i wrote this all in one sitting in less than an hour, i'm sorry if it's bad....i mean i did write it really fast so. also in my niki era rn >_<

— tumblr’s algorithm works best with reblogging so plz consider reblogging and liking my posts ! —

THERE WAS ABOUT TEN MINUTES LEFT until the start of the final match of the season, and you were sitting anxiously on a bench in the girls locker room. A big red bow decorating your hair, along with the few pieces that laid to rest just above your eyes, in the form of a soft fringe. Delicately tapping a finger against your exposed thigh, which was a result of your equally red and sparkly cheer outfit moving along with your constant jittering. You went over your routine around several times over, determined to complete your performance without any mistakes.

It wasn't the first time you found yourself in this state. Nervously moving about in a secluded spot as you rerun all steps to the complicated performance you were about to well, perform. You shakily moved your hands towards the tight ponytail that sat atop your head, loosening its grip and playing with the fly-away strands to calm yourself down. Sure, you loved cheering, but those pre performance jitters could really do a number on you.

However, for every performance you encountered and the subsequent nerves that came with it, you could always count on your boyfriend, Niki to get rid of any feeling of uneasiness that plagued your mind in the moment. And with this reassuring knowledge you could always step out onto the glossed basketball court with your head held high, and your heart ready to burst at the seams whenever you would catch sight of your beloved partner.

And today was no different. You stepped out of the confinements of the female locker room and onto the court with a small smile resting on your lips. Your head was held high and your shoulders straight. Your heart however, was not holding up well. Not because of stress or nervousness, but because of your ridiculously attractive boyfriend making his way over to you with a huge boxy smile. A thin layer of sweat decorating his skin, probably from the warm ups he had done earlier.

"Hey baby, you feeling okay?" He spoke to you in such a soft voice, that it almost made you melt right there on the spot. You gave him a giddy smile and a nod in response, still touched that he had come to check up on you once again.

"Are you sure, I mean i'm sure I can give you some extra reassurance." His sweet smile quickly changed to a sly one as he pulled himself closer to you, his slightly sweaty hair and uniform coloured in a hue similar to yours, along with the white sweatband that wrapped itself around his forehead made him even more attractive in your eyes.

"I'm sure Niki," you started with a small chuckle. "Are you actually 'cause i can —"

"Go! And remember to make the whole school proud, okay. They're kinda counting on your amazing gameplay captain." You cut him off with a teasing tone and a now beaming smile. Throwing a small compliment in the mix simply because you loved how his confident persona would immediately crumble and be replaced by his rarely seen flustered state. Rarely seen to the public that is.

He seemed to let go of his sly remarks and offered you a small pout in return as he held onto the ball that rested in his palms a bit tighter when he heard his name being called. "You're right, someone has to lead this team to victory and who better than me, right?"

"Right!"

And with that he left, heading towards his teammates with a slight pep in his step because of your recent interaction. You watched as he slowly moved further away before he abruptly stopped and made his way back to you. You eyed him eagerly as you wondered what his next move would be, but regardless of whatever thought had crossed your mind, this was certainly not what you were expecting.

You were greeted by Niki for a second time, with a passion filled kiss. His lips met yours in an endearing embrace and his arms paralleled the movement as he absentmindedly wrapped them around your waist. You stood in this embrace for a while until Niki slowly pulled away, fearing that if he didn't do it now, he would never leave your warm touch.

"Sorry, I just needed some extra reassurance." He mumbled out with a foxy smile as he repeated his words from earlier. He stood there for just a while longer looking at you with eyes filled to the brim with adoration and love. The loud cheers coming from students who had been entering the gym, filling up the stands rapidly broke Niki out of his daze. And he stepped back before fixing the crooked hair bow that was tied to your updo, and offering you another cheeky smile before leaving.

"Now i'll definitely be able to lead the team to victory. Dont worry, i'll do well. With you cheering me on, i'm sure I will. I'll make you proud baby"

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  sponsors @hyfenet @k-labels @en-web @k-films

© https://...woonova | 2023

[mariailoveyou-guerin]

Boarders is so good this should’ve been on Netflix so more people could know about it not they they would watch as it’s not yt lead show and don’t have a single main white character, when it’s usually only just 1-2 or half black token characters in white show anyways all the characters are so good and they have 4 black boys so mf different from each other you know ain’t no one but a black person write these characters they to good and not ur stereotypical sh*t on Netflix or the others on other hand if it was on Netflix you know they would cancel that sh*t faster then the speed of light Netflix cancels anything that has black teens being anything but gangster dr*g pushers bullies ect in Netlfix a black teen show can only exist if they are teens like in top boy like they did zero a show about a black teen in Italy living life trying to save his neighbourhood having superpowers and being manga drawer fan of anime like they really said black characters/teens being anything but gangster dealers cu*t that sh*t out now how did we even green light that sh*t! Who allowed it def got sacked they cant give us black teens in EU being just wholesome without trauma dru*gs gangster ect but can give us 5 mf szn 5 whole shows of the same 2 yt twinks falling in love in different EU cities/schools/universes wtf Netlfix FCVK YOU ALWAYS!!

