#first stupid idiot blonde boy of my heart

[sharonisthebettercarter]

bruh, the faces billy made when him and homie met i--

casual surprise and then--what the fuck is that face???

MY DEAR BOI, WHY DO YOU LOOK SO THREATENED BY THE MERE PRESENCE OF THIS MAN YOU JUST MET HIM I--

i mean i get it, he's hot butt~

and now he's lulled you into a false sense of security with his charm and "good" nature... oh dear. billy bean, you sad, stupid, pathetic little kitten<3

[spencerrscardigans]

𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: “one day, i will stop falling in love with you / some day, someone will like me like i like you / until then, i’ll drink my coffee, eat my pie”

includes: best friends to lovers, no use of y/n, you work at family video with steve and robin, idiots to lovers, pining, angst, reader is emotional, emetophobia warning (2 mentions but no actual), fluff, robin buckley is a meddler, song inspired fic but i added a happy ending

a/n: this is the first ever oneshot that I have actually finished and am posting! yay me! I also totally didn't write this instead of doing my bio homework. this is barely edited and probably horrible but give me some grace because this is my first time writing one of these

word count: 5000

⊹₊⟡⋆

You were sure that the coffee and cherrie pie from the bakery down the street was the sole reason for getting you through your shifts at family video.

Sure, it helped that you shared most of your shifts with your two best friends, Steve and Robin, but the fact that you were hopelessly in love with one of said best friends seemed to get in the way of enjoying your shifts with them.

Robin helped make it more tolerable, however her looks of pity sent your way whenever a pretty girl came in to flirt with Steve just made it blatantly obvious how pathetic your feelings for him were.

Being one of Steve’s best friends also meant that you had to listen to every nauseating detail of his conquests with these women, making your inadequacy feel even stronger.

The bell on the door chimed, signalling that a customer had entered the store, and looking over you saw a pretty blonde around your age walk in.

You don’t bother to get up, knowing that Steve will be there to greet her before you can even stand up.

As predicted, Steve jumps up, stumbling over his feet to greet the girl. You sigh, and reach into your paper bag to grab your boxed slice of cherry pie which frankly has turned into a comfort food for situations like this.

Seemingly moving on their own accord, your eyes look up to see Steve leaning on the counter with a sly smile on his face, and you know that your feelings for him were futile.

“You know that Steve’s just an idiot, right? He has feelings for you, he’s just too blind to see what’s right in front of him.” Robin says once Steve is out of earshot.

“Or,” you start, dragging the word out, “there’s nothing for him to see. He doesn’t care like i do, he doesn’t like me like i like him. It’s okay, i’ve made my peace with it.”

Robin glances over her shoulder once more, and when she’s sure that Steve is distracted she grabs your shoulders, “he likes you!” she exclaims.

“He’s just too stupid to realize. Just tell him how you feel! I know society thinks that’s men’s job but frankly I think that’s sexist, and Steve’s too stupid to do it himself. All this pining would be over if you’d just tell him how you feel!” she says while shaking your shoulders to emphasize her point

“Rob, it’s never going to happen.” you shake your head at her.

Before Robin can argue back, the topic of your conversation starts walking towards you both, grinning while waving his hand in the air, and you make out messy numbers scribbled with ink on his skin.

The second Steve opens his mouth, you figure it would be in your best interest to tune it out, and you turn back to your pie as if it’s suddenly the most enticing thing in the room.

You let yourself enjoy your pie, and for a minute, let yourself pretend that you and Steve are more than friends, and that the sick feeling coursing through you is simply because of the coffee and pie and not heartbreak.

The bell chimes, indicating a customer has entered the store, and this time it’s your turn to jump up.

“I’ve got this one” you say, glad you have an excuse to get away from the conversation.

You hurriedly walk up to the counter, and you see a boy, about your age, scanning his eyes around the store.

“You need help finding anything?” You ask, mustering up a friendly smile.

“I’m lookin’ for something scary. Do you have Poltergeist? Or anything similar.” He asks.

“Over there,” you say pointing. “Do you want me to get it for you?” you ask.

“I think i’ve got it from here,” he says with a smile, glancing down at your name tag and reading it aloud.

You watch as he retreats, before finally stopping to scan through the movies. After a few seconds he reaches up, plucks the movie off the shelf and is making his way back up to the counter.

“Have you found everything you’re looking for?” You ask in your trained customer service voice.

He nods, before asking “So, have you seen this one? Is it any good?”

You respond, and soon enough find yourself too distracted by the conversation with the boy to notice the very familiar interaction that you had just previously had going on between your coworkers.

“You’re jealous!” Robin gasps.

“Shhhh!” Steve says, covering her mouth with his hand. “Shut up!”

“Ew,” Robin says, shoving his hand off her “You didn’t deny it!” She sing songs.

“I’m not jealous, i just think it’s inappropriate for customers to be flirting with the employees” He says defensively, eyeing the way the boys eyes light up with interest at whatever you’re saying, leaning over the counter slightly.

His comment receives a deadpanned look from Robin, “Dude, look at your hand. You literally were just bragging about how you scored that ‘totally hot girl’s’ number.”

Steve opens his mouth, ready to defend himself, but after failing to come up with something to say, he closes his mouth in defeat.

He lets out an exasperated sigh, “Okay, fuck, maybe I am.”

“Hah! I knew it.” Robin says smugly. “So,” she says, dragging out the ‘o’ “When are you gonna do something about it?”

“I can’t-“ he starts “I don’t know!” he exclaims.

“Let me guess,” she starts. “You’re going to call that girl tonight like an idiot and pretend like you’re not totally in love with someone else?”

“It’s been working so far.” he shrugs, and robin squints her eyes at him.

“Is it though? Is it?” she accuses, and Steve suddenly feels small under her stare.

“Just tell her, you dingus!” Too distracted, neither Steve or Robin notice that you’re back until your voice breaks them out of their argument.

“Tell who what?” you ask, and Steve and Robin both look at each other nervously, leaving you confused.

“She, uh, was giving me pointers for when I ask that hot blonde out.” Steve says, and you shudder.

“You’re such a boy.” You motion with your hand for Steve to move off the stool you were previously sitting on, and when he complies, you sit back down and take a sip of your coffee.

You make a face at the change of temperature of your coffee, and Steve laughs. “Gone cold?” he muses.

You shut him up with a glare, and the three of you go back into a comfortable silence as you stare at the clock, waiting for your shift to end.

After what feels like an eternity, the three of you start closing the store once your shift ends, and you plop down into the drivers seat of your car with a groan.

You start driving, and you hope that the soft music and pretty sunset is enough to bring you out of your spiral of thoughts, but when a familiar song comes on, a song that Steve showed you, you start to think that you’re cursed.

The song brings you back to the moment where you were sitting in the passenger seat of Steve’s beemer, your legs up on the dashboard despite Steve’s scolding that it’s ‘dangerous’, to which you would reply ‘whatever, mom”.

The sun was setting in the sky, similar to how it is now, you and Steve taking turns sharing music after arguing over what to listen to, Steve claiming that he had the better music taste, to which you would argue back that yours is better. After going back and forth, you ended up with a compromise of taking turns picking the music.

You remember that night vividly, because that was the night you caught the first glimmer of hope that maybe he liked you like you liked him. It was also the night where that hope was crushed just as quickly as it came.

You had caught him staring, but too distressed at what that could possibly mean you pretended you didn’t notice. You spent the rest of the night going over and over in your head of what that look possibly could have meant, driving yourself crazy to the point where Steve noticed that there was something wrong.

Steve stopped, mid sentence when he noticed that far away, troubled look in your eyes once again.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, seemingly bringing you out of your daze.

“Hm?”

“I said, what’s going on in that head of yours? I don’t think you’ve registered a single word of that story I was just telling you.” he says, with a slight laugh.

“Feels like i’m talking to a wall.” he teases, however you catch the glint of worry.

For a minute, you thought about telling him. You thought about spilling every thought that had been plaguing your mind since you realized that you were in love with him a few weeks back. You wanted to tell him you loved him. That you were in love with him.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words seem to catch in your throat, and tears start streaming down your face instead.

Not to sound dramatic, but Steve thought he could feel his heart breaking in his chest watching you, his best friend, breaking down beside him in his car. He wished he could wave a magic wand and take away all your hurt. Hell, he would even take all the hurt on himself if it meant he got to see you smile.

“What’s going on?” he asked you, “You know you’re my best friend, you can tell me anything.”

Steve hoped his words would reassure you, but instead you just sobbed harder.

You shook your head, and Steve figured that was you saying you didn’t want to talk about it, and he was right, partially, he just didn’t realize that it wasn’t just you not wanting to talk about it. He didn’t realize that the real reason you were shaking your head was because you didn’t want to be his best friend. You loved him, but not how best friends typically loved each other. You were in love with him.

You realized then, that that was all you would be. His best friend. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship, and you knew that if you told him how you felt, you definitely would, so you decided that it would be in everyone’s best interest to never let him find out.

Little did you know, those same fears swirled around in your best friend’s head as well.

“M’sorry, I promise I don’t mean to cry.” you tell him. “I’m just, i’m overwhelmed and confused.”

Steve caught the look that you were giving him, your pleading eyes begging him to not ask you what you were overwhelmed and confused by. As badly as he wanted to ask, he remembered all the times that you were there for him no questions asked, and he knew that as your best friend, that he owed you the same respect.

He settled with holding you in his arms while you cried into his chest. He whispered soft, reassuring words, not knowing that he was the reason you needed them.

Later that week, you’re sat by the counter, once again eating your pie, wondering whether your shift could go by any slower.

This time, it was just you and Steve sharing your shift, and at first it made you nervous knowing that Robin wouldn’t be there and you’d be left alone with Steve and your feelings for him, but it had been surprisingly going pretty well.

You noticed that Steve seemed tense as well, but after him brushing your questioning eye off, you decided not to bother him about it.

“What did that pie do to you?” Steve teases, noting the way you are stabbing your fork into the pie as if you have some vendetta against it.

“I’m bored.” you groan, dragging the word out. “I miss Robin.”

Steve brings his hand up to his chest, acting as though he was wounded. “Am I not enough for you?"

When you bark out a laugh, the corner of his lips twitch up into a smile as he gazes at you with a fond look that makes you feel like you’re about to vomit. Not out of disgust, but from the overwhelming feelings that he makes you feel. Vomiting is about the most accurate way to describe how it makes you feel, and you try not to imagine the look you’d receive from Robin if she heard that.

The door chimes, and with Steve being closer, he gets up to greet the customer. Just as he’s getting ready to ask how he can help, he pauses when he realizes that it’s the same guy who was in the store flirting with you the other day.

He clenches his jaw, remembering yours and Robins scolding that he needed to be better with his customer service, and grits out “Welcome to Family Video, how can I help?”

Just to Steve’s surprise, more like disappointment, the customer tells him that he was actually hoping to speak to you.

Hearing your name, you look up and smile when you see Matt, the customer from the other day. You get up and walk towards them, turning to Steve to tell him that you’ve got it from here. He begrudgingly leaves, but still stays in earshot.

“I’m just here to return this.” Matt says, setting the movie on the desk. You pick it up, and begin scanning it and clicking buttons on the computer.

“How’d you like it? You owe me that review you promised.”

“Well, i’ve actually spent the past couple days trying to think of the best way to tell you my thoughts, and I thought maybe we could discuss it over coffee?” he says, eyes hopeful.

You’re taken aback for a minute, struggling to remember the last time someone asked you out, and then wondering whether he meant as a date, or just as friends, but before you can think of something to say, Matt speaks again.

“I hope i’m not coming on to foreword or reading this wrong, I just think that you’re gorgeous and would love to take you on a date.” he sends you a shy smile.

“I, yeah, i’d like that.” you manage to sputter out, sharing Matt’s same shy smile. “I’m off tomorrow, but I work the rest of the week.” you tell him.

“How about noon? We could go to the cafe down the street if you’d like. Or anywhere else.”

“The cafe works. I’ll see you then.” You tell him, feeling giddy as a smile graces your face as you finish running through his return. Matt matches your smile, and waves before making his way out of the store.

You watch as he walks out the door and out of eyesight, and do a little happy dance, ignoring the fact that Steve is going to definitely make fun of you.

For a minute, the hopeless feeling that had settled over you because of Steve’s unshared feelings is forgotten, and you think that maybe won’t be as hard to get over him as you thought. Maybe you will find someone who likes you how you like Steve, and you’ll be able to stop falling for him.

“I thought you didn’t go on dates.” Steve says once you turn around, and the smile quickly falling off your face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seeing the hurt look on your face, Steve quickly clarifies.

“You just always say that you’re more content staying single. That dating just causes unnecessary stress that you don’t have to have when you’re single.”

“I don’t know, I just changed my mind I guess.” you say, and Steve raises an eyebrow at you.

“What made you change your mind?” he questions.

“Why does it have to matter?” you say. “It just felt nice to have someone be interested in me.”

Steve accepts your answer, and you both continue to work in silence. You wonder why Steve doesn’t seem as happy for you as you expected, and it sends a pang through your chest.

The next day comes around fast, and after spending about an hour debating what to wear, noon finally comes around and you nervously step foot inside the cafe, despite the amount of times you’ve been here.

You glance around, and you spot Matt already sitting down at a table. You shyly walk over to him, suddenly uncomfortably aware of everything you do.

After the initial nervousness settles down and you both have ordered, conversation starts flowing easily, and you find that you and Matt have a lot more in common than you originally expected.

You feel comfortable around him, and after learning more and more about each other, you find yourselves talking to each other like you’ve known each other for years.

You like Matt, you really do, but despite how much you like him and how well you guys are getting on, a nagging feeling won’t leave you alone.

You know it’s wrong, but as you tell Matt about yourself, you can’t help but think about Steve, and how he already knows all this about you. Honestly, you think Steve knows more about you than you do.

Internally, you start connecting everything to Steve, and this realization suddenly starts making you feel both guilty and uncomfortable.

As the date starts to wrap itself up, you realize you need to be honest with him. Getting over Steve is apparent to be way more difficult than you anticipated, and you know it’s unfair to string Matt along when your heart is elsewhere.

You decide to just be upfront with him, telling him exactly as such, and Matt’s reaction is the exact opposite to what you expected.

He doesn’t seem upset, he just simply looks at you with understanding, and if anything, it makes you feel even more guilty.

“It’s okay, i’m just glad you were able to realize this and be upfront with me now. The heart wants what it wants, and I can’t blame you for that.” he tells you.

“I just feel so bad, I really thought i’d be able to do this, and I do really like you, but I just can’t.” you sigh, feeling disappointed in yourself.

“It’s that coworker of yours, right?” he asks, leaving you shocked.

“How did-“ you start to say, looking at him with bewilderment.

“I noticed how he looked at you when I came by the store, both times, I thought there might be something there but was just hoping I was wrong.” he tells you, and it just leaves you more confused.