Loving the dea*th in paradise music that comes on how did they know that’s my favorite show they know me down and the fact they have the light skinned girl not thinking she’s better then the dark skin black girl or thinking the dark skinned girl is jealous of her but actually friends and super nice to each other not in fake way where one or is back talking her to her while friends like nah netflix could never I remember motel where they had the mixed girly think the dark skinned girl was bitter and jealous of her bc the guys wanted her saying she was better prettier it was so ridiculous even so far to make the dark skinned girl he the villain of the show havinf us believing she was unworthy or bitter jealous of lightly oh Netflix is truly trash actually at bottom of the barrel they in hell for real I only have it for jjpope popecleo polin season afterwards I’m gone

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicmas23 Day 2: In the Dark of the Night 2 (Eye of the Storm)

Good evening everyone! I hope your December is going well and slightly more organized than mine! I am also exhausted, so please excuse any ridiculous errors.

Tonight, we have a section from the sequel to In the Dark of the Night; Cryptid Alice-verse is a favorite of mine - the world is bonkers, Alice is nuts, and Jasper is just here for a good time. This was requested by an anon early in the year, and I was happy to add it to the list. (Heads up, for 2024, I am changing how ficmas requests work for my own sanity.)

This is a very early first draft of this fic, so everything and anything is liable to be retconned but we're here for vibes above all else. I highly recommend reading the first story or this is going to be extra weird.

tw: allusions to rape & abuse; generalized descriptions of body horror.

eye of the storm.

The coloured lights flash over the room at random - hundreds of sweaty, reeking human bodies and the kind of music that rattles its way through your bones. It’s loud and dark and has become one of Alice’s favourite places in a very long time. The raves in Berlin - and most of Europe - are the easiest places to hunt.

The music is good, too. And she loves to dance. 

She blends in well enough, with the skin-tight skirt and the top that only covers up the bare minimum, and the artfully smudged makeup. Enticing enough to catch attention, but not memorable enough that she’s at risk. Not that it would matter that much, but she prefers to be just another face in the crowd. 

It allows her to hunt for longer in one place, when she’s utterly forgettable. 

She orders a drink, and then another, because human alcohol makes her feel warm and her limbs feel looser. It makes dancing better, and the people easier with her - some of them can sense that she is not like them, that she is something old and complex and terrible. The alcohol makes her more likeable, more human, even when it’s her imbibing it. 

But her head is still clear when she finds a mark, when he sidles up to her with undeserved confidence. He’s the kind of smug that comes from money and a lack of consequences. She doesn’t miss the pill in her next drink or the way his smile widens when she tosses the drink back like water. The effect of the pill is minimal on her; it manifests several moments later, when they’re sneaking upstairs to the store rooms, past the velvet rope blocking the narrow steps. She stumbles on her high heels and he chuckles low; unfriendly and the kind of laugh that would chill anyone else. 

And then her dizziness passes, and she almost pities him. 

It goes the same way as always - he thinks he’s got the upper hand; she acts enthusiastic to his ministrations and she knows he almost feels bad - mostly that he wasted whatever tranquilliser he slipped into her drink, not about the harm he planned for her.

Her venom tingles on his lips and tongue, and he blames the drink or five he’s had and settles in. 

She thinks about asking him some questions once her venom addles him, questions she shouldn’t know to ask. About girls and pills, about hurting and pain, about the haunted little sister he’s not allowed to see anymore. 

But that’s not why she’s here, and would just agitate him. It always gets messy when they get agitated; she hates it when they panic. 

Luckily, he’s easily subdued because she’s absolutely starving. Probably the alcohol. Her venom does funny things when alcohol is in the mix.

She’s not in the mood to take her time and be neat about this; she tears into him like an animal - first is that ephemeral part of him that humans have no word for him. The sacred part, similar to a soul. The pain of that defies understanding; she remembers hers being flayed from her being, once. Punishment for poor judgement. Humans’ are delicious and she savours it. 

It’s all over too quickly, and she leaves him behind without looking back - lying in the middle of that dark, dirty room with the music ponding through the floor. His throat ripped out and ragged, and his chest cavity open, gleaming wet and red but hollowed out for her hunger. His left femur is broken; a rather pitiful attempt at a protest. 

The blood on her skin and in her hair sinks in, pulled through to other hungry parts of her in different points of time and space. She’s nothing and nobody, and no one pays attention as she slips back to the bar for one last drink; sugar sweet enough to make her teeth ache but with that hot dry burn she enjoys more than she should. 

It’ll be at least a day, if not two, before they find him. A horrific death, the work of a psychopath. A little sister will hide in her bed to muffle her relief that he’s gone and never, ever coming home. Almost a dozen girls will smile at the knowledge that he might not face a judge and jury, but something took their pound of flesh. 

But her messiness means that she’ll only have another night or two before she has to move on. She’ll eat again, and that should last her for a while. 

A pity. She liked Berlin. 

—

The next night - her grand finale before she leaves for Norway - is a grown-ass man who shouldn’t be offering her the things he whispers in her ear, shouldn’t be sliding his hands up her stocking-clad leg - shouldn’t have even approached her and brazenly taken a seat at her booth. 

This time, it’s in an all-night coffee shop with dim lighting and a faint haze that comes from carelessly bold patrons lighting up at the late hour. She demurs and gives the old pervert every opportunity to leave, but he laughs at her and boxes her into the booth, and the look in his eyes is hard and absolute. 

She’s never been fixed in time and space, so she can see exactly the path that this old bastard has planned for her - either she consents or he takes it by force. He will hurt her if he needs to, like he has to other young girls before, some of them his students. 

The shadow he casts has his wife, his daughter, his mother cowering from rage and violence. He won’t be missed. So she pretends to be afraid, to be cowed by his aggression, allows him to drag her out of the booth by her elbow. She lets the flesh mottle and bruise, lets him feel like the predator. 

She lets it last as long as it takes for him to find a place where no one will hear her scream. She even lets him push her out of her shoes, but that’s no loss - she wishes she’d gotten the purple. 

And then when he’s staring down at her, his eyes greedy and violent, she smiles and she takes her prize. 

He dies in that alley, his eyes wide in terror as he faces down the kind of demon that are only meant to be found in books. Disappointingly, the honour of the killing blow goes to the dumpster he fell again, slamming his neck against the edge hard enough to break bones. She always likes the sound and the flavour when their deaths are her own. 

He’s gone before she even tastes him; she’d wish him a speedy trip to hell, but some say that’s where she was born. And the parts of his essence and soul she’s going to tear into… there won’t be anything but shreds of him left to dissolve into the air.  

“Alice.”

The call is soft and so far away and blows away the dust of an open path in her mind, a singing thread, that she had not forgotten but had long since made peace with its silence. It had been a shrine to something sacred, and she almost gasps out loud at its echo in her mind. She wants to call back, to holler down that open path, but she pauses, blood running down her face, as she listens. 

The words are faint, but heartfelt and it hurts her own head to widen that path. It’s been a while and, unlike her others, she’s only ever opened one path to one soul. One person. She’s out of practice, and it’s like untrained muscles screaming at a sudden lurch into a run. 

“Alice, I always hoped we’d cross paths again.”

The regret is heavy in his thoughts, and she presses closer, trying to see through his eyes. It’s blurry and white and green. 

“I’m sorry.”

Oh, he tastes like forest and sunshine and leather on the back of her tongue, and she missed him. He was supposed to call for her decades ago. 

But why now?

“You could have helped us. Hell, you probably could have saved us.”

That’s when he touches the ribbon in his pocket. Her ribbon, the one she left him with. A talisman, a physical anchor, a key that reinforces the path; she’s relieved he kept it. Oddly touched that he’s carrying it, but it makes everything easier for her. Clever boy; his hand on the ribbon is enough for her to grasp onto, to pull a fragment of herself into the scene in his mind. 

“I wish you were here.”

The scene sharpens as if she is standing there in the snow, barefoot, facing…

Facing down the thrice-cursed Volturi and their entire court.  

What has happened?

Aro’s smile is wide and that of a crocodile about to close its maw around the thing it wants the most. And that thing includes Jasper.

The entire city of Berlin shudders for a moment, something that will later be uneasily explained away as an earthquake, but is her rage that shakes the city at its core because she can reel it back inside of herself.

A shiver, not a storm. 

Not yet, at least. 

Aro, who has made himself untouchable over the centuries, and still manages to strike wildly at them, her and her kin. His blows rarely kill but they do cut and wound; her own scars are still fresh enough in her mind. One of the downsides of being outside of time; the memories never age right. 

The Old Ones have warned them all not to go after Aro; they are allowed only defence, never offence. They say that creatures like the Volturi, full of avarice and wrath, will pave their own downfall. They have seen it so many times before; Aro and his kin will burn themselves out, and another will take their place. 

The Old Ones and the Eternal Sleeping will not rise for anything short of war, and it will not be a war of their own making. That is the first law, and one she has obeyed. 

But this… Jasper is hers. Marked and strung together, crudely but holding fast. He is hers to defend above all else, and no one can do anything about that. She just wants to know why Aro has come after Jasper and the Cullens. What she knows about the Cullens is vague; mostly gleaned from other fragments of herself, other lives they lived. They are peaceful people with too much money and little concern for those outside themselves, no matter what they tell themselves. They are human, it is their nature. But she is certain that they are not a danger. Not to Aro, not to the human population, not to anyone. What flimsy excuse is Aro using now? A desire for more gifted bodyguards? More power and land and wealth? 

Whatever he wants, it’s nothing good. 

The words are muffled, and she takes a moment to look over at Jasper. He’s standing there beside her, stoic and staring, not flinching. The anger streaming off him is palpable and she wishes she’d seen him before now. 

You could have called me at any time, Jasper. Just to talk, just to see how I am. I would have come in a second. I wondered if you’d forgot about me, truly. I supposed I am flattered by the fact I am your last regret, your longing thought, though. 

She shudders and looks around, her senses stretching. He’s right where he’s supposed to be, and that’s a long, long way from Berlin. It’s been a long time since she had to take herself apart this way, and there’s a risk. A price that has to be paid, and she’s not unwilling to pay it, if he’s amendable. 

“Jasper?”

//

Of all the ways that Jasper thought he would die, this is not it. Not standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his closest people, staring down the army - there is no other word for what Aro has brought, larger than the biggest Southern army Jasper both faced and wielded - of Volterra, trying to defend the life of a half-breed child with ribbons in her hair and pompoms on her coat. 

This is not a trial. This is an execution, a public one as a reminder that they were here by the grace of Aro’s will and that no one is safe if the King of Volterra is displeased. 

He’s sorry he brought Peter and Charlotte into this mess. He should have known better than to trust that the Volturi would play by the rules, especially when the Volturi wrote the rulebook. 

No, this is not how he thought his death would go. 