He doesn’t look at you in any way, does he? Seemingly noticing your distress at this new information, Matt continues on.

“He looked like he was ready to have me banned from the store,” he says with a laugh. “it’s clear as day that he has feelings for you, and you feel the same way, so just tell him.” you continue looking at him with bewilderment, but this time for a different reason.

“This was not the direction I was expecting this to go in.” You say with a breathy laugh.

“I know, believe me,” he says with a laugh, “I know this is definitely not how either of us expected this to end up, but I still would like to at least be your friend. How does that sound to you?”

“I would like to be your friend as well, I meant what I said, I do really like you, I just feel really bad about this whole situation.” you tell him nervously.

“Don’t, I meant what I said as well, the heart wants what it wants. So, friends?” he says, offering you his hand for a handshake, and you laugh. You take his hand, and shake it.

“Friends sounds good.” you say with a smile.

“Now that we’re friends, i’m telling you this as a friend, tell him how you feel.” he says sternly.

“God, you sound like Robin. Don’t make me regret agreeing to be friends.” you say lightheartedly.

You both say your goodbyes, telling him that now that he has friend privileges you can snag him any good movies coming in that he requests, and he promises to stop by the store sometime soon.

Driving home, you start to feel a sense of clarity come over you. You think that maybe telling Steve isn’t a bad idea, Matt only saw Steve twice and could say with confidence that Steve had feelings for you, maybe he was right?

But what if he was wrong? What if Matt was wrong and you make a fool out of yourself and ruin your friendship?

You realize that your friendship would be ruined either way, because thinking about it, you don’t know if you have it in you anymore to keep having your heart broken. You either tell him, and risk him not feeling the same way and ruining your friendship, or not telling him and end up definitely ruining your friendship because you can’t handle just being his friend.

If you’re going to lose him either way, you figure you might as well just tell him. Now you really feel like you’re going to throw up.

The next day, you work the closing shift with once again just Steve, and the entire time leading up to it all you feel is dread. You even consider calling in sick and asking Robin to cover for you, but you push through it and find yourself walking through the staff doors, getting ready to start your shift.

You and Steve start working as you usually would, closing shift on Thursday's always being quiet, him making his regular comments and you once again sitting on your stool drinking your coffee and eating your pie.

Despite Steve being your best friend and you both having worked together without Robin many times, you both feel the uncomfortable shift in the air.

“How’d your, uh, date go?” Steve asks, internally cursing himself out.

“It went good.” you say, sounding unsure. Steve raises an eyebrow at you in question, and you clarify.

“It went good,” you say, sounding more sure of yourself. “We had a surprising amount of things in common, and the conversation came really easily. Honestly for a moment it felt like we had known each other for years.” you tell him with a smile on your face as you think back at yesterday.

“Oh, that’s- that’s good. You’ll probably be going out with him again?” Steve asks, and it may be you going crazy, or did he sound disappointed? Is it bad that that makes you feel happy?

“Yeah, we will, I think. Not on another date, though.” you tell him, paying close attention to how Steve reacts. When he keeps a calm composure, just looking confused, you think that maybe you were just crazy.

“We decided that we’d be better as friends.” you clarify.

“Oh, how come? You seem to really like him.” he asks, and you think that this might be your opportunity to tell him how you feel. You pause for a minute, trying to think of the best way to word what you are going to say next.

“I realized that my hearts," you pause, "elsewhere? I do really like him but I didn’t think it would be fair to string him along if I wasn’t fully in it.” you tell him carefully.

“Elsewhere? Like you have feelings for someone?” you nod.

“Why’d you agree to go out with him if you have feelings for someone else?”

“I don’t know, he seemed like a really good guy and I thought maybe i’d be able to get over my feelings but I was wrong.” you tell him, shamefully.

“It was nice having someone be interested in me." you begin to explain, "I figured since the person that I want to be won’t ever be interested in me, maybe it was time to move on. And it felt nice. Being in love with someone who only sees you as a friend sucks and for a minute I was able to forget about it. I don’t want to keep letting him break my heart again.” you explain.

Steve doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you as if you’re some difficult math question, and you feel yourself shrinking under his gaze.

“Who are you in love with?” he finally asks.

You open your mouth to respond, and once again, just like the time you were sat beside him in his car, you're unable to get any words out, and a tear slowly falls down your cheek instead.

You went over this conversation many times in your head, preparing how you were going to tell him, but now that it was happening, it all went right out the window.

Steve steps closer to you, and wipes the tear from your cheek, and the action makes you want to cry harder but you force yourself to keep your composure. You tell yourself all you have to do is get this over with, and then you can cry as much as you want.

“How do you know that he isn’t in love with you too? What makes you so certain?” Steve asks, figuring his first question was too difficult for you to answer.

“He flirts with other girls all the time. And I get friend zoned practically on a daily basis.” You manage to mumble.

“How do you know he isn’t doing what you were trying to do by going on that date? What if he thinks that you don’t like him back, and that’s why he does that?” Steve asks, and you wonder whether there’s more to what he’s asking. You chalk it up to him just wanting to make you feel better, and sigh.

“I don’t know whether this is just Robin getting to my head, but is the guy me?” Steve finally asks.

Your silence is enough of an answer, but then you finally nod your head in confirmation. “It’s okay though, one day I will stop falling in love with you and we can pretend this never happened, some day I’ll find someone who likes me like I like you and we can go back to normal.”

You honestly think at this point you’re more trying to reassure yourself than you are Steve. You reason that he’s the one who made you fall in love with him, so you’re allowed to try to reassure yourself.

“What if I don’t want you to?” he says, and your eyes go wide, thinking that he has to be messing with you.

“What if I don’t want you to stop falling in love with me? What if I don’t want to pretend like this never happened? What if I don’t want you to find someone else? Because you won’t need to, because I do like you like you like me.” he continues, and you shake your head, not believing him.

“Look at me.” he commands softly. Instead of doing what he asks, you stubbornly close your eyes and face your head down, scared to look at him. Scared that if you look at him you’ll see that he was joking and you’ll be stuck feeling humiliated.

Steve gently brings his hand under your chin and lifts it up so your head is facing him, but you refuse to open your eyes. When you hear him let out a little laugh, you feel glad that you didn’t look, fearing the worst.

“Hey, look at me, please.” he says, and his begging tone is what makes you finally peak your eyes open.

Steve’s close, closer than you realized, and his eyes are looking right into yours, and you don’t see any mocking or teasing looks in his eyes like you expected.

His eyes leave yours, slowly traveling down to your lips. “I can prove it to you if you don’t believe me.”

He looks back up at you, silently asking for permission, and all you’re able to say is a breathless “okay.”

He grins, and slowly leans in, allowing you time to change your mind, and when you don’t, he finally presses his lips against yours.

Your eyes flutter closed, and his hand that was under your chin comes up to softly cup your jaw, and suddenly all you feel is him.

At this point, the tears that you had trying so hard to hold in finally stream down your face, however this time for an entirely different reason. All the love that you had been suppressing down was finally released, the emotion pouring out of you as you kissed.

Steve pulls away, noticing your tears, and his eyes widen in a panic. When you respond with a laugh, he calms down and wipes your tears.

“I knew it,” he starts. “you do taste like coffee and pie.”

You’re both grinning, and he leans down and kisses you again. If you thought the first kiss was a lot, this one nearly knocks you off your feet with the force of passion that he kisses you with.

His hands move down to your waist, pulling you even closer and you let out a squeak of surprise. Your hands move on their own accord to grip at his collar, and the groan he lets out is nearly enough to make you faint.

This time you’re the one to pull away, feeling like you’re about to run out of air, and you both are left flushed and breathing heavily.

The bell on the door chimes, bringing you both out of your daze. Steve sighs and sets off to greet the customer, with a promise that this will be continued later, both of you with a giddy feeling you didn’t have at the start of your shift.

[noearchives]

seeing you cry for the first time + one piece boys

pairings: portgas d. ace x gn!reader, trafalgar law x gn!reader

a.n.: my first post ever!! have a little comfort drabble for my two favourite boys. part two will be for mister roronoa & our favourite blonde cook <3

cw: none really... reader has a tendency to hide when they cry :(

portgas d. ace

when ace finally finds you in the crow’s nest of the moby dick after half a day of searching for you, he lets out a tiny “oh!” and a chuckle.

his smile doesn't stay on his lips for long, however.

when he sees the tremble of your shoulders and the quiet sniffle from your nose, his heart drops to his stomach.

“hey, what’s wrong? don't cry, now… don't cry, okay?”

it’s stupid of you to try and hide from him. even if you’d gone to the deadliest of seas, ace would still find you, so he’s bound to find out about your tears anyways.

his first instinct was to hug you- when ace was little, his brother always clung to him when he was upset, so surely it would make you feel better too if he did the same to you, right?

he’s so, so warm. his skin’s a little sticky against yours, and the ruby beads hanging on his neck are pressing into your bones, but it doesn't matter. you can feel his hand at the back of your head, petting you like you would a cat.

he doesn't push you about why you're crying, nor does he pressure you about the fact that you're hiding from him.

the two of you stay like that for a long while.

“does this make you feel better?” he asks.

you nod.

“do you want to let go?”

you shake your head.

so you stay in his arms until you stop sobbing, letting yourself relax in ace's warmth.

.

trafalgar d. water law

law might come off as apathetic, and yes, he might give less than two shits about certain things, but when it comes to you, he can't help but pay a little more attention than usual.

he’s a silent observer. he’s noticed how you’ve become quieter than usual during meal time, avoiding the crew and him. he knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out why.

so when he sees you curled up in your room, face buried in your pillow that’s been dampened by your tears, he just sighs and sits on the edge of your bed.

“you idiot.”

law flips you over, so you cover your puffy eyes with your palms. he removes them from your face and sighs again, pressing his thumbs lightly on your swollen undereyes.

“use a cold compress later, got it?”

you don't even nod. you stare at the ceiling despite the light shining directly in your eyes, and you sniffle to stop the snot in your nose from running. law physically winces and pulls a tissue from your bedside table.

god, it’s like taking care of a child. but law bears with it anyways, holding the tissue over your nose with furrowed brows.

“don’t be gross. blow your nose.”

your blank expression drives him insane. he doesn't even know how to handle his own emotions, so could he know how to deal with another person’s?

(but for you, he’ll try.)

for now, he’ll hold your hand and help you blow your nose, listening to you talk and talk until you fall asleep.

[bbydoll18xx]

An Inch Away From More Than Just Friends

Paige Bueckers x reader

Your ex-boyfriend is quite literally the smallest man who ever lived, and Paige is there to pick up the pieces

Themes: Heavy smut, angst, happy ending <3, friends to lovers

Word count: 3k

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“And you deserve prison, BUT. YOU. WON’T. GET. TIME!” you scream-sing, each word punctuated with a hand slapping the table loudly. Tears fall down your face and you let out a ragged breath, attempting to quell your rage and anguish.

Your stupid ass, idiot of a boyfriend, Connor, had cheated on you with some tramp from Florida, of all places. And he had subsequently dumped you over text, attaching a picture of the girl sucking his cock.

You wanted to murder him. Slowly. With a knife. 

Here you sat, though, after the shock of that text message wore off, sobbing at your kitchen table to Taylor Swift. Your life felt like a terrible sitcom. 

He was your first boyfriend. You didn't really date much in high school. The boys were immature and gross, and the girls were too intimidating to approach in a flirty way. You just wanted to feel wanted, sick of constantly being the third wheel with your friends.

Despite getting broken up with out of the blue, you knew why Connor had done it. It was the reason for your countless arguments you had suffered through the last year.

Paige Bueckers.

Paige was your best friend, and Connor had absolutely loathed her from the moment you had introduced the two blondes. 

Your boyfriend had always been slightly possessive; it was one of the things that had initially attracted you to him. You had always craved an intense and all consuming love, and at first, you had thought you'd gotten that. But fate was tempted as you and Paige grew closer.

As the song you’ve had on repeat restarts for the hundredth time, you recall your last argument. It wasn’t difficult considering it happened just a few days ago. 

You and Paige were hanging out in your apartment like you did frequently. Laying side by side on your bed, a movie played on the TV, sending flickering lights through the dark room. You were both exhausted from the week, but each other’s presence produced a calm energy that washed over all of the stress you had been feeling.

Your legs are tangled up with Paige’s, and your head is nestled in the crook of her neck. The movie is long forgotten, as you relish in the presence of your best friend. She hums in content at your closeness, enjoying your company just as much as you.

You can actually feel your heart cry, realizing that you couldn’t get any closer to the blonde girl. 

You had been having several realizations the last few months: Your fondness for UConn’s favorite star was more than just friendly. Unfortunately, you were pretty sure that Connor had also picked up on this. And if this helpless little crush of yours continued, you’d be in deep shit. 

Contemplating your situation, Paige nudges into you, catching your attention. 

“I can literally hear the wheels in your head turning. Whatcha thinkin’ about, baby?” Paige teases softly.

Baby. 

Your heart flutters, as it always did when she called you little pet names.

You shrug, the movement slightly jostling Paige.

“Just dealing with some stuff,” you mumble, a feeble attempt to minimize what you were feeling. It's not like you could tell her anyway.

Before Paige can goad you into revealing more, the door to your bedroom is ripped open, hitting the wall with a slam and reverberating through the apartment. 

“I fucking knew it!” Connor shouted, pointing at you and Paige. His face was screwed up into an ugly expression of contempt.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Paige yells back, as you simultaneously shout, “Connor you can't just barge in here. That’s so fucking rude.”

“Stay away from my girlfriend, you nasty, little bitch,” Connor sneers meanly. Paige’s eyebrows furrow at this, standing in front of him to look him in the eye.

You try to stifle a laugh as Paige gets in your boyfriend’s face; she was two inches taller than him, and she never let him forget it. 

“I don’t know about ‘little,’” she retorts with a smug expression on her face.

Enraged, Connor spins around, stomping out of the room, kicking your couch on his childish rampage out.

Your breathing is irregular as you try to slow your heart rate. Sobs are already bubbling up inside your chest, threatening to seep through the cracks that Connor had left once more. 

Paige pulls you into her lap, cradling you against her chest in a desperate attempt to comfort you. Little did she know, her touch was all you really needed. 

You are pulled back into the present, feeling empty without Paige. Tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You felt like you were never really present anymore; walking through life in a daydream. Pictures of Paige constantly filled your brain, and you knew the unrequited feelings would be much more painful than the harsh termination of your and Connor’s relationship. 

Fuck. You were down bad. 

You take to your couch with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Those were two guys you knew would never fail you. You allow yourself to rot the day away. Episode after episode plays, but you are barely paying attention. You feel like screaming, the feeling of desperation wrestling with your typical sense of composure. 

Your vision slides over to the top of your fridge, where an impressive amount of alcohol sits.

‘Perfect. I can't pine when I’m black out drunk,’ you think miserably. 