But to be fair, he thought that once back in Texas when he was faced with three red-eyed women with smiles full of promises. So perhaps he should be more surprised that he didn’t see this coming. 

Edward gives him a pinched smile that is more of a grimace. Aro is still talking, still taking this opportunity to remind everyone who he is, that he should be considered a wise and compassionate leader. 

He wonders if Marcus considers him that; the man looks like a shadow, like the death of all things. Jasper has heard rumours about Didyme’s demise; some of them are farfetched, ridiculous even. But others… the way Aro smiles at the Cullens and their friends, Jasper cannot doubt that he is capable of terrible things. 

“Of course, there is the hidden crime, one that I’m not even certain that you yourself are aware of, dear Carlisle,” Aro smiles benevolently, but there is no kindness in his emotions. He’s angry and jealous and greedy; his gaze is flickering over all that have gathered here, for the Cullens, as if 

“You have seen my thoughts, you know of all our doings,” Carlisle intoned stoically.

“Of course, my friend! And I am delighted to discover the joy and miracle that is young Renesmee,” Aro beamed at the child, clutching tightly to Bella. “I trust that you have no comprehension about what is going on, and that loyalty to our long friendship is cherished, Carlisle.

“However, the crimes that are occurring under your nose are ones that risk not only our world, but the human one also - they are toying with things that should never be disturbed. It is an act of violence, of terrorism, unspeakable evil…

“The oldest creatures that roamed this earth, they were dangerous. Monstrous in a way that we cannot comprehend. Ungovernable. Very, very powerful in ways that have been lost to us before the first vampire walked the earth,” Aro spread his arms out, as if he is performing for a crowd. And perhaps he is. “Many of those creatures are long gone, but there are a small few that still exist amongst us. We have tried to protect our kind from them, to exterminate them to protect our secret and to protect our kind from them. They cannot be reasoned with. They are dangerous to everything we hold dear.”

Aro has everyone’s attention with that little speak, but all he can think of is a kiss that stole his mind and his will. Of limbs snapping and cracking around too-many joints, and those big eyes, with that knowing smirk. Of blood that was too hot, and the puff of a heartbeat in the back of his mind. 

Of something that lasted a night, however warped and strange it turned out, that marked his memories indelibly. 

The ribbons twists through his fingers. 

“…And yet, as I stand here, one of your friends, Carlisle, has summoned one, called one here. Is that not an act of war in itself, dear Carlisle?”

Carlisle splutters, the denial genuine and frustrated. “Aro, you’re being ridiculous!”

“I’ve been tracking this particular one for many years. She possesses a skillset that is very… dangerous if left unmonitored. Her anchor lies here, we’ve traced it. And, dear Carlisle, I believe you when you say you are ignorant of all of this. But someone here has betrayed you, and they alone should pay the price."

Aro stares at them, all good humour gone, and not a single one of them understands what he asks. Except him. 

He knows exactly what - exactly who - Aro is searching for.

Alice. 

It’s been a long time. Since he saw her. Not since he thought of her - she is one of those people who lingers in the memory; it seems impossible that it was just one night, all those years ago. Her presence always lingered; like she fundamentally changed him, changed everything, the second she hitched a ride in that truck. 

“I was… in hiding. Then I was exposed. Then I made a choice.”

“There are so many names for us, Jasper. I’d prefer if you just used mine.”

And he doesn’t understand this at all. That Aro has dragged the entire court here, across the fucking world, under the guise of a trial because of Renesmee’s existence and now, suddenly, Renesmee doesn’t matter. 

It was no secret that Aro was looking for an excuse. Of course she doesn’t matter. He knows that there are much more terrible, unseen things out there than a little half-breed girl.

(He had been prepared for that, had waited curiously to see if Renesmee came out a monstrosity, an abomination that had too long limbs and a void where her eyes should be. He had been oddly disappointed how utterly mundane she was, as if she was the key to something, to better understanding of things that were probably best left alone. Edward have been confused but annoyed at his reaction and Jasper hadn’t bothered to explain.) 

Aro knows as well as Jasper himself that Carlisle would never allow Renesmee to become something dangerous. He would sooner build her a gilded cage somewhere far away than allow Renesmee to do harm to human beings. 

Carlisle knows it as well as Jasper; that it wouldn’t be Jasper’s hands left to break Renesmee if she’s too strong, too dangerous, too unreasonable. It will be Carlisle’s, with a tender kiss and a prayer for her redemption. Aro sees Carlisle as weak and easily manipulated, and the rest of the family sees Carlisle as a pacifist, as a champion of life beyond all else. 

And Jasper sees him as a father who will protect his family from anything, even their own poor choices. As a doctor who recognises that to save a life, sometimes you must amputate, and Jasper is surprised no one else sees that in him. That they call him ‘doctor’, but they only see the man of faith. 

But he digresses. Aro has come here and it is not solely for Bella or Edward or Renesmee. It is for Alice, and she isn’t here. The Cullens have never met her, and he’s never told them about her. What would he say - “I met a demon-god-monster on a highway, and she was beautiful? We talked and argued and fucked, and then we parted ways. And I’ve never forgotten her”? They’d think he was crazier than ever. 

He’s always tasted arsenic on everything, since that terrible kiss. Always heard that faint heartbeat in his mind. Kept a ragged ribbon to worry at, looped around his keys, in his pocket for fifty something years. 

Alice…

They are going to fight and they are going to die because no one else here has the answers Aro wants, and Jasper is never going to breathe a word. The Volturi numbers into the forties, with the entire court and their witnesses. There just aren’t enough of them to win this. 

He should have fetched Maria, should have rounded up every stray, every nomad, every disenfranchised asshole this side of Monterrey for this debacle. 

Alice, I always hoped we’d cross paths again. I’m sorry.

“...Jasper?”

“Alice…”

The heartbeat in his head is beating louder, and the taste of her venom is strong on the back of his tongue.

Alice. 

—

If only a reunion could have been one of a time-stopping kiss, of being able to look the other in the eyes and say, “I’m so glad you’re safe, that you’re well. I missed you.”

Instead, it is this. 

[braveclementine]

Chapter 36

Warnings: Heavy angst

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC: Elizabeth Y/L/N (created so you don't get Y/N and Y/S/N consistently mixed up. I do not condone any copying of this.

HOGUN DID NOT STAY IN ELIZABETH'S ROOM room that night. He, Thor, and Loki had been called up to Asgard for an important meeting. He had argued for skipping it, but Elizabeth was the one that pushed him to go to Asgard.

"I'll be fine." She promised, kissing his and Loki's cheeks. "Y/N is more upset than me tonight. And she's got Stephen and Tony with her."

"But Sam is going to be with the super soldiers tonight." Hogun said, troubled. "Which means you'll be alone tonight."

Elizabeth smiled, pushing him into the circle with Thor. "And I can sleep alone for one night Hogun."

He looked upset with this, but by then, Heimdall had called them up to the Asgard in a swoosh of rainbow light and he couldn't argue anymore.

Elizabeth had then gone back into the tower to go to the kitchen and wash up the movie dishes. She could hear Steve, Sam, and Bucky yelling at each other in one of the upper rooms. She winced. She caught hers and Y/N's names and knew tomorrow something big would have happened.

She did go up to bed, but once she was actually laying in bed, she couldn't sleep.

She tossed in turned in bed, vividly reminded of that one video on the internet with the man repeating the word 'no' and with each 'no' he changed positions on the bed, even ridiculous ones like on the wall or ceiling.

Finally, she ended up with her head where her feet should've been and her feet propped up on her pillow.

She sat up quickly, burying her face into her knees and started to cry.

She wasn't sure why she was crying. Whether it was just the stress of the scene of the movie, or perhaps reliving the memory of the event.

She remembered clearly what happened, because she had been surprised when Jellybean upended her off of her back. She was a wonderful rider, and couldn't believe that she could be upended period.

When she'd landed, she was surprised once more that Y/N was already in front of her, and then was shocked when Y/N pushed her, already crying, screaming that she wasn't broken.

Elizabeth still believed to this day that there was something extremely wrong with her. Not only did she have to have so many soulmates to complete her, but that she had to have her sister's soulmates complete her.

And she was so broken that her mother wanted her dead and neither Bucky or Steve wanted anything to do with her.

That thought brought out a loud sob into her throat.

She wiped her eyes. She couldn't afford to go to pieces like this. She had already declared her fine without her soulmates. She didn't need them. She didn't even want them.

Suddenly, the door opened. She looked over and hoped that in the dark, Bucky couldn't see her red eyes.

"Can I come in?" Bucky asked hesitantly.

Not sure her voice could hold up, she nodded her head.

Bucky closed the door behind him and sat down on the edge of her bed, keeping her back to him. "Can I um, lay next to you?"

Shocked, but uncertain, Elizabeth murmured, "Um, yeah."

She laid, down, staring at the ceiling. Though Bucky did lay next to her, he kept a wide gap of space between the two of them. It was silent for a moment, and then Bucky said, "I want to tell you something."

"I don't know if I can hear excuses right now." Elizabeth murmured.

"They're not excuses." Bucky said. "I just want to tell you a story."

Elizabeth was silent and let Bucky know that it was a sign for him to continue.

"When Steve and I first met, I knew he was my soulmate immediately, even though we didn't touch. I could just feel it. We didn't touch for a while, mostly because I avoided skin to skin contact. I watched him watch girls that walked by, but none of them ever gave him a second glance.

"Steve was a sick kid. Asthma and all of these other health problems. When we finally did touch, he was in shock. He couldn't believe that we were soulmates and I tried to play it off as well. Of course, we both also knew that we had three other soulmates, and we also knew that we had the same soulmates. Originally, I think that's why he made his choice. Otherwise, I think he would have rejected me.

"When I went off to the army, he followed and he met Peggy. I could tell he was immensely disappointed that the two of them weren't soulmates, but they dated anyways."

Bucky was silent for a moment and when he spoke again, his voice was cracked.

"Steve. . . I loved Steve the moment I laid eyes on him. I was so afraid that he'd reject me. But eventually, he fell in love with me too. And I treasured our relationship immediately. We made a promise before I went into the army that no matter who our other soulmates were, we'd never let them tear us apart. We would always have the same view on our soulmates."

Bucky cleared his throat.

"Steve met Sam first of course. And I was pleased when the two of them showed up to get me and they were together. I was never sure that Steve was as strongly attracted to males as he was the females. And I liked Sam too so the three of us became a great love triangle. And then Y/N came into our lives. Steve was ecstatic. We all were, really.