You were so, so wrong. 

An hour later you were dancing around in nothing but one of Paige’s shirts and your underwear, using a large bottle of tequila as a microphone. You were usually a quiet roommate, but the empty apartment was the perfect excuse to let out all the emotions you had been holding in for months. 

You were so engrossed in your performance, you miss Paige walking in. When you finally turn to face her in a dramatic spin, hair flying everywhere, you gasp in shock. 

Paige is grinning. “Havin’ fun, babe?” she questions, clearly amused by your drunken antics.

You were too inebriated to feel embarrassed, and you nod with a bright smile. You thrust the bottle towards the blonde, encouraging her to join in your fun. 

“Oh, what the hell,” Paige concedes, taking the bottle and lifting it up to her mouth in a way that had you suddenly feeling sticky. 

She was sinful when she was drunk. It was not your fault that you wanted the clingy Paige that accompanied large amounts of alcohol. 

You spend the next hour taking turns sipping from the bottle, enjoying the feverish burning in your belly that follows each swallow. It doesn’t take much time for Paige to catch up to you, and you know she’s tipsy once she pulls you into her lap and starts drawing shapes onto your thighs. A quiet moan escapes from your lips at her touch; her fingers were fucking magic. 

You turn to face Paige, straddling her on your couch. The tequila in your system was making you bolder than the blonde was accustomed to you being, but she welcomed it. Now face to face, with nothing but your flimsy panties in between Paige’s muscular leg and your slick center, you gaze at her with heavy lidded eyes.

She was so pretty, and her eye contact made you bashful. Breaking away from the heat of those blue eyes, you wrap your arms around her neck in a huge hug, causing Paige to let out a small chuckle at your affection.

You were nothing if not candor whilst drunk, so Paige is hardly surprised when you slur, “Connor hated how I look at you. That’s why he broke up with me.”

Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Paige murmurs, “How do you look at me?”

“Like you hung the fuckin’ moon,” you sigh dreamily, the tequila making you feel warm and fuzzy.

“Oh, really, baby?” Paige questions, her voice growing deeper as you tilt your hips against her thigh once more in an attempt to feel some relief. Her presence was overwhelming your senses, and there was fire deep in your abdomen that was raging.

 You forget to respond to her, too distracted from the way her leg felt so damn good against your clothed pussy. Attempting to lessen some of the desire building up inside you, you experimentally roll your hips, letting out a lustful whine as you realize how good it feels. 

Paige is momentarily stunned at your boldness before she grabs your chin, tilting it up to meet her eyes that were full of want. Your pupils are blown, the irises just a small ring at this point, and she questions if you really want to do this. 

Well obviously.

You nod your head, unsure if you had any words in you to describe just how badly you wanted Paige to fuck you.

“Baby, use your words,” Paige drawls. The huskiness of the term of endearment has you panting, and you struggle to moan out a “Yes, please just fuck me, P.”

That was all Paige needed. She places her hands underneath your ass, and lifts you up, carrying you towards your bedroom. You wrap your legs around her toned figure and meet her lips in a searing kiss. 

In a second, it feels like all the shittiness has evaporated away, leaving you feeling reborn and renewed. Paige was a fucking drug to you, and you needed another hit. 

Setting you down on your bed, Paige wastes no time stripping you of your oversized t-shirt, leaving you in your cotton panties that were now completely soaked. She swirls two fingers across the drenched fabric, smirking to herself that she was able to have such an effect on you. You whine at her deliberate actions and pout like a child who wasn’t getting their way. Paige laughs at your desperation and kisses the pout right off of your lips, licking into your mouth with fervor. 

You tug at her shirt, wanting her to be as bare as you were, and she quickly slips it over her head, throwing it onto the floor. There was still an imbalance of clothing between the two of you, and you finger the waistband of Paige’s sweatpants, wanting to see every bit of her. 

Shaking her head fondly at your blatant lack of shame, she gets off of the bed and shimmies out of her pants, leaving her in just a sports bra and those boxers you loved a little too much. From where you were still sitting on the bed, you shamelessly let your eyes rake over her toned figure. She was stunning, and you felt pride well up inside you, knowing you were finally going to have sex with the tall blonde.

It almost made the years of pining worth it. 

“This better?” Paige asks, gesturing towards her body, and you giggle in response. 

She climbs back onto the bed, a knee placed between your parted thighs and presses it against your soaked heat. You let out another loud moan at the contact, and your back arches off the bed from the pleasure. 

There are no thoughts in your tipsy, drunk-in-love brain, and it shows. You’re mumbling in tangents, now, pleading with Paige to do more. 

She finally concedes and goes to take off your panties. She’s being a little tease, slowly dragging them down your legs, while keeping intense eye contact with you. You are pretty sure the act makes your pussy drip even more. 

Placing a leg over her shoulder, Paige opens you up and takes a second to admire the gleaming wet folds that were hers and only hers. You tremble under her stare, feeling deliciously vulnerable in a way that makes you want to submit to her every whim. 

She inches closer to your pussy, pressing hot kisses all along your inner thighs. You revel in the buildup of it, trying to avoid being pushy. To no avail, your hips jut forward, slightly humping the air in an attempt to get some release. 

Coming back up to nip your earlobe playfully, Paige whispers sensually, “Gotta be a good girl for me.” 

You try to respond, but her use of the phrase ‘good girl’ makes the words catch in your throat. She resumes her kisses, trailing them down your throat to your chest, where she takes a detour in favor of showing your pretty, peaked nipples some attention. 

Another whine leaves your lips like a prayer, as Paige leaves love bites over your tits. That would look like a damn masterpiece in the morning, and you’re already planning to take a Polaroid picture of you topless, covered in Paige’s hickeys. 

Finally, she trails back down your stomach, fingers ghosting over your skin and leaving behind thousands of goosebumps in their wake. Your skin felt like it was on fire. 

“Please, Paigey. Need you, baby,” you whimper brokenly, begging for some respite from the torturous teasing. 

Paige gives in, dying to taste to you, and she licks a fat stripe on your pussy, starting at your dripping hole and ending in a tantalizing circle at your clit. Your hands fly to her head, trying not to pull at her hair too much. 

She inserts her middle finger into you, drawing another slutty moan from your lips as she pumps into you vigorously. 

There really is no way to describe just how good she is making you feel. The past six months of sex with Connor had been passionless and repetitive. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to go without this again. 

Paige inserts another finger in your pussy with a smirk and continues to pummel them against your g-spot. The pressure in the pit of your belly was already building, and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you exploded. Paige had taken a break from eating you out to kiss you once more, wanting you to taste your sweet wetness on her lips. It was possibly the hottest thing you had ever done, and the act pushes you closer to the finish line. 

“Gonna cum, Paigey,” you moan wantonly, your thighs twitching and your back arching once more. The tequila in your system causing you to act especially debauched. 

Paige loves it. 

“C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me,” she moans in response against your soaked pussy, and you fall apart instantaneously. 

High pitched whines and moans fill your bedroom as Paige continues thrusting her fingers in and out of you, slowing down as you ride out your high. If it wasn’t for the alcohol, you would be embarrassed with yourself, but there was no thought of that. 

You needed to taste Paige. 

Once Paige pulls out of you, licking her fingers off as if she was starved, you reattach your lips feverishly. You taste so good, but you are dying to know what she tastes like, and without warning, you strip the rest of her clothes off. 

She lays her head on your mountain of pillows, blonde hair fanning in all directions. You can see the heaving of her chest, already anticipating your touch. Her lips are swollen in a way that’s positively sinful, and you think you’ve never seen anyone look as beautiful as Paige does right now. 

Straddling her, you lean in to suck at the soft skin underneath her left ear, pulling out moan after moan that went right to your still-buzzing pussy. 

Trailing down to her tits, you knead one before attaching your hot mouth to the other, swirling your tongue around it and then nipping it experimentally. 

“Fuck, babe. Please. Can’t do more teasing,” Paige grits out, trying to maintain some semblance of control. 

Just as yours had, Paige’s hips squirm, and you grin up at her. You press kisses across her toned abdomen, mentally noting that her abs would be nice to ride another time, and finally settle at the opening of her legs. 

Spreading her open, you gaze upon her glistening wetness momentarily before diving in. You could not possibly wait another second to taste her. 

You two both moan at the contact, sending muffled vibrations against Paige’s pussy that brings forth a second, louder groan of pleasure. 

Wanting to make her feel so, so good, you plunge two fingers into her sopping wetness, while flicking the tip of your tongue across her clit repeatedly without ceasing. 

It had been awhile since you had eaten another girl out, but it came back to you immediately; it was like riding a bike. 

Paige’s moans fill the room, and you think you could die there happily. You’re unrelenting. The combination of three of your fingers and that lavicious tongue of yours soon has Paige panting out, “fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.” 

She rides out her orgasm, switching between moaning your name and naughty words that have you immediately wanting to do a second round. 

You pull your fingers out of her wetness, making a show of licking them off in front of her before meeting her in an erotic kiss.

You lay back on your pillows, stifling your sighs and calming the beat of your heart from what you had just done with your best friend. You look over at her, hoping and praying that the sex you just had wouldn’t ruin your friendship. 

Paige bites her lip, in a not so great attempt at hiding a smile, and pecks you on the lips. “That was way better than that fuckhead, Connor, right?” She was smug as hell. But she was not wrong.

“Considering his dick was three inches, uh yeah,” you laugh. “But joking aside, you were amazing.”

“Just glad I could make my girl feel better,” she replies.

“I’m your girl?” you ask, cheeks ablaze in a fiery heat of desire.

“You are now,” Paige chuckles, interlocking your pinkies together in an earnest proclamation of affection. 

You were hers, and she was yours. 

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

III who is best friends with reader and blatantly hates her now-ex because he was a piece of work :] (i regret dating my ex help)

May end with III and Reader drunk and making out. Add onto this idea if you'd like!!

First choice

iii never liked him. From the moment you introduced them, he hated the guy. So did he squeeze his hand just a bit harder while they shook hands? Yes. Did he ask a stupid question on purpose? Yes. And did his stare promise death? Yes, it did. “Can you behave?”, you had hissed at him a while picking up extra cutlery. “Haven’t killed the idiot so I think I’m behaving just fine”, iii had shrugged, making you let out a grunt as you went back into the dining room.

And quite frankly his suspicions had started to unfold not even after a month of you two being together. From missed dates to ghosted text. To fight each day. iii was a patient man he was listed to you talk about this over and over again. Suppressing the urge to punch the fucker next time he saw him. But it’s a random Friday, he’s been stuck in a studio for hours. Lost in music, when the door opens.

As if by a natural pull his head snaps up. His gut turned at the sight of your bloodshot eyes. The guitar is off his shoulders in seconds as he moves to the side, dogging Ivy as he moves towards the door. “Hey”, he manages to mutter before your eyes meet his and it’s like the final straw snaps. The sob that leaves your lips even with a hand clapped over your mouth is heartbreaking. iii puls you in, one hand cupping the back of your head. His jaw tenses as he feels you bunching up his shirt in your tiny palms as you pull him closer. “I’ve got you”, he mutters, “just breathe with me”.

He’s hyper-aware of everything, the fact that the boys stopped playing. He can feel their eyes burning holes in his back. He can feel how unevenly your heart is beating. The little tremble in your hands. “Come on, I will grab my stuff and we’ll leave”, leaning in he pressed a kiss to your head. “Can you go wait in the car?” He squeezes your shoulder looking down at you. You just nod, taking his car keys from him. Letting go is so hard and he’s left staring at the door for a moment. “iii”, it’s vessel’s voice that pulls him out. “I have it under control”, he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “Head on your shoulders, mate”, ii says calmly, but iii wasn’t listening as he ducked through the door.

Now hours later his shirt was drenched from tears. Your body was pressed against his as iii slowly ran his fingers through your hair. “I don’t get it”, you muttered for what felt like a thousand time. iii let his eyes close for a heartbeat, “love, he’s the one who fucked up”, he said firmly, “wish I could give him peace of my mind”, “No, promise me you won’t do something stupid if you run into him”, you reached out grasping his hand. “Define stupid”, “iii”, you warned him. “I hate seeing you like this over some… stupid prick”, he grunted, wiping away yet another tear from your cheeks.

You just sighed, shaking your head slightly, “always wanted to be someone’s first choice”. iii watched you for a moment, “you are though”, he pointed out. “Not really no”, you shook your head. “To me you are, always been my first choice”, your head turned to him so fast your vision blurred for a moment, “what?”, you muttered. “Now is probably not the best…”, “iii”, you said a say, shaking your head. “I like you, thought it was quite obvious”, he muttered. “But you… I saw you with… the blonde”, you whispered. “Emily works for our pr, that’s why she was here a couple of times”, iii frowned slightly.

“I only went out with Ben because…”, you let your words trail off before your eyes moved back to iii. You fist his shirt once again, crashing your lips into his. It’s messy and desperate. Both riding a shock wave of it all. “Let…”, iii pulls away, breathlessly before leaning in for one more kiss, “let’s take this slow. Let me properly wine and dine you”, he mutters against your lips. “You don’t have to, I’ve known you for years”, you muse. “No, we are doing it the proper way”, iii argues back, “And I still might punch your ex”, “iii”, you grunt but he’s quick to shush you by brushing his lips over yours once more.

[magnoliasandarson]

the first gala

Jason was uncomfortable. His skin chafed against his stupid silk suit, his dumb tie was strangling him, and his shoes pinched his heels with every step. Worst of all- he was staring down at a crowd of Gotham's wealthiest- decked out in all their resplendent jewelry and finest clothes. It made him vaguely nauseous.

Bruce patted him on the shoulder, fingers clasping firmly for just a moment before swanning down the stairs, smiling broadly at his adoring army of socialites. It was a sickening sight. Just an hour prior, Bruce had sat with him, tied his tie, and told him what to expect. That he wouldn't be the same person at the Gala that he was when they read together. It made Jason's chest clench.

He carefully followed down the stairs, eyes locked firmly ahead, jaw clenched. Dick warned him that the snooty bastards would not be kind, that they wouldn't accept him. They hadn't accepted Dick at first, but his stupid smile and stupid charm eventually won the hearts of most of the stupid crowd. Jason exhaled deeply through his nose, he needed to stay calm.

Once he reached the main floor, his eyes strayed from their laser focus to find Bruce Brucie. The billionaire was playing his part remarkably well, an arm wrapped around a stunning blonde woman- the other gesturing with a half-empty champagne glass. The sight of Bruce downing the rest made Jason's stomach roll.

A withered hand gripped his shoulder and made him freeze in place. He followed the hand up and found the hooded eyes of one of the many rich old ladies that had popped up on Dick's PowerPoint. He distantly remembered a giant red circle and big black letters that said AVOID AT ALL COSTS.

"And what dumpster did Wayne pull you from, boy," a little bit of saliva passed her red painted lips, splattering onto Jason's face.

Jason felt a dark blush bloom across his face, turning his tan skin the color of a tomato. He shook the arm off and opened his mouth to respond, when another idiot materialized, "Leave the wretched thing alone, mother," the idiot smiled a stupid smile and Jason found himself wanting to punch those dumb perfect teeth in, "you know how sensitive Wayne gets about his charity cases."

Jason's upper lip curled up into a violent version of a grin; his ears were red, and his fists clenched. Venom pooled on his tongue but he curbed the desire to shout and curse, "I'll be goin' then."

The 'son' laughed that stupid rich fake laugh, his stupid gelled hair not moving a millimeter when he tossed his head back, "No no no, the other one did these delightful tricks," he swirled his glass of champagne, "why don't you do something amusing for us. Show us why Wayne rescued you from whatever hovel he pulled you from."

Jason felt more than saw the presence at his back, and all of a sudden, the gelled-haired idiot was on the floor, clutching his jaw with his champagne glass shattered next to him. Bruce smiled like he'd just read an article taking down Lex Luthor, "My apologies, Preston, Veronica," he shifted to partially obscure Jason, "my hand must have slipped."

And in that moment, watching an aristocrat spit blood onto the polished floor (those perfect teeth covered in red), Bruce's fine tailored suit protecting him like a shield, in a stunned silent room- Jason smiled a real smile for the first time that night.

[whatwouldsylwrite]

At least I got you in my head (6)

(5)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

Notes: Abby is stupid, but she finally says goodbye to Aslan and leaves Narnia! Let's say a big thank you to Ellie for being the bestest friend ever. You're just chilling with Vi, this chapter is mostly Abby-centric because oh boy she overthinks. Four-eyed girl/blonde bitch is Kara Danvers.

Taglist: @abbyily @lillysbigwilly @gravygranules @blairfox04 @frogtits1 @ccinnamongrl @ninazenuk @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sunkissedbibi @couchgarbage @nil-eena @inlovewithelliewilliams @st4rluvrr @mai5mai @machetegirl109 @azelmawrites @zootedhoe @rhae-blackqueen @vea-vea-vea @mnim58e @chubeline @strgrlxox @chrry1ovr (if you want me to tag/untag you for the whole series dm me please)

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Abby had a problem.

It’s been two weeks since you brought that blonde four-eyed girl home, and Abby had a problem.

Because you brought another girl again a week ago, and it didn’t make Abby feel any better.

In fact, she only got angrier and felt even more disgust than before. And it was bothering her, because you yourself weren't disgusting at all, the best roommate and a good friend, and she loved spending time with you as always, but there was one thing that made her uneasy.

The gay thing. The thing where you had sex with girls. Abby was absolutely fine with you at any other moment, but when she saw that blonde bitch kissing you goodbye she almost puked.

So Abby came to the most logical conclusion: she was homophobic. This revelation made her heart stop as she became more afraid of herself - she'd never say she was a homophobe, her best friend was a lesbian, it just didn't make sense! But Abby never heard Ellie have sex and never saw her hookups after, so she just didn't have a trigger to figure out how much gay was too much for her. She could listen to Ellie talking about her new girl no problem, but that was probably it. And they never lived together, so Abby couldn't say if she'd be okay if Ellie would bring girls over, so.

Abby was deeply ashamed of herself, but she had to admit it.

She wasn't okay with the fact that you were a lesbian.

To make things worse, Abby remembered how you told her you were a lesbian to make sure she was okay living with you, and she said yes, and how sad it made her that you had to clarify it right away because you probably had your fair share of homophobia in your life, and now Abby was not okay with it.

Fuck, she was like those shitty parents who said that they accepted their children as they were, but then pulled "keep it to yourself" on them. That was literally how Abby felt, because she wished you could go back to "normal" where she didn't know anything about your sex life.

When you didn't have a sex life.

"Did you finish your paper?" You asked on Tuesday morning as you brewed coffee for her, sleepy and tired, your hair a mess.

How could she live with herself now?

"Yeah." Abby said shortly, not looking at you, too ashamed.

"That's amazing." You yawned and put the plate with breakfast in front of her. "You'll have to wait for coffee, sorry."

Abby wanted to cry. You were so nice to her and she was a horrible fucking person who hated the fact that you were gay.

"It's okay."

"Are you feeling okay? You seem a little bit down." You looked sympathetic and worried, and it really hurt.

Abby chuckled, trying to act normal, but when she lifted her eyes the first thing she saw was a hickey on your collarbone and her stomach twisted in disgust.

"Just tired. Can't wait for the break." So she could go home and not see you. (So she could go home and miss you crazy)

"Are you going back home?"

"Yeah, all the way to Seattle. You?"

"I'll probably stay here. Or if Cait would have to go home, I'll go with her to keep her sane."

"Does her family celebrate Thanksgiving?"

"Not really, but social events are social events and if they need to show her off, they will."

"Tough."

"Are you sure you're okay? You can talk to me." You asked again, still worried and clearly not buying Abby's excuses.

Abby shook her head and smiled, knowing you'd read right through her.

"Nah, I'm fine. Don't worry your pretty head."

Besides, what would she tell you? That she despised your sexuality? That she wished you were straight? That she needed you to stop having sex and promise her you'd never get a girlfriend because it didn't align with her traditional beliefs? Yeah, what a great conversation it would be.

The lessons with Vi were very productive: you were sure she'd get an A on her test with how much progress she made in these few weeks. She tended to forget some things, but she was able to logic her way out of questions that she didn't remember the right answer to, and you felt confident in her abilities.

The sex was amazing too. Vi was really chill about a lot of things, very flexible and actually enjoyed it when you topped, which didn't happen often with girls you usually hooked up with. She was very sweet and so down to earth you started trusting her without even noticing it. You started having deep conversations after sex, sharing your secrets and problems, and you adored Vi.

"In a friendly way." You specified when you told her how much you appreciated her.

"I remember, don't worry." Vi laughed and stroked her bare thigh. "I'm not emotionally available either."

"Really? Spill." You got excited, happy to not be alone in the losers' boat.

"Only if you do too."

"Oh, no problem." You laughed. "I'm the worst gay stereotype. She is straight and I'm hopeless."

Vi's hand stopped on your thigh and she looked at you like you were insane.

"Are you stupid?"

"I am." You laughed and nuzzled on her shoulder. "My best friend thinks she is in the closet, but it doesn't really help, you know?"

"Yeah." Vi sighed and looked at the ceiling, contemplating your words, as her other arm pulled you closer. "I'm genuinely sorry, (y/n)."

"Yeah, me too." You took a pause, looking at the ceiling as well, still a little high after your last orgasm, but sadness was creeping out on you when you thought about Abby. "What about you?"

"I-uh. We share a class together, but I've never talked to her. She is very smart, like. Genius level."

"And I'm stupid?" You said, playfully offended. "Be brave, talk to her. Which class do you share?"

"The class I'm failing and you're tutoring me in. Not the great first impression. Plus, you know, what if I'm in love with a fantasy in my head? I don't know her."

"Go and talk to her, I swear to god. I can do it for you, if you want." You shrugged, not seeing any barriers in this situation. You were 100% hopeless, but Vi could still get her girl.

"It's pointless. She'd never give a chance to someone like me, we're from different worlds. Oil and water." Vi said, sad and given up, and you felt angry on her behalf: what was so special about this girl that Vi didn't even want to try?

"What do you mean?"

"She is rich. And I'm an orphan who can barely pay rent and have a baby sister to support."

"If it's a problem for her, she is an asshole and doesn't deserve you anyway." You huffed. "But yeah, I know what you're saying. Privilege is something you can't really ignore."

Vi hummed and you kissed her shoulder just to show you were there for her. You knew what Vi was talking about firsthand: Caitlyn really had to learn a lot when you became friends, since you had to financially support yourself the whole time and couldn't afford hanging out in places Cait used to hang out. She was confused when her expensive gifts offended you and she looked so terrified when you brought her to eat street food and there were no textile napkins. It was hilarious but it was also a harsh reminder of what privilege looked like.

Now she was way down to earth and ate pizza with her hands while sitting on the ground, changed her whole friend circle and yeah, she was still wearing a lot of expensive things, but she knew her privilege and never looked down at anyone, almost embarrassed she had it better. Which was a good look on her, honestly - she wasn't responsible for her family's wealth, but she was still responsible for herself and you felt comforted knowing she held herself accountable. Caitlyn was good, and you hoped Vi's girl would be even better to her.

Or you'd have to hunt her down and kill her, because Vi was precious.

On Thursday you had your usual cuddle time and Abby never felt more guilty in her life as she once again held you in her arms and enjoyed it. She couldn't keep her hands off you no matter how hard she tried, and she didn't want to distance herself from you and make you feel guilty - she knew you would since you always confirmed if Abby was okay with being touched. It didn't seem fair to still cuddle you and bask in your warmth and softness when she had this nasty feeling inside her. If before that she felt like she was using you because she was touch-starved, now not only she was using you because she was touch-starved, she actually had the audacity to be disgusted when she thought where your hands might have been.

Where your mouth might have been.

Abby noticed she was looking at your mouth a lot, and she was mad at herself because instead of trying to block those awful thoughts and avoid possible triggers she only instigated them by looking at your mouth for no reason at all.

Abby was slowly going insane and she really needed to discuss it with someone who wouldn’t judge her, because it wasn’t her proudest moment. She felt like the worst person in the world for being the way she was, but she just couldn’t get over herself. So instead of going home on Friday night Abby went over to Ellie’s place.

She was afraid to bring this up with Ellie too, because if she was homophobic it meant Ellie was under fire too and Abby wanted to cry from how bad she felt. They have been friends since they were children and Abby was the first person Ellie came out to and now Abby felt like she might ruin something between them and betray Ellie's trust.

Ellie noticed something was up with her and Abby already saw her stubborn frown that meant she wouldn't get away without talking to her.

"What's up with you? You look like a kicked puppy." Ellie took a swig of her beer as she observed Abby, trying to read her non-verbals.

"I've discovered something about myself I'm not really proud of." Abby admitted and Ellie nodded knowingly as if she already knew what Abby was going to say. Fuck, was she micro-homophobic to Ellie before? Was it something noticeable? Did she hurt Ellie? "I'm a homophobe."

The knowing look on Ellie's face changed to shock as her eyes grew in size and her mouth fell open.

"You're what." Ellie asked carefully as if Abby was an angry animal who needed to be calmed down.

"I'm sorry." Abby said immediately. "I know it sounds ridiculous since you're my best friend but hear me out."

“..Okay.”

“Fuck, it’s so awful.” Abby started, ashamed of herself. “A few weeks ago (y/n) and I discussed  bringing people over and she started bringing girls. And I thought I'd be okay with it, but I'm just. So disgusted. I literally want to throw up.” Abby looked at Ellie, ready to accept her reaction, no matter what it would be, but Ellie only stared at her, confused.

"That's why you think you're a homophobe?"

"Yes. Because I'm only like that when she brings girls over. She is the best roommate I've ever had, but I'm not fine with her being gay."

"Are you fine with me being gay?" Ellie asked, still confused, and Abby felt the guilt wash over her.

"I don't know anymore. You didn't have sex in the same apartment with me, so I have no evidence. I think I'm fine if you keep it to yourself?" Why was she like this? This was her best friend and she was a total asshole to her right now.

Ellie sat straight and leaned to Abby as if she wanted to say something important.

"Abby. Abigail. You went to lesbian bars with me. You saw me making out. You were hit on a million times by other women. I never kept it to myself with you." Ellie waited until Abby took it in. "I'll prove it to you."

Ellie stood up and went to the door to her room, opening it halfway and sticking her head out.

"Dina! Can you come here?"

Ellie's roommate came into the room a few moments later and Abby was confused as fuck - did they need a whole council to decide Abby's fate or what?

"Abby here thinks she is a homophobe. Can you make out with me in front of her?"

Abby couldn't help but laugh in surprise, her affection for Ellie's stupid ideas lifting her mood a little. Dina laughed too and shrugged, sitting next to Ellie on the opposite side of Abby.

"Pda is generally uncomfortable, you know." Dina said to Ellie, seemingly thinking her idea was stupid too, but still rolling with it.

"Well, you tell us Abby if it's generally uncomfortable or you want us to burn in hell." Ellie murmured in Dina's lips before she kissed her.

Abby felt her breath hitch as she watched them making out and it was even more embarrassing - she didn't feel disgust, no. She felt- She felt-

Abby was terrified to give a name to this feeling, suddenly ashamed of what she felt as she watched her best friend making out with another girl, but her chest fluttered and her heart was beating faster. She felt an ache between her legs and it was even more embarrassing - was she- was she fetishizing her best friend? Was she that deranged?

"So, do you want to throw up?" Ellie asked, panting, as she moved her hands away from Dina's face.

"No." What Abby actually wanted was a very different thing. "I mean- no. I'm fine. You both are pretty, so."

Ellie and Dina shared a look between them, and if Abby paid attention she'd know their looks said "this bitch is stupid".

"Am I fetishizing you right now?" Abby asked, genuinely confused.

"I can't believe this shit." Ellie said, exasperated. "You're not. Abby, you're not a homophobe, okay?"

"I'm gonna go, I have shit to do. Good luck with the identity crisis, Abby." Dina said and left Ellie's room to give them privacy, knowing it was a conversation she shouldn't be a part of.

"But if I saw (y/n) like this I'd definitely puke. I almost did." Abby countered, still confused.

"So you're saying you only have this reaction to (y/n)?"

"I think so. How many lesbians do you think are having sex in my apartment?"

"Well, considering (y/n)'s body count, I'd say a lot."

Abby frowned in anger and Ellie caught it, coming up with a different reason.

"Maybe you're just uncomfortable with her having sex at your place. Would you care if she didn't bring those girls home but fucked them somewhere else?"

Abby went silent as she imagined that, but Ellie interrupted her fantasy where she was totally cool with you sleeping around outside your place.

"Because I know she stayed over at other people's places."

The cocktail of her awful emotions came back full force and the fantasy where Abby was okay with it was in ruins, replaced with fury - she didn't know that and it made her fucking mad.

"How do you know that?"

"Gossip." Ellie said shortly. "So, do you care if she fucks somewhere else?"

Oh, Abby wanted to lie so bad. She wanted to pretend the whole issue was just about your sex life on her doorstep, but she was tired of feeling like this. She was tired of getting angry at you for nothing and she just wanted everything to be back to normal.

"I do."

"Okay." Ellie sighed. "I'm going to say something, okay?"

Abby nodded, apprehensive.

"You're jealous, Abby."

"Nah, I had Owen, remember? I'm not worried about having less sex." Abby said, relieved: she already thought of this and figured out it wasn't about who had more sex in your apartment.

"No, Abs. You're jealous of all those girls who fuck her."

"That… doesn't make sense." Abby laughed nervously, suddenly filled with desire to hide from Ellie and her words.