"Clint. . . he told us that Y/N was having nightmares. That she had nightmares about you killing her. This. . . well it alarmed Steve. He was afraid you were a danger to Y/N. He wanted nothing to do with someone who could hurt Y/N. But I. . . I wasn't on the same page. I thought you were beautiful and kind. Innocent as well. When I heard you didn't believe in sex outside of marriage, I thought I'd met the dream girl. The one that had the same values like me. I was so ready. . ."

He cut himself off and Elizabeth felt her throat tighten.

"Steve told me he wouldn't make me choose, but he also reminded me of our promise. I knew that if I. . . if I pursued you, I'd lose him. And-" Here Bucky's voice completely cracked, "-I couldn't lose him. I couldn't lose him for anything or anyone. He's my first love and if I lost him. Can you. . . can you understand that? If Hogun asked you to avoid a soulmate?"

Elizabeth knew exactly what Bucky was feeling. Because if Hogun had asked her to avoid a soulmate the two of them shared, because he had bad vibes coming from that person, she would trust him wholeheartedly.

"Yes." She whispered listlessly. "But I would never, ever hurt my sister."

"God, I know that dol- I know." Bucky quickly corrected himself. "That's why Tony called Steve an idiot. Tony knew, or probably guessed more like it."

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because you deserve to know that it had nothing to do with you." Bucky murmured. "I know. . . I know how someone views themself when people reject them. Especially with your mother adding to it. You're. . . you're absolutely beautiful. You're intelligent. You're kind. You're. . . I wanted you so bad you can't even imagine. But. . ."

Elizabeth felt the tears quietly spill over the edges, streaming down her cheeks.

"But I cannot be with you. Because Steve. . . because even still, Steve will not be with you. And I cannot. . . I cannot be without him. And I'm sorry for hurting you. And I'm sorry that this decision will still hurt you."

Elizabeth was amazed that her voice was so calm and showed no sign of tears when she spoke, "That's alright Bucky. Thank you for telling me. I knew long before I met you all that there was a chance I wouldn't have all my soulmates. I've turned out luckier than I thought."

Bucky leaned over and kissed her forehead, before slipping off the bed. He padded over to the exit, and slipped through.

Elizabeth immediately sat up, curling into a ball and started to cry. Her emotions were all over the place and she wasn't even sure what part she was crying about. But the next thing she knew, strong arms were around her and one of them was metal.

"I'm sorry doll."

Elizabeth turned, pressing her face into his chest and sobbed out, "I just wanted all of my soulmates! I just wanted all of you to love me! That's all I ever wanted Bucky! Bucky!"

Bucky couldn't respond, looking down at the sobbing girl who had angelic beauty. He could actually feel his heart tearing apart in knife stabbing pains as she cried his name out in earnest, in begging. His arms trembled, holding her so tightly to his chest that he was afraid he'd suffocate her, but he knew all to well that this would be the one and only time he would ever get to hold her and he couldn't loosen his grip.

He held her, body wracking with sobs and the occasional, soft call of his name. And as she fell asleep, her face tear-stained against his chest, he whispered, "I love you. Forgive me for hurting you. I am so sorry."

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

YOU NOTICED THAT THERE WAS A VERY subdued atmosphere the next morning. Breakfast was near silent as Elizabeth put out plates of pancakes and waffles with an unusual amount of cheerlessness. You also noticed that she seemed close to tears and was avoiding looking at Bucky in particular.

Bucky, Steve, and Sam were not looking at each other either. They were clearly avoiding each other for some reason and you thought back to Tony's admitted statement. Perhaps Sam hadn't known and they had fought.

The others were silent, respecting the others. Clint's eyes kept flickering around the table as though he wanted to say something. Natasha had already left the room to lay down. Wanda, Vision, Pietro, and Rhodey made small comments to each other at the far end of the table. Tony, Bruce, and Stephen weren't there. Nor were Thor, Loki, and Hogun.

You wanted to broach a conversation, but you didn't dare say anything until it was only you and Elizabeth left.

"What. . . what happened last night? I mean after we all left the movie room." You asked awkwardly.

Elizabeth paused from where she was loading the sink up with hot soapy water. "Oh. Bucky came to talk to me. About why he and Steve were avoiding me."

"Because of my nightmares?" You asked quietly.

"You knew?" Elizabeth's voice cracked.

"Tony told me last night." You explained and then winced. You had probably just put Tony in a lot of trouble.

"How many of them knew?" Elizabeth asked and you knew you were right. She was very close to tears.

"Stephen seemed surprised if that helps." You murmured. "And Sam suspects that Tony more guessed than actually knew for sure."

Elizabeth sniffed, but you couldn't see her face so you had no idea if she was crying yet or not.

"So. . . what did Bucky say?" You pushed.

"That he wanted to be soulmates but that he couldn't as long as he was in love with Steve." Elizabeth said. She had to pause between words, which meant she was hiding the fact that she was crying.

"Elizabeth I'm sorry." You said softly. "I never meant-"

"I know." Elizabeth snapped.

You bit your tongue and looked back down at your coffee. You wanted to get more out of Elizabeth, but you had no idea what questions to ask. And then you thought of a brilliant plan.

You would goad her.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

BUCKY WALKED IN ON STEVE, WHO WAS sitting on the bed, his chin resting in his hand. He looked extremely upset and Bucky let most of his anger go. "Steve? You alright?"