"Dude, being homophobic to one person doesn't make sense either, since a) I'm your best friend and I'm a lesbian b) you didn't punch me when I told you I had a crush on you-"

"That was so embarrassing why would you bring it up-"

"And c) you literally punch homophobes in their face."

"I'm not gay." Abby said stubbornly. Yes she did punch some homophobes in her life, but it didn't make her a lesbian. She didn't like girls! She wasn't like that!

"I didn't say that." Ellie chuckled like she caught Abby on something. "But the thought that you're homophobic is ridiculous."

It was ridiculous. Oh god. Abby felt so stupid right now - what kind of mental gymnastics was she doing? And she was so sure of it too, it really seemed logical and sensible. But if she wasn't homophobic, she didn't care where you had sex (she only cared that you had sex at all), what was her problem?

"Have you ever thought of her in that way?" Ellie asked.

"Why would I?" Abby asked, suddenly defensive.

"Why would it be so wrong if you liked girls?"

That question broke Abby's brains. She stared at Ellie for a few seconds, not even comprehending her words. Indeed, why would it be so wrong? There was nothing wrong with liking girls, why didn't she want to even entertain the idea? Why did she push this "husband two and a half kids dog" agenda on herself? 

"Am I fucking-" Abby was shocked as thoughts ran through her head at light speed. "Am I homophobic to myself?"

"This feels like therapy, I swear." Ellie chuckled. "Dude, if you feel guilty for liking girls then yes, you're homophobic to yourself."

"I just-" Abby looked at her own hands, still shocked. "I didn't think I was allowed." 

"Well, as the president of lesbians I'm giving you permission to like girls. How does it feel?"

"Like you're stupid and I'm even more stupid." Abby deadpanned. "This is-"

So many things started to make sense: the way Abby always tried not to stare at other girls, how she preferred softness to hardness, "all girls are pretty", how she never bothered with boys because they didn't strike much interest and ran to girls instead because they were just better-

(How she stared at Caitlyn's tits)

"I'm not straight." Abby said and laughed. "And I'm so stupid."

Ellie laughed and nodded. She was happy for Abby, even if she was an utter idiot. 

"Homophobic my ass." Ellie thought as they clicked their bottles. "Congratulations on liking pussy, Abs."

Abby laughed, a little embarrassed, but she felt so light in that moment, finally free of years of guilt for looking at girls for too long. It also explained why didn't look at you when you were just out of the shower - she was just gay and scared. 

For some reason the conversation changed and they never got back to why you were Abby's "favourite", too overwhelmed with the biggest realisation of Abby's life. Abby was absolutely thrilled with her new discovery and excited about what laid ahead. 

As far as she could tell, all lesbians around her were having a hell of a fun time.

[gothlcsan]

No, Mr. Ghostface ; HAN JISUNG

PAIRING killer!afab!reader , victim!jisung

GENRE 18+ smut mature

SYNOPSIS reader who taunts the pretty boy in their class, Jisung. you had overheard Jisung’s conversation, expressing his love (and unholy thoughts) for ghostface. so, you study the series, becoming his perfect ghostface.

WORD COUNT 2007

WARNINGS blood, reader is a bit nuts, noncon to dubcon, reader attacks han, gore (not detailed), kissing, handjob, intentional use of pain to subdue han, choking, improper care of open wounds

♫ …baby one more time - the marias

a/n day twelve of kinktober, i decided on something a little close (but still mellow) to the typical things i write. i hope that you enjoy it as much as i did. > < please like and reblog!

Han is curled on the couch, feet tucked into his comforter as his phone rings, he doesn’t recognize the number so he ignores it and settles back to continue his movie. There’s a moment of silence until his phone goes off, Han sighing in annoyance as he gets up to answer it.

“Hello,” Han speaks with a slight annoyed edge to his voice, still not recognizing the number. The other side of the call is quiet for a few seconds which Han nearly hangs up before a sudden voice breaking the silence makes him jump, nearly dropping the phone to the ground in shock.

“I wouldn't hang up if I was you, Han Jisung.”

Han freezes, removing the phone from his ear to see who had called him but it only showed, “no caller id.” He rolls his eyes as he places the phone back to his ear so he could hear the other person rambling on about how he, Jisung, had some freaky fantasies. After the caller said that is when it clicked, this annoying prankster was imitating the scream movies. He decided it had to be one of his stupid friends who was using their conversation from earlier against him, sighing before replying.

“So, Mr. Ghostface, what’s your intentions with this, huh?” Han moves to go sit back on the couch, playing with the frayed ends of his comforter. He's met with silence again, only being able to hear faint rustling. Han repeats himself, beginning to debate on ending the call again but stops when he hears rustling again on the other end and the classic ghostface voice telling him to go to his bedroom. Han bites his bottom lip, he knew the classic horror tropes and how idiotic that would be but curiosity ran through him so he obeyed, standing up and slowly walking up the flight of stairs to his bedroom on the second floor. Walking down the small hallway, he stops at his bedroom door, sighing into the phone as he slowly turns the doorknob, walking in being introduced by nothing. There’s laughter on the other end, the voice asking him if he was scared, informing him how he really was the stereotypical dumb blonde of the horror film for listening to him. Han’s heart raced in his chest, banging against his rips as he angrily hung up the phone and fell into bed. He placed the phone onto the side desk, angrily going back downstairs as annoyance enraged him but there was a slight twinge of arousal, the idea of someone stalking him let alone his weird thing for ghostface’s voice.

The silence is pierced when the landline phone rings this time, not bothering to check the caller id as he answered knowing who it was. He places the phone against his ear, cursing as angry screaming rips through his ears.

“What did I fucking say about hanging up, you want to be murdered you idiotic fuck?”

Han slowly placed the phone back up against his ear when the yelling stopped, sighing with annoyance before speaking.

“Look, this was funny at first but now you’re just being annoying. I’m not sure which one of my friends paid you to bother me but I got to go back to studying which means you need to stop calling.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone, Jisung asking them if they’re still there. He figured maybe they got the hint to give up on scaring him, going to hang up before he hears a laugh.

“Is watching The Dark Knight what you consider studying now? What’s your homework? Rob a bank?”

Han whips around to stare at his tv screen, seeing it paused on the bank heist scene, his heart beginning to race in fear. He grabs the remote and shuts the tv off, walking around the house to ensure everything was locked. The laughter in his ear makes him nauseous, throwing the phone onto the couch and darting upstairs to grab his cellphone. Slamming his bedroom door behind him he makes a mess of his side table hunting for his phone swearing he left it there, his blood running ice cold when he hears it going off in the closet. Han knows he shouldn’t, this would be on his top ten list of dumbest decisions he’s ever made, but there was still that twinge of hope this was all a prank set up by his friends. Taking a deep breath he throws open both doors to his closet, cautiously bending down to pick up the phone, hanging up the call. He doesn’t take his eyes off the array of black clothing silently cursing himself for doing such, slamming the closet doors and going to run back downstairs. However, he slams into something instead, no more so someone. Han swears, trying to push past them instantly recognizing the classic Ghostface attire, swearing loudly as his thigh gets swiped by the blade. He tumbles down onto the ground in the hallway, clenching his thigh as he scoots further down hoping to reach the stairs. Han didn’t care, he’d rather roll down the hard wooden stairs than be killed by a copycat killer, reaching the stairs setting himself up to roll but yanked back by his hair, screaming in agony as he gets thrown back into a table, the potted plant shattering next to him as it makes contact with the floor.

You let go of his hair, kicking the broken shards of pottery out of your way as you step closer to Han, squatting next to him. Pressing the blade against Han’s throat, you ensure it’s not deep enough to cause any damage, but enough to get your point across. Han stops moving, staring up at the masked man - no woman on top of him, failing at not getting distracted by how hot the situation felt to him. He goes to speak, grimacing as the blade cuts deeper, opting out on speaking and just lying there compliantly. A hand sneaks its way down to his thighs, the thin fabric of his shorts leaving nothing to the imagination, Han silently moaning as the gloved hand wraps itself around his balls, tugging to the point it felt like they’d be ripped off. No longer caring about the blade against his throat, Han moans loudly, arching his body to get more out of the hand touching him.

“You look so stupidly pathetic, are you seriously this turned on when I can simply kill you,” you questioned, the crackle in the voice disguise making Han light up. The idea of him being murdered in his own apartment was slightly thrilling, especially with the Ghostface on top of him, who started to squeeze the base of his cock with enough force to bruise it. He brings a hand to caress the cheek of the mask, forcing the intruder down so he can plant a kiss against the opened mouth, now completely disregarding the reality of the situation. You’re slightly taken aback by it not realizing how deranged Han really was. Going to pull yourself back Han looks at you with so much yearning you feel it clench around your heart, opting to stay put. Raising the knife up you watch Han scrunch his eyes in fear, no in acceptance, as you slam it into the wooden floor beside his head, telling him to lift his hips. He obliged with your demands, hissing between clenched teeth as the cut on his thigh is also moved, watching you intensely. Wrapping your hand around his throat, not caring about the pain he’d be in, you tell him to instead stand up and walk to his bedroom. You follow close behind, yanking the knife out of the floor, there goes his security deposit, you chuckled in your head, growing annoyed with his slow steps as he clung to the wall for support.

“Jesus fucking christ, move already.” You screamed at him, angrily going behind him and pushing him into the bedroom, kicking him behind the knee to cause him to slam chest first onto the floor. The air is thrown out of his lungs, Han curled into a fetal position in pain, whimpering when you squat next to him. Debating on what to do with Han, you settle for grabbing him by the back of his neck, having his eyes water as he slowly lifts his head up to look into his mirror. Humility covers his skin in a flushed red, his dick hard in his shorts from the situation. You didn’t have time to be patient with him or take your time as you hoped, knowing his downstairs neighbors surely heard the rokus and would be complaining soon enough. Damn old fucks, you thought to yourself. Pulling his shorts down to his ankles you ignore Han’s pained cries and his annoyed remarks over his blood staining the carpet, rolling him onto his back. The glossy look in his eyes fills you with thrill, Han being a very pretty crier, lifting up the end of the cloak to show off your black lace panties. Han moans staring at your body, growing prideful as you take his leaking dick into your free hand, giving it a few painfully slow strokes. His head fell to the side, his teeth clenched in pain but he was ignoring it, choosing to focus primarily on the pleasure you were giving him with your hand. Part of you debates walking away but you were not going to lose this opportunity, quickening the pace of your strokes as Han grabbed at your arm, grumbling about it being too much.

“You’re such a perv.” You laughed at him as he barely nodded, agreeing with everything you said to him. Han’s hands shake against your arm as you rubbed your thumb pad in and out of the slit of his dick, spreading the precum down his shaft. You weren’t entirely focused on pleasuring him, more so entertained with how much he was enjoying this with you, a complete stranger unbeknownst to him the reality of you being a classmate. Refocusing yourself on Han, you go back to stroking him, grabbing his hand to bring down to your panties letting him feel the lace under his fingertips. You bite down on your bottom lip, licking off the iron taste of blood, cursing yourself mentally for enjoying the way his fingers felt in between your legs. Needing to focus, you swat his hand away telling him that was enough, lying by saying he was terrible, solely focusing on making him cum by your hand. Han scrunches his eyes together, eyebrows furrowed as he tries his best not to cum, eyes shooting open when you harshly slap the cut on his thigh, demanding that he cum already.

The muscles in his stomach tighten and then relax as he cums, spilling over your closed fist, his groans gurgled with his saliva being in pain and bliss simoustanly. Leaning forward, you tell Han to keep his eyes shut or you’ll take the knife to his stupid face, tipping your mask back just enough to expose your lips. Trailing your lips down his throat, you pepper his wound with kisses, smirking at the pained noises he made, wiping your dirtied hand against his shirt, fixing your mask before getting up to walk downstairs.

“Are you seriously going to leave me like this?” Han questioned while trying to sit up, his thigh throbbing in pain whilst doing so.

“You figure it out, freak.” Is all you say as you walk away, throwing him your lace panties, knowing that pervert would be using them to get off once more before attending to his wounds. Tucking the mask and knife into your cloak, fixing your hair as you pass the hallway of doors, an old lady popping her head out to which you smile at, telling her to have a goodnight.

Han Jisung was now your pretty victim and you weren’t going to let anything stop you from having him.

[poisonlove]

Miss Ortega|  j.o

jenna ortega x lector

Before entering the new school year, I never thought that changing my calculus teacher would change my life completely. Specifically, brown eyes and freckles left me with no choice but to surrender to them. Jenna Ortega, the new calculus teacher was going to come into the life of many students, who were only going to see her as one more teacher among many in the school. But unlike them, Professor Ortega was not only going to advise me for an academic contest, but also, to divert me from the path to what had once been my comfort zone.

“Did you hear that there will be a new Calculus teacher?" Enid said with a hint of happiness. A new school year began at Nevermore Academy, and all the students were excited about the news. Mr. Brown was an old grump who spent half of his time belittling boys and girls because they didn't understand his classes. Countless times I had argued with that idiot, suppressing the urge to gouge his eyes out every time he made Enid cry, calling her things like "stupid" and "I should have failed you." Despite that, he had never said anything offensive to me, perhaps because I was his only student who excelled in his class. Maybe it was that motivation that gave me the courage to confront him and defend my best friend. Half the time, I couldn't bear to argue with this old man, and as a result, I visited the principal's office quite often. I knew his office by heart. I closed my locker with a dull thud and smiled at Enid while holding my books. Ironically, we were going to have Calculus as our first class, and to make it even more dreadful, it was going to be two hours long. 

Two endless hours.

 I hope this new teacher is pleasant.

"Actually, yes, I'm glad that old grump is gone. I couldn't stand him anymore," I rolled my eyes with annoyance, starting to walk towards our destination. Enid walked faster, catching up to me, trying to catch her breath. "But you were his favorite!" Enid interlocked our arms, walking slower in the hallway. "Maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that he has been unbearable," I tilted my head, feeling somewhat uncertain about my words. Enid furrowed her brow, and her grip on my arm loosened as we entered our classroom. We took the last seats. "Hey T/N, have you seen Spencer? She's not responding to my messages," the blonde looked at her phone with a pout, typing something I couldn't identify. I shook my head slowly, turning on my phone. A notification made me smile at the coincidence. It was from Spencer.

S: Hey T/N, I'm staying home today. I'm feeling sick.

                                                             Me: Don't worry, see you later.