"No." Steve answered without looking at him. "I fucked up."

"Language." Bucky said lightly.

Steve afforded him a short smile and then he pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "Why am I like this?"

Bucky didn't answer, sitting in a chair near the bed, waiting for Steve.

Steve finally looked at him. "You know. I always swore that I'd never hurt a single soulmate of mine. So when I thought Y/N was scared of Elizabeth, I was upset. I knew that by protecting Y/N- or thinking was protecting Y/N- I had to hurt Elizabeth. And once I met Elizabeth, I hated it even more. Why? Why didn't I just talk to the both of them Buck? Why did I have to be so stupid?"

Bucky sighed. "You get blindsided when you try and protect those that you love."

"I'm supposed to be the kind one." Steve murmured. "The one that doesn't make judgements until after I get to know a person. I was so scared that Elizabeth was putting on a façade and Y/N's nightmares didn't fade and I've made everything worse because I let you stay out of the relationship too. And I knew you liked Elizabeth."

Bucky was silent, thinking of how tightly Elizabeth's fingers grasped his shirt as she cried herself to sleep. How all she wanted was love. His love. Their love. But he couldn't blame Steve.

"Buck." Steve's voice cracked, "Back when we were soulmates, I loved you. I tried to act like I didn't. I was so scared. You still had that playboy act and I thought you'd break my heart. So I thought if I was aloof first, then I couldn't get hurt. But instead, I hurt you. Why am I such a fucking loser?"

Bucky got up, wrapping his arms around Steve as he started to cry. "I've ruined everything Buck. I've even ruined the relationship with Sam! Why are you still here?"

Bucky kissed Steve's tears away. "Because I love you Stevie. I've only ever needed you. I can live without the others, but I can't live without you."

Steve choked back a sob, burying his head into Bucky's shoulder. Once he recovered, Steve breathed out. "I liked her, you know? Elizabeth, I mean. She was the ideal doll, as though she was plucked from our time period. Not that I don't love Y/N-"

"I know." Bucky said softly.

Steve wiped his eyes. "I overheard what you and Elizabeth said. She'd accept you, you know. If you went back to her. You'd have to work for it a little, but since it was my fault anyways, she'll be more lenient to you. I know you want her and she wants you and I can fix a little of what I broke. And it'll put Sam back in good spirits with you."

"But then you'll be unhappy." Bucky said softly, cupping Steve's jaw.

"As long as you're happy, I'm happy." Steve whispered, leaning his forehead against Bucky's. "Please? At least try with her. I want to see you all happy."

"Even if you're unhappy?" Bucky asked softly. "That doesn't seem fair."

"Life isn't fair. It means everyone gets what they need. You need her. She needs you. It's a win-win." Steve said softly.

They were both silent for a while, holding each other in their arms. Both of them needed the comfort.

And then suddenly, screaming echoed from downstairs.

⬅️➡️

[justaboymadeofhoneyandglass]

hey!!

so, i was just curious. um. this may sound dumb. but. how did u know u have synesthesia? do u get synesthesia only when u hear things? i'm just curious. not to come off as ignorant tho.

also: are u an artist?

one more thing: which is ur fav view, like with synesthesia?

also: this is stupid: were u born with it?

um also: what do u see when u hear ur name?

also: is ur condition annoying to u? does it create hurdles in ur day-to-day activities?? like when u study, can't u listen to music cuz u see shapes and stuff? which distracts u?

um one last thing: ur follower event looks really different from everyone else's i've seen, looks real cool. um kudos to that i guess.

um thanks for answering! (if u choose not to, it's fine, these are ridiculous questions even i know)

Hii! Dw about asking so many questions I love talking about my synesthesia, and you're not coming off as ignorant, it's not smth that a lot of ppl know a lot about so dw

My main clue was when I started telling people what colour they were to me and they went what the fuck do you mean by that and I juts thought oh so that's not a thing for everybody? Cool I guess. that was about two years ago and since than I've figured out so so so much stuff about this haha

Yup i would say I am, im not the best at realistic drawing but my brain has too many ideas to not do some off them, I usually draw very abstract because that's how my synesthesia works, but I also sometimes do scenery mixed with it because my brain is rlly rlly associative, like it associates everything with everything so that's what I draw hehe

I'm also a poet and a writer, although the only stories I actually write nowadays are fanfictions 😅, I do write a lot of poetry still, mostly to deal with life or express my love for things or ppl *cough* @aesthetic-writer18 *cough*

My fav view? Bit confused by the question haha /lh if this means like favourite colour associated with smth I could not decide for the life of me haha

I really like the colours of some songs,

This one the most rn I think!

Yup I was born with it! It's a neurodiversity, so you can't have it and not be born with it. some people think they have synesthesia because they have like 5 or 6 associations, there's not rlly a rule for how much it needs to be but I think those ppl are bullshit, cus most ppl have some sorts of taught associations that are not synesthesia lol

my name for me is kinda light brown with yellow and red! Well my chosen name is, my deadname is light pink with red in it lol

I usually don't rlly associate a lot of stuff with myself or things about myself but the name James I took form James potter so that influences how I see it lol

Hmm, I wouldn't say it annoys me, but it does create some difficulties:

Some people I dislike don't have colours at all, or they have a rlly annoying or ugly colour, I know a girl whose voice is the most skin crawling shade of purple ish red it's so fucking annoying I can't stand to be around her

the music thing does happen, I usually try to listen to music that doesn't trigger my synesthesia a lot (which limits the possibilities a lot) and also doesn't trigger my maladaptive daydreaming but that's a whole other thing

One thing about my synesthesia is that when I think too much about it or concentrate on the associations too much I get a rlly bad headache which sucks lol

Thanks a lot! It's largely based on my synesthesia hehe I rlly like it!!

Thanks for the askkk!

[lala1267]

Chocolate and Vanilla (Part 1)

Warnings: racism (it's set in the 50s/60s), physical abuse, mentions of racial slurs (I'm black dw), swearing , loneliness, bullying, drinking, smoking

Summary: you were born in Jamaica and moved to the US at a young age. The only white families on your street where the Presley family and the Jean family. You went clubbing with your freind and bumped into a rising star, do you know him?

I was born in Jamaica as a mixed race girl with big curly hair and tanned skin. In Jamaica there was no white people, only black people. Even though I was tanned and had curly hair I still stood out since I had a white father. I had never met the man and I hope I don't because from what I heard he just fucked my mother just to try a chocolate girl. Well he did get a try but he also had a child that he didn't know about. All through my childhood I was either picked on or ignored even by my mother. She couldn't stand to look at me since I was lighter, she would be embarrassed to bring me to the beach since I was the only child that looked white and everybody else was black. But even though I was lonely I was still happy. I snook out of the house early in the morning just to go to the beach and play in the marine water. I would walk around with my curly hair out without a care in the world. I learnt to ignore all of the looks that I would get and just be happy. I lived in a poor area with shacks and huts for houses.

My mother had a drinking problem and a smoking addiction. Whenever she was stressed or mad at me, she would drink and smoke. This meant that she was drinking and smoking every day. Whenever she was drunk, it was like hell. She would scream and shout and break things and sometimes even hit me, but everyone thought I was just being a naughty little girl even though it was the complete opposite. I was never rude or mean to anyone, even if I wanted to be since my mother would probably kill me. I was incapable of standing up for myself, I was quiet and introverted since I had no one to talk to anyway. A group of girls would throw rocks at me while I walked down to the beach. The boys would walk past me just to 'accidentally' push me over. All because I was lighter.

All of this hell ended on the day that I found out I was going to live in America, at least I thought. My mother woke me up from the half broken bed that I was in with a cigarette in her mouth. "Get up we are leaving" she said in a unbothered tone. I looked at her confused for a moment before replying, "huh, where are we going mamma?". She looked at me with frown. "America". My face lit up as a wide smile appeared on my face. But then I was confused as to why we were going, why are we going to a complete different country, why?. "But mamma, why?"

"Well, a lot of people want me dead since I had a baby with a white man so they are trying to find me. Hurry we don't have much time, we gotta get walking."

I quickly packed my things and the both of us began to walk. It took around an hour or so to walk since I lived in the coast. As i reached the city and was approaching the airport i was in shock since i had never seen such bright lights and cars. I got to the airport and all i could think of is how excited i was. A million thoughts rushed through my head before i stepped onto the runway to the plane.

I was nine years old when i arrived in America. It was much colder. I lived in a poor neighbourhood but i didn't know that since i had never seen a rich neighbourhood. It was mostly a black neighbourhood but there was 2 white families one of them being the Presley family. There was a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes that always used to play on the street with other kids his name was Elvis.

I never even wanted to talk to him since i arrived because i had quickly learnt that the white people weren't so welcoming. I had been ridiculed and called a number of slurs. I didn't understand why i was being made fun of, in Jamaica it was because I was to white now its because I was to dark, can't people just make up their minds. I had always assumed that Elvis was a racist too since I had never met a white person that wasn't.

Years flew by and I was now the ripe age of 15. My hair was long and had perfect brown curls. My skin was tanned and shined in the sunlight, I was wearing a crop top and some short denim shorts. Everyone including most blacks thought I had no class since I had never worn a dress, this was because I was to poor to afford a decent one and I was raised running around half naked without a care in the world.

I had made one friend called Lana Jean, she was the polar opposite of me, she was white for starters. She knew how to stick up for herself and she wasn't afraid to fight anyone. If she didn't like you she would make it clear, no man ever dared to tell her what to do cause she would just respond with a fist. She was very strong for a woman but dressed elegantly if needed. But normally she would walk around in shorts and a crop top like me. The only things we had in common was that we had no class we weren't ladylike. We ate how we wanted, we sat how we wanted and we were inseparable. She was like a guardian to me since I didn't know how to stand up for myself, she would shout for me, fight for me and would probably kill for me.

Me and Lana always went clubbing since my mother was busy drinking and her mother just didn't care. We always went out and had a good time. I would just ignore all of the stares from the white people as I passed the 'whites only' signs. But to be honest I would stare aswell if I saw a dark skinned, tall girl with curls running down from her head to her butt walk past. We went to our usual club called club handy, I felt safe since there was only black people there, they treated lana like family since we would come here every night after work. We were dancing together when we heard a lot of screams coming from outside, they sounded like excited cheers. Then suddenly the doors to the club burst open. I tried to go on my tiptoes to attempt to see over the crowd but before realising I was pushed to the floor along with lana by atleat 5 girls running towards the door. Lana was ready to fight until we got up and saw a tall man with het black hair and was very handsome, who could this be.

To be continued...