"Spencer isn't coming, she's sick," I turned off my phone, putting it in a corner of my desk. The blonde looked somewhat annoyed at me. "Well, she's MY friend, and she doesn't even take the time to let me know, but she does with you," she took out her pencil case and books, muttering words I couldn't catch. "What can I say? I'm amazing," I smiled at her, and she rolled her eyes in feigned annoyance. The bell rang, signaling the start of the school year, and all the students entered their respective classrooms. The murmurs and curiosity were palpable in this school; everyone wanted to find out who the new teacher was. I rested my head on my desk, scanning the hallway outside the window. The sound of heels approaching made me shiver, and unconsciously, I looked towards the classroom door. As the sound of heels drew nearer, my heart pounded rapidly against my ribcage from nervousness. "It seems like it's a female teacher," Enid whispered beside me, nervous and excited about the news. I looked at Enid with a trembling smile. The murmurs grew louder until they ceased completely. Confused, I looked towards the door, and my breath got stuck in my throat when I saw who was standing there. A woman, too young I must admit, looked curiously at her new class. She was wearing jeans, a simple white tank top, and black heels. Her right hand held a small backpack. A ghost of a smile played on her face as she amusedly observed the students' reactions.

She... she can't be a teacher...

She entered the classroom, walking slowly towards her desk. She sat on it, swinging her legs. She smiled as she looked at us, trying to be friendly. "Hello, everyone. I'm Jenna Ortega, your new Calculus teacher," she smiled at us with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

This has to be a joke.

[strwbrrylou]

Cold but you keep me warm

Stargoth (Chase x Buddy) ficlet. 1,165 words.

My first time writing a fanfic, with a little help from AI (pls dont kill me </3) I hope you like it.

>>>

"This is not happening," Chase muttered, pacing in the small cabin that kept him and his nemesis from the snowstorm quickly brewing outside.

Buddy shot him a quick glare before rolling his eyes. "Believe me, I'm not thrilled about it either," he said drily as he tries to lie comfortably on the small bed which barely had enough room for two people.

Chase did nothing but grimace. He didn't expect this story's route to take such an unfortunate turn at all. He regrets letting Deacon choose the story so, so much. Nothing ever goes well whenever he gives that nerd a chance to choose a novel. Chase knew he always had weird and complex tastes, much to his dislike.

Because out of all the books he owned, why did he have to pick one with a natural disaster that trapped and most likely killed the heroine and the villainess together in a bleak and small unwelcoming cabin?

The silence between them continued until the blond finally felt a shudder run down his spine. Either from the chilly air that threatened to freeze them inside the cabin or the thought of having to lie in the same bed with the annoying Mall Goth if he wanted to stop shivering from the godforsaken cold.

"Do you want to die from hypothermia?" Buddy stares at him. Chase couldn't tell if he was finally concerned for him or if he was mocking him, like usual.

"Of course I don't!" he grits his teeth that chattered from each word he spoke.

"Well, it looks like you'll freeze to death soon, if you choose to stay over there, idiot."

Chase glared at him, but Buddy was right. The cold is numbing that he might actually just freeze to death. After a while, he reluctantly made his way to the unappealing bed in defeat, the wooden floor creaking beneath his feet.

It's just one night. He can do this. He can stay awake the entire night to make sure Buddy doesn't do anything suspicious until the snowstorm clears off. Yeah, no biggie. It's just a bed. A small bed. With Buddy lying down on said small bed.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid." Buddy sighed as if he can read his thoughts and pulled the covers over himself, moving to the edge of the bed. Chase was relieved that he was willing to give him space. Without a word, he settled on the soft mattress, feeling the warmth slowly creep up to him.

But he still felt cold.

He tugs on the blanket, frowning. His attempts were futile as Buddy was hoarding the whole bundle of warmth. Making it obvious that he didn't want to share.

With a frustrated grunt, Chase tugs it harder one more time. "Can you stop taking the entire blanket? It's not even yours!"

Buddy ignored him and buried himself deeper under the covers. "Great, you're not responding. Is this how you handle conflicts? Being the avoidant type?" He scoffed and decided to edge closer to Buddy's side. He ignores the way their bodies are touching.

But he failed to ignore how his heart skipped a beat as he felt Buddy's body heat against his cold skin.

Chase cursed and punches himself mentally.

This is so not happening.

As time passes by, Chase could feel himself getting more restless by the cold and the silence. The cabin was quiet aside from his own breath that fogged through the icy air.

He finally risked a glance at Buddy, only to see his slim back.

"Hey," he mutters. The goth ignores him.

"Hey, I'm cold," Chase whined.

Slowly, Buddy turns to his side with a sigh. His icy blue eyes meet Chase's warm brown ones.

"And?"

"You're a jerk, at least share your blanket or something."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You have to or I'll die from hypothermia like you said."

Buddy remained quiet and unmoving, but his gaze lingered on him, as if he was studying every inch of his face. Before Chase could complain again, Buddy brought the blanket up to the smaller boy, letting the soft material drape over the two of them.

As Buddy shifted slightly, his arm brushed against Chase's, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

Chase swallowed hard, his heart quickening its pace in his chest. They were so close that if he really examined him enough he could see his long eyelashes that made him look so attractive-

What is wrong with him?

This is his nemesis. The most annoying guy he has ever met. The guy who would do anything to stop him from getting what he wants.

He should really stop staring.

"You're so easy to read, you know that?" Buddy said. Did he just snicker at him? Chase snapped back to where he was and sees Buddy's cocky expression.

He notices the slight tint of pretty pink on his ears, and Chase wonders if he's also feeling what he feels or if it's just an effect from the cold.

"Ugh," Chase dismisses, annoyed at how his heartbeat is still racing. He doesn't want to engage in this conversation anymore.

While Chase watches bitterly, Buddy's eyes slowly drift shut, his cocky deameanor gone and replaced by a weary yet peaceful expression. Like they weren't just hit with a surging storm outside.

Like they weren't arguing over the blanket a few moments ago.

Like he doesn't mind his close proximity to Chase and letting him see him sleep like this—all vulnerable.

Chase's bitterness fades and instead, he felt a pang of softness for the other boy as he scrutinizes the tired expression etched across his face, even though he can't seem to explain why.

It's getting dark now. The wind outside is howling and Chase still feels so cold. But Buddy is already asleep.

He scoots closer to him, ignoring how his head is slightly touching Buddy's chin, because the blanket isn't really doing him good any more. In this awkward position, he could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

For once, the idiot doesn't seem so threatening and irritating.

Chase is surprised at how warm the latter feels. He wished he could embrace him. Or something. But that's out of the picture, obviously. Why would he want to embrace OR be embraced by this guy? He blames the alarming thoughts on him feeling stupidly cold and his dying need for something warm.

As he tries to calms his racing thoughts down, he soon feels a sense of peace and ease wash over him.

Whatever. This will be tomorrow Chase's problem. For now, he relishes in the soothing warmth shared between him and his nemesis.

Not too long after, he begrudgingly falls into a comfortable slumber with Buddy breathing softly by his side, both of them enveloped by the soft blanket and the gentle heat that mingled between their bodies.

Which was, to be quite honest, enough to keep the both of them warm.

>>>>

im not sure how this went but i hope it was okay 😵‍💫😵‍💫 crazy this webtoon got me to write and do smth out of my comfort zone

[corpsebasil]

Modern!Prince Nikolai

because I know you filthy bastards are obsessed with him

AN: SEE MY MODERN NIK MASTERLIST FOR MOOOORE

Nikolai’s mother is losing her mind.

“I have incompetent sons.” Queen Tatiana, proud single mother and Queen of Ravka, scoffs, pacing around the vast parlor as she grumbles complaints. This has been going on for the past thirty minutes and the three younger royals are exhausted. “Incompetent!”

Nikolai’s eyes are shut as he takes slow, deep breaths, his mind racing. All he can focus on is you. You who won’t answer a single call; you haven’t in almost a month. You who he craves desperately, the news headlines on almost every source of media he has access to constantly screaming at him.

‘Commoner to Royal Lover: A Fraud’ was the first title he saw when he opened his phone that morning and the image of the two of you grinning at a camera, the photo having had been taken at last year’s Christmas party, made him so upset he ended up locking his door so no maid could witness him breaking down.

He feels nauseous every time he thinks of you or hears your name, his heart so broken by your absence that he thinks he might be losing his mind as well.

“Banned from North America.” His mother is saying, exasperated at her youngest son. She wags her finger at the brunet and glares, her cheeks flushed with annoyance. “Banned. And right before the Independence Day Ball, good God, Olly. I raised you better than this.”

The prince in question, Oliver, raises a dark brow at his mother. The boy is slumped dramatically in an arm chair with wide sunglasses on his face, his dark brown hair tousled in the messy, rock-star look he prefers. Nikolai pinches the bridge of his nose when his brother exhales a long plume of smoke, tossing his bright-red vape up into the air almost contemplatively.

^^^ this is Olly’s dumbass idc that’s how I see him fight me in the comments

“To be fair,” Oliver starts, grinning wickedly as he crosses one leg over the other, his Gucci loafers catching the light from the elaborate chandelier on the ceiling. “the President’s daughter was very welcoming.”

“Oh I’m sure she was. Now the White House wants you to give a formal apology for allowing the poor girl to be caught topless in a closet with you.” Tatiana rolls her eyes, running a hand through her blonde hair as she continues her pacing.

All Oliver can do is grin.

“You’re an idiot.” Nikolai’s youngest sibling, Jenna, huffs, sprawled out on the carpet in front of the fireplace, her laptop charging beside her constantly tapping foot. “You and your stupid antics. I for one would never be caught dead making out in a closet, especially not with someone like you.”

“She couldn’t resist me, my dear sister.”

“You’re wearing a leopard-print coat. I don’t know how she didn’t.”

“Maybe if you had better style you’d get girls too.”

“I have a girlfriend you giant dick-licking dumb—”

“Shut up.” Nikolai speaks for the first time and both siblings glance at him in surprise. He doesn’t usually take that tone with them. Not ever.

“Nik.” His mother scolds, eyebrows furrowed as she looks between the three of them. “That’s no way to talk to your siblings.” Even if they’re idiots, her expression adds, but the eldest prince can’t find it in himself to be amused.

“Neither of them have said anything of substance in over an hour.” Nikolai argues, rising from his seat. “Oliver cant go two weeks without causing an international incident, Jen somehow thinks she’s not a princess and can skip every state meeting ever, I’m so stressed out I can’t breathe and the love of my damn life hates me.” He runs a ringed hand over his face, eyes squeezed shut, and misses the sympathetic grimace on his siblings’ faces. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Nikolai, darling—” his mother starts, but he’s already gone.

-

That night he’s alone on the balcony when Jenna approaches him, crossing her arms to lean against the rail. Nikolai lets out a long stream of smoke and glances over, raising a brow at her pinched expression.

“I messaged Y/N.” She says, avoiding his gaze as she stares out at the vast gardens outside the palace. She picks at her nails for a moment—black polish chipped and practically gone—before giving her brother a side-eye. “She won’t answer my calls.”

“Welcome to the club.” He lets out a small, sarcastic laugh before taking another drag off his cigarette. The end burns bright red in the night air as he sighs, popping his neck from side to side. “As far as I’m concerned she’s never going to speak to me again.”

“That would be well deserved.” Jenna comments, then sighs aloud. “Jesus, Nik. A PR stunt? I thought everything was genuine. So did Olly.”

“It was genuine, damn it.” He grunts, putting out the cigarette before tossing her an annoyed look. “No matter what the press wants to say, I love her. I mean that.”

“Then what happened?” The princess’s brow is furrowed as she crosses her arms. “I mean, I thought you two were in love.”

“So did I.”

NEXT OASAART COMING YOPP

meant to say next part but I will not be changing it

[sixhours]

nightbird

The second time.

Rating: Explicit, 18+, it's pure smut. Words: 4k Tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, SMUT, Ezra is a menace and his own warning, Joel is bad at feelings but we love him anyway, stupid soft queer bois being queer, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, gay!Ezra, baby's first BJ, romance, denial of feelings, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Notes: Takes place between chapters 3 and 4 of i know you by heart but can be read as a standalone. It's just smut. <3

The day after, it’s almost possible to believe he imagined the whole encounter.

The song. The kiss. The fumbling against each other, the swift release that had him biting back a groan into his own arm.

But then he sees Ezra in the caf at dinner, exchanges a look, and the little smirk on the other man’s face sends blood rushing to Joel’s cheeks, his ears, his…other places. And when Ezra catches him on the way out–sans Ellie, thank god, she already ran off to stable duty, or was it the greenhouse? Jesus, he’s so damn distracted–they brush shoulders and Ezra leans in just a little too close. Close enough that he can smell him, close enough for him to hear a single word in that low, rasping burr.

“Songbird.”

The damn nickname, Joel thinks dully. It sparks something in him, draws him in like a moth to a flame.

“I…enjoyed your company the other night,” Ezra says carefully, aware of the crowd, their neighbors coming and going.

“Yeah, I…uh…yeah,” Joel coughs. “Me too.”

“I’m glad,” Ezra murmurs. “If you wanted, perhaps we could…spend more time together. Say…Tuesday night? I do believe our respective charges will be otherwise occupied.”

Joel frowns. “They will?”

“Wilderness survival training,” Ezra offers. “Night navigation, fire-building, sheltering, things of that ilk. Cee bemoaned the need for it, but I insisted.”

“Oh right, uh…yeah. Yeah. Ellie mighta mentioned that,” he huffs, running a hand absently through his hair.

So damn distracted.

“I’d…like that,” he adds, silently kicking himself. There was a time in his life when he had the kind of effortless charm that had girls lining up at his door, but age or the apocalypse or something unique to Ezra seems to have permanently tied his damn tongue, turned him into a bumbling idiot.

For his part, Ezra is undeterred. “My place? Say, eight?”

“Eight, sure,” Joel agrees, and Ezra is long gone by the time it fully clicks and the panic sets in.

What the fuck did he just agree to?

But there’s never a dull moment in their bustling little commune—there’s his usual morning patrol shifts to prepare for and Ellie has to be repeatedly nudged awake for school, there’s breakfast to make and new patrollers to train and Tommy wants to talk to him about some kitchen renovation they’re doing over at the Bison. When he gets home on Tuesday evening, sore all over from riding and in desperate need of a shower, an excitable Ellie has to be gently cajoled into eating dinner before she’s sent off with her friends and their instructors to spend a few hours “surviving” somewhere in the south quad.

As the pre-arranged time comes around, Joel wonders if he’s making a damn fool of himself, standing on Ezra’s porch in his cleanest flannel, his least-stained jeans. How the hell does this go? Digging into his memory produces no help. He’s pretty sure he wooed Tess by killing for her and that’s not gonna work tonight.

Ezra answers the door in his customary outfit—T-shirt, dark-washed jeans, damp hair with that strange lick of blonde shining at his temple, and Joel’s fears are quelled as soon as the latch clicks shut behind him. There’s a pause where they linger in silence and even Ezra doesn’t have words for the moment. So he gives up, leans in and captures Joel’s mouth with his and they’re right back on that porch in the cool night air like no time has passed.

It’s hungry and lush, the ghost of Ezra’s tongue teasing at Joel’s lower lip, eliciting a soft groan as Ezra’s arm wraps his waist and grips him tight until their bodies are pressed against each other. Ezra is the one to break the kiss, leaves Joel chasing after him, nipping, breathing hard.

“Shall we take this upstairs, songbird?”

Joel makes a wordless grunt of assent, barely remembers to take off his boots before following along. He dimly wonders if he’s an ass for jumping into bed with the man without so much as sharing a meal, but if it’s just fucking, maybe they should skip the pleasantries.

Ezra’s home is smaller than Joel’s, but cozier. The bedroom at the top of the stairs isn’t quite neat–faded green sheets are rumpled at the end of the unmade bed, a few clothes dot the floor, the dresser is cluttered with what looks like small tools and bits of paper. Ezra isn’t fazed, just as unapologetic about the mess as he is about himself.

Joel starts to close the distance, but Ezra gently presses a palm to his chest, resting there, heavy.

“Before we…continue…I think it might behoove us to disclose…certain things. As I understand it, prophylactics are in short supply–”

Joel frowns, blinking through the haze of arousal. “Proful-whatnow?”

“Apologies,” Ezra chuckles, ducking his head. “Cee likes to say I require my own personal translator. I tend to get…wordy when I’m…otherwise discomposed.”

He’s nervous, Joel realizes dully. Well, that makes two of them.

“I was tested,” Joel blurts out. “Back in the QZ. Been a while, but I only had the one partner. Ain’t, uh…been with anyone since. I’m clean.”

“Likewise. I…haven’t taken a lover in some time,” Ezra nods, clearing his throat. “I used protection and I was given a clean bill of health upon arriving in Jackson. You’ve met my most recent partner,” he huffs wryly, holding up his hand, lightly waving his fingers. “But I understand if you’re not inclined to take my word–”

“I believe you,” Joel cuts him off, offers a careful smirk. “‘Sides, if you’re lyin’, I know where you live.”

Ezra chuckles lowly, and with that, any residual hesitation seems to evaporate. He moves in with renewed confidence, sliding his hand up to cup the back of Joel’s neck, and the proximity has him leaning in unconsciously, a flower reaching for the light. Ezra tastes rich like coffee and whiskey and earth, a heady combination that makes Joel’s heart flutter like a bird in his chest.

“May I?”

Ezra is looking at him intently, and it takes Joel a moment to realize his fingers are hovering over the top button of his shirt.

“Uh–sure,” he swallows hard. “Yeah. Yes.”

This explains the T-shirts, he thinks. Too many fuckin’ buttons.

But he’s adept with the tiny, fiddly things. It’s a casual flick of his wrist down the line of Joel’s torso before Ezra is smoothing his hand around the back of his neck, pushing his sleeves down, and Joel has to lean back against the door for support because the touch on his bare skin is almost too much.

There’s a kiss to Joel’s throat, his neck, before he’s dropping the flannel to the floor and untucking his undershirt. Warm skin meets warm skin and Joel stifles a groan, but Ezra isn’t content to wait, eager as a child with a wrapped gift.

“Off,” he murmurs, tugging at the undershirt gently, and Joel complies without thinking. The cool air hits, tightening his nipples and sending a shudder of gooseflesh across his shoulders, and the sensation brings him back to himself for a moment, self-consciousness creeping in. His skin is mottled with scars and he’s thinner than usual, minus the softening of his gut that’s come with age. He has at least ten years on the other man, probably more, and standing half-naked before him, he can’t help but wonder with some apprehension what Ezra sees. An old man, probably. A life of violence and hardship and pain.

But Ezra is looking at him with dark eyes, frank admiration and desire plain on his face. He presses a kiss to the meat of his pec, a searing heat lapped into the divot above his collarbone until they’re pressed together again like magnets. The only thing holding him up is the door on one side and Ezra’s strong, lithe form on the other. He can’t find the wherewithal to move his own hands from their grasp on Ezra’s narrow hips, fingers flexing into the firm slope of muscle along his lower back under his T-shirt, unable to do anything more than simply hold on. He’s paralyzed by Ezra’s mouth, his hand that never stops roving, gripping, trailing and teasing, and he hasn’t even unbuckled his damn belt.

As if reading his thoughts, Ezra backs away and strips his T-shirt off in one fluid motion, then turns them, slowly backing toward what Joel hopes is the bed. It breaks the spell, and now he can’t stop touching him, can’t seem to let go of Ezra’s mouth with his own, can’t seem to stop himself from threading fingers through his hair, pawing at the button of his jeans, chest to chest, heaving breaths that aren’t enough. He’s dizzy, grateful when the backs of his knees hit the mattress and Ezra urges him down, never letting him go.

It’s been so long since he was touched with tenderness, his mind almost can’t comprehend it. The feeling makes him weak, lightheaded, and despite his throbbing erection, he thinks he could be satisfied with nothing but hours of skin on skin.

Or not, because Ezra’s hand is at his belt buckle, that familiar cinch and release sending a Pavlovian response that has him straining against his zipper. They’ve been here before, but not like this. A pang of anxiety as Ezra’s eyes mark him, study him top to bottom and Joel has to look away, the moment too intimate, too raw.

“My my…you are a beautiful man,” Ezra whispers thickly, tying Joel’s witless tongue.

There’s that sweet, lopsided grin, that boyish smirk, and Joel gives up on words and grabs him, fingers hooking behind his ribs, yanking him down until their mouths meet again, and again, and again, tongues colliding, sliding, vying for dominance. His heart beats a throb of want, want, want, and then he’s pulling at Ezra’s jeans and more clothes are shoved down and to the side, giddy as they fall into bed together, naked and roiling like a sea.

It’s Ezra who finally pins him down, urges him onto his back, sprawled and reeling from the attention, from the heat of his mouth moving over him. And it’s too sweet, so good, so long since he’s felt this particular sensation in anything other than his imagination and it’s infinitely better than he could have dreamed. He arches, gasps, grits his teeth and clamps his jaw shut. He’s used to taking his pleasure in silence, to biting back the sounds that stick in his throat, a holdover from so many years in the QZ where, even in one’s own apartment, it was best to keep what you had to yourself.

The man must be a fuckin’ mind-reader because he pulls off, places an errant kiss on Joel’s hip, tongues the sensitive skin at the juncture of his thigh, searching lower.

“We’re alone,” he reminds him.

And then his mouth is back, that slick, achingly sweet heat, lips and tongue and throat tightening around him in a steady rhythm. He doesn't know if Ezra is just that good or if it’s been so long that any water tastes sweet after a drought. He wants to tangle his fingers in his hair but a lingering shyness prevails, so he stills his hands by gripping the mattress, the pillow, twisting the sheets in his fingers–anything to keep himself from arching off the bed as waves of pleasure tighten his belly and send him flying toward the edge.

“Ez–fuuuuuck, Ez,” he pants. “Ain’t gonna last…if y’keep that up.”

“Oh, lasting is hardly the point,” Ezra says airily, licking his lips and pressing them to the tip, swirling his tongue under his foreskin, the jolt of pleasure so powerful Joel’s hips thrust without his permission. “This isn’t a competition, songbird. There’s no reward for denying yourself.”

Joel’s eyes roll back in his head when he takes him in again, deeper, single arm planted firmly along the ridge of his pelvis to keep his balance, and he allows himself the luxury of a low moan. It’s echoed back, Ezra’s throat constricting around him, and he feels the vibration like a heat-pulse in his spine. It’s a tightening coil, spark after spark after spark, waiting for the flame to catch and set him ablaze.

One heel pressed to the bed and Ezra just isn’t letting up, isn’t letting him catch his damn breath. He barks his name–Ezra, Ez, please, fuck–as the spark ignites and sends a throbbing rush along the length of his body, burning him up, melting him until he’s nothing but a mass of quivering limbs. Ezra is still latched on, lapping and sucking at his rapidly softening cock until he’s licked clean. His eyes glitter when he finally stops, that Cheshire-cat grin almost predatory as he crawls his way back up and plants himself firmly along Joel’s torso, kissing him until the room spins around them.

His hand strokes his cheek, thumb along the ridge of his cheekbone, so gentle it’s overwhelming. Just sex Joel thinks numbly, even as he feels the wet trickle of a tear escape the corner of his eye. It’s just been so long since he’s been touched like this, by something other than violence, is what he tells himself. Just sex.

Ezra lightly grinds his hips into Joel’s thigh, and then the anxiety creeps back in, a seed of doubt taking root as he realizes reciprocation might be the name of the game, and Ezra seems…experienced. Joel’s sexual history suddenly seems woefully inadequate. Past encounters with the same sex were quick and dirty and one-sided—always running from something, not toward.

“I’ve never, uh…y’know,” he gestures between them, feels his face heat.

“That so?” Ezra murmurs, settling against the pillows. “Well. You’re certainly familiar with the…mechanics.”

Joel snorts a soft laugh, shakes his head in faint disbelief. Part of him–the part still lingering from his life in the QZ–says he shouldn’t be so comfortable, shouldn’t feel so…at peace. Guard down, more vulnerable than he’s been in decades, and yet, Ezra’s body is warm, his hand tracing little circles up and down Joel’s spine and he can’t shake the feeling that he’s been seen.

So he kisses him, because he knows how to do that, at least. He rolls them, tastes him, hand to the back of Ezra’s neck to hold him in place, deepens the kiss until he feels his cock kick against his stomach. Joel reaches down, takes him in hand, gives a few careful, testing strokes. He’s thick, and for a moment Joel wonders what it would be like to have him inside, to take him in all the way until he’s full.

–

Another time, maybe. Hopefully.

Just sex.

He’s slow about it, calmer now that his own greedy pleasure has had its fill. He kisses his way down, focuses on the salt-tang of Ezra’s caramel skin under his tongue, exploring the marked surface of his body with his mouth until he can smell the musk of him, rich and heady and wanton, until his cock brushes his cheek and Ezra lets out a muffled groan at the contact.

“You’re…getting the idea,” he says, and Joel arches an eyebrow. He’s being teased, he realizes dully. Well, two can play that game. He moves away, nips at the soft skin of Ezra’s inner thigh, trails barely-there touches with his fingers and tongue until Ezra is squirming. He lets the scruff of his beard scrape against the sensitive flesh lower, moves back up to kiss and suck at his stomach, never landing where he’s most wanted. Ezra chuckles, a rich, low sound.

“I see you, songbird,” he whispers. “Turnabout is–ah, fair play, I suppose, I shouldn’t be so cavalier with my wor–”

Joel takes him in his mouth.

There’s a startled cry, breaking into a rough, drawn-out moan followed by what sounds like gibberish under his breath–or maybe French? Joel can’t make it out, there’s a rush in his ears as he takes him in, tastes him for the first time, too focused on keeping his teeth out of the way, on figuring out where to put his tongue.

“Off to a good start, then,” Ezra murmurs, strained, eyes locked on his as he takes him between his lips, a thick caress as he finds his rhythm. Salt on his tongue, pre-come slick at the tip, stroking that sensitive area just under the head before taking him deeper, deeper–

He gags.

Pulling off, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, blinking away the sudden tears brought on by the force of it. Ezra just blinks lazily at him over the muscled plane of his chest, the gentle paunch of his stomach, eyes glossy black with desire. “Happens to the best of us when we’re…eager.”

“That right?” Joel mutters, looks away, feels a prickle of embarrassment at the back of his neck, but Ezra’s knuckle is warm against his cheek, drawing him back.

“I like eager,” he rasps, and the last of Joel’s hesitation melts in the heat of their shared gaze. He narrows his eyes, licks his lips, and takes him in again, stubbornly resisting his body’s less helpful urges and opening his throat. He hears Ezra’s gasp as a distant thing, hopes it’s more pleasure than surprise. Sliding his tongue along the underside, swirling at the top, plunging back down.

“Knew you were a…quick study. Oh, fuck…that’s good,” he breathes. “Just…like that.”

So he does, just like that, until his jaw aches and his throat is raw, rewarded by Ezra’s increasingly desperate sounds, following them, chasing them, learning them–this touch, that pressure. Ezra grips the hair at the base of Joels’ neck in one strong fist and pulls, sending a pleasant shudder through his whole body.

“So good,” he coos, sucking a sharp breath in between his teeth. “Ahhh, songbird–Joel–fair…fair warning–”

He doesn’t stop. Maybe Ezra’s right about the whole “eager” thing, but fuck it. He lets Ezra spill in his mouth with a ragged groan, bitter earth slick on the back of his tongue, swallows him down and feels the heat of a flush, something like pride.

Ezra looks at him as he crawls back up the bed, blissed out, those long, dark lashes fluttering.

“Delicious,” he rasps into Joel’s neck, gooseflesh prickling where his lips graze the sensitive skin behind his ear. “More than…mmm, satisfactory…for a first attempt.”

“Ain’t as slow as I look,” Joel mutters archly, but he’s biting his lip on a smile. He can feel Ezra’s low, rich chuckle resonate in his chest.

The quiet draws itself out, taut, and Joel begins to wonder if this is the part where he’s supposed to grab his clothes and be on his way.

“We have a while yet before they’re back,” Ezra breathes, answering the question before he can figure out how to ask. He eases himself up on his right shoulder and Joel catches the hint of a grimace.

“Does it hurt?”

He’s immediately embarrassed. The question is somehow too personal—ironic, given he can still taste the other man’s come at the back of his throat—but Ezra glances at the stump of his right arm and shrugs.

“Mm, occasionally. Not tonight.”

His fingers trace the solid ridges of Joel’s ribs, still not filled out after months of walking and near-starvation. Then he’s caressing the soft thatch of hair in the center of his chest, sliding around to grasp at his hip, rubbing circles over his stomach. He never truly stills, as if he has to touch everything twice as much to make up for the lack of a second hand. Joel feels vaguely like he’s being studied, his body a new territory being mapped. He has the sense that this should be awkward–post-hookup shame nipping at his heels–but that strange ease lingers between them.

He takes the moment to do some quiet exploration of his own, studying Ezra’s face—the strong arch of his nose, the ridge of his brow drawn together in concentration, the plush pout of his lower lip. He wants to ask how he got that crescent scar on his cheek, the shock of white in his otherwise chestnut hair. He already wants this to happen again, not just the sex but the rest of it, too, but he’s afraid of what that means, so he pushes those feelings down and tells himself he should probably get going soon. When it’s quiet again, when their time is dwindling, Joel clears his throat.

“I, uh…think I’d like to keep this between us. At least…for a bit.”

Ezra considers him, tilts his head in a way that Joel finds endearing, like a curious puppy, eyes flashing. “Are you concerned this might tarnish your reputation?”

“I got a reputation?”

The other man grins. “You do. You’re stoic,” he says, mocking a pout. “Aloof. Brooding. Perhaps a bit frightening, in the right light.”

Joel snorts. “So ‘m scary?”

“Didn’t say I believed it. I’d hope that should be obvious,” he murmurs, nuzzling at the hinge of his jaw as if to prove the point. “You don’t scare me, songbird. I just wonder if your hesitation has its roots in your…family ties to this place. Your brother, your sister-in-law being on the council, couldn’t blame a man for being a mote gunshy.”

“Who I sleep with is none of their damn business,” Joel mutters. “Told you before, it ain’t like that. And it ain’t…‘internalized homophobia’ or whatever you shrinks call it. S’complicated, is all.”

Ezra makes a soft tsk sound in his throat, and Joel grimaces.

“S’just…it’s Ellie,” he murmurs. “She’s doin’ real good now, finally gettin’ along here. I can’t fuck that up, Ez.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Joel holds his gaze. “‘Cause it ain’t you. It ain’t…this.”

Ezra purses his lips in thought then rolls himself on top of Joel with a soft grunt, entwining their legs, his weight pressing him into the mattress. His arms wrap Ezra’s torso, fitting along the line of his shoulder blades like an interlocking puzzle.

“I believe you, songbird,” he murmurs, planting a soft kiss between his brows, drawing his nose along the length of Joel’s until the anticipation is almost too much. “In my professional estimation, your girl is a hearty sort. But I understand the need to…go slow.”

These last words are whispered against Joel’s lips before he’s kissing him, and for a long moment, there is just the weight on top of him and the heat of their mingled breaths and the not-unpleasant scrape of stubble against his chin and the solid mass of muscle shifting under his palms.

“That your idea of takin’ it slow?” Joel pants when they finally pull apart.

“Patience was never my strong suit, I’m afraid,” he chuckles, drawing a knuckle along the scruff of Joel’s cheek. “When I see something I want…I take it.”

“Christ, Ez,” he breathes, once again unable to form a coherent thought.

“Your secret’s safe here,” Ezra sighs. “I admit, I don’t entirely mind the thought of havin’ you to myself for a spell.”

Joel can’t say he minds, either.

Later at the door, Ezra tugs him close, presses a kiss to his lips that’s chaste, almost sweet. The lust has been temporarily slaked, but still, there’s the feeling of something underneath that initial rush, something leftover. Waiting.

Just sex, he reminds himself, rubbing an indulgent thumb over his lower lip.

Frogs chirp their evening song in the wet grass and a breeze licks at his already tousled hair. The air is crisp and fragrant and ripe with possibility.

He’s pretty sure he can see the group of kids milling about at the other end of the street, almost finished with training, and Ellie will give him the third degree if she sees him on this side of town. He steps into the spring night and ducks his head, thankful for the cool draft on his overheated skin, and heads for home.

[arminsesposa]

Vampire (Female reader x 1610! Miles Morales)

Bleeding me dry like a damn vampire

Yes this is based off Olivia Rodrigos New song, I’m incorporating some of the lyrics as well, lyrics in between and in red.

Miles flaking on you on your 1 year anniversary. You just want the truth.🦅

DO NOT COPY MY WORK,

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! :)

As you were getting ready for your 1st year anniversary date with Miles, you were remembering, all your special moments. From when he asked you out, to when you guys would watch movies at your house, or eat dinner at the Morales’s house. You truly loved that boy. Seeing him all the time, spending quality time with him, whether it was chatting or just cuddling and the way you would catch him stare at you. He made your heart flutter. Even despite what’s been happening.

I see the parties and the diamonds sometimes when I close my eyes

Lately, you realized Miles has been acting different. Its been killing you deep inside. You loved this boy dearly, only to have him show up 30- or an hour late to important events. The constant lies and excuses when all you asked for was the truth. You were tired of it and part of you wanted to snap. Keeping it deep down wasn’t helping as for you it was your final straw. It’s not that he didn’t love you, but he’s been ignoring you more often lately. You felt like like he’s been hiding something from you. Maybe an after school program he joined? Was it another girl? There is that blonde girl but… Miles wouldn’t. Would he? Those thoughts quickly passed through your head as you finished apply your makeup. Miles was the one to ask you out as he told you he planned something special for your anniversary. So maybe things will be better this time. You hoped.

I loved you truly, Gotta laugh at the stupidity

As you waited for Miles to pick you up, you stood there in front of your house waiting for him. You were dressed pretty fancy, as the neighbors who walked by just stared at you, you cringed deep down. You texted miles hoping he would answer but to your surprise he didn’t answer. 10 minutes passed by, as your legs grew tired of standing. Your older brother came to your rescue, as he offered you by dropping you off where you two were supposed to meet. “Maybe he has something planned for you” your brother said giving you a sense of false hope. You looked outside the window as the sun began to set. A beautiful mix of Orange and purple spread out throughout the whole sky. You had a slight smile as you remembered the numerous times Miles would bring you to his apartments rooftop. The conversations you guys would have up there. About college, life, the universe. Your brother snapped you out of fantasy as he parked his car and turned back to look at you. “We’re here”

Cause I’ve made some real big mistakes

As you entered the busy diner, it was full of romantic couples. Teenagers In puppy love, sharing a basket of fries, Sipping on a vanilla milkshake, as you made your way to the booth where you and Miles had your first date. As the server unironically on roller skates, came by and asked for your order which you politely denied. It was about to 7:30, as you rested your face on your shoulders as Miles was supposed to be there 30 minutes ago. You looked like an idiot. All these tragically in love couples having their most romantic date, as you sat alone in the booth. As you were about to give up your spot on the booth, Miles rushed in messy hair with a bouquet of roses and a polo shirt on as he sat across from you. “Hey” he said out of breath as he handed you the bouquet.

But you make the worst one look fine

The only thing you could do was stare at him as you quietly accepted the bouquet. “I’m sorry I just had to-“ Miles began as inside you snapped. You were tired of him constantly being late. Tired of him making up these excuses. Although he did plan this date, he still managed to show up 30 minutes late and had you wait like an idiot surrounded by all the couples. You wanted the cold hard truth. Although you felt like your heart was about to burst out of sadness you managed to cut him off. “Enough Miles” you managed to say in a whisper as he stared at you in confusion. “Baby what are you talking about?” miles asked in confusion. You felt like the whole diner was staring at you as you began to pour your heart out. “I’m tired of you always being late, tired of the white lies you tell me. I just want the truth. Who’s the girl? Is it that blonde girl you’re always with?” You said as your vision began to get blurry due to your tears. Miles reaction widened as he immediately shook his head in denial. “No baby, I promise you I would never-“ he pleaded. “I’m just tired, Miles” You said as you looked down, you felt your warm tears trickle down your face as you sniffled.

I should’ve known it was strange, you only come out at night.

Miles stared at you heartbroken. He didn’t know how much he was truly hurting you. With juggling being a student, son, Spiderman, and boyfriend, it was overwhelming for him. But he knew that didn’t excuse his actions. Miles felt guilty, he couldn’t tell you that he was Spiderman due to his fear, a villain taking you for hostage or even much worse. Miles didn’t know what to stay as he tried to hold you hand. “I’m not seeing anyone. You’re the only girl I want, the blonde girl, Gwen I can promise you Is just and only a friend” Miles said sincerely as he held your hand tighter. You stared at him with puffy eyes. “Why are you always late? I wait for you all the time, and I’m just tired miles. I want the honest truth now.” You state as you wait for Miles response. His heart drops, knowing that deep down he can’t tell you that he’s Spiderman. He doesn’t want to see you hurt. He would never forgave himself if something were to happen. As a quiet moment happened between you two, Miles spoke up.

I used to think I was smart, but you made me look so naive

“I’m sorry.. I truly can’t tell you. It’s for the greater good” Miles said as he looked down. He couldn’t even make eye contact with you. You looked beyond heartbroken. “Miles, you can tell me anything I promise. I’m here for you” you pleased with him. You just wanted the truth. No matter what it could be. You wanted to be by his side no matter what and whatever he needed to tell you. You were ready. Miles hesitated. He wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you how it all happened. The spider bite, the way he Because Spiderman, the countless times he saved people but yet he didn’t say anything. It was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. “I can’t. I’m sorry, you can’t know” miles said in a serious tone as he looked down. You were beyond angry, as you got up and threw the bouquet of roses at him and stormed off out of the diner.

The way you sold me for parts, you sunk your teeth into me

You were done. Your boyfriend, who you felt so loved and comfortable with him, not telling you what was wrong. You wanted to be there for him, but how could you help someone who doesn’t wanna be helped. As you stormed off, all the lovey dovey couples watched you storm off as Miles grabbed the bouquet and raced after you. “(Y/N), Wait! You don’t understand” Miles begged as you slammed the door. Tears were streaming down your cheek as you felt your heart rip in half. You felt the pain of your heart breaking, as you walked through the crowds on the sidewalk. The boy you loved the most, was lying to your face. You loved him too much, but this was something you couldn’t handle. As Miles tried catching you up, he grabbed your arm and pulled you to an empty alleyway as you glared at him. “What do you want!” You said as you cried out. This wasn’t how you thought your one year anniversary was going to be like. You know deep down you deserved better. “(Y/N), i love you, i really do and you don’t understand how hard this is for me” miles said out of breath as his hands hanged on his sides. “ I want to tell you, I really do, I just.” Miles paused. “I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you.” Miles said as he stared at you. He only wanted to protect you. “If you really care, then tell me. Tell me right now. Tell me why you’re always late for anything we plan. Why you’ve been making excuses. Where have you been all this time? Miles Morales, if you truly love me you’ll tell me right now” you declare staring at him making direct eye contact. Miles stays quiet. He can’t ruin your relationship. You’re the only person he can go too, someone he trusts and loves, but it was now or nothing. As miles stared down at the Bouquet, he remembers your first date. After getting the courage to ask you out during AP Spanish, he planned for you two to go to a nearby arcade, until a criminal robbing a nearby bank ruined the plans as the arcade shut down, Miles was disappointed, he couldn’t take you out but you two spent the rest of the evening at the diner, where you split a Oreo milkshake. Miles had to tell you. He didn’t care anymore if it was a risk, as he would be there to protect you. He promised to himself in thought as he knew what must be done.

Bloodsucker, FameFucker

“(Y/N), I’m…. I’m spid-“ Before miles could even finish you cut him off. You saw the guilty look of shame on Miles face as he looked down at the bouquet and it clicked. He was probably seeing someone else. The way his behavior was throughout the whole night and the way he kept avoiding the question, you weren’t ready for your boyfriend to admit he was cheating on you in an alleyway. “I’m sorry miles. I’m done. Talk to me when you get your shit straight” you cussed out in anger and sadness as you walked away, leaving miles alone. It struck him like a truck. He was too much in his head he didn’t realize he left you standing there like an idiot. All he could was watch you fade away as you blended in with the packed crowd. As you stormed off, you were tired. Tired of being lied too, tired of how long you waited for Miles to pick you up, only for him to be late. You were beyond devastated how your 1st year anniversary turned into a disaster. As you walked home with your makeup a mess, your eyes puffy from crying, you couldn’t get Miles out of your head. No matter everything that happened part of you still loved him. As you walked home, maybe it was your puffy eyes from crying, or the overwhelming feeling of being tired since you didn’t notice how colorful everything became all of a sudden sorta in a glitchy way, or how the walls began to look… different. In fact you didn’t realize, until you felt your stomach dropped as you found yourself falling through a portal.

Bleedin’ me dry, like a goddamn vampire

Maybe this’ll get a Part 2 💃🏽

[jillsc6rs]

I wish ✧

pairing ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ ashley graham x fem ! reader

warnings ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ angst , hurt no comfort , internalized homophobia (?) , dialogue heavy (?) , fem reader , if any missed - lmk !

a/n ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ ahhh!! first fic...not sure if im too confident in this (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠) !! rly hope u guys enjoy this...also inspired by an edit i saw !?

You and your girlfriend, Ashley, have been sitting in the comfort of your room. Just cuddling and watching some stupid horror movie that popped up.

"Why would she go back to where the killer just was? Does she have a death wish,"

you mutter. Ashley let out a soft laugh in response,

"I know right!? If I was there I would've been long gone!"

You nod in acknowledge, way too invested in this idiotic movie to reply verbally. Ashley then moves her hand to hold yours and the two of you interlock fingers. You smile. That is until you hear Ashley whisper,

"sometimes I wish you were a boy."

...What?

"What was that?"

In complete shock, you stare at the blonde. She realizes she fucked up and moves away from you.

"Ashley...you wish I was a boy? Wh—...Why?"

She curls in on herself, burrying her head in her knees. You reach out to her but hesitate. Would she even want you to comfort her? What does she mean by that? Does she not want to be with you anymore?

Thoughts running wild, you can't comprehend this. You shake your head, you voice having a hint of a laugh in it.

"Ashley, what's going on?"

"[Name], I just...I wish you were a guy. Then us being together wouldn't be that hard. I don't —"

You cut her off

"There's no shame in being with a girl... You should be allowed to be with whoever you want."

Her nails seem to have caught her interest.

"I'm the Presidents daughter. I have a reputation to uphold, both for me and my father. Can you imagine what his daughter being gay would do to him?"

You scoff.

"Really? You just care about your goddamn reputation? How selfish can you fucking be, Ash."

"Oh, like you'd understand."

Her tone harsh, it catches you off guard. Eyebrows furrowing, you begin to speak again.

"What if I understand or not? Who cares! Shouldn't your dad just care about you and how you feeling and not what the public'll think."

She sighs, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Staring at the floor.

"It's complicated, [Name]."

You sigh and shake your head.

"Just go home, I'm not in the mood to argue with you anymore."

Ashley looks at you, a look pleading with you to not send her out like this.

"Go."

She sighs and moves off the bed; begins collecting her things. You shut off the TV, turning your back to her.

"Could you at least walk me out?"

You shift, peaking over your shoulder and reluctantly sit up.

"Fine."

You slip on your sandals and walk her out. She turns around, a soft smile on her face. She tries to go in for a hug, you back up. Walking into your home again, not uttering a word. She starts her car, her heart heavy. It's her own fault, she has to pay the consequences.

You go to bed, ready to leave her the next day. Only if you knew she wouldn't be coming back that day.

This feels so rough 🙁...reblogs ++ comments appreciated ! n criticism

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2024–Day 12: The Yuletide Challenge (2/3)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Word Count: 1455

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian watched the gorgeous blonde walk away from him, her strides purposeful and decisive.  He grinned to himself as he finished his last shot, settled his tab and headed back to his lonely apartment.  When he’d left home that night, he’d hoped merely for enough rum to dull the ever-present pain and loneliness this time of year inevitably brought ever since it had happened. 

What he’d gotten instead was a lifeline.  Emma Swan may have believed she was (rather unwillingly if he didn’t miss his guess) fulfilling the requirements of her sister-in-law’s holiday project, but in a lot of ways, she’d been his savior on this cold winter’s night.

Five years past in early December, Killian’s whole world had crashed around him.  He’d had his share of pain and heartache throughout his childhood—his mother dying when he was barely old enough to remember her, his father running off and leaving him and Liam—but he also had joy.  He and Liam had been inseparable since the loss of their parents.  Liam had been the best brother any lad could ever hope to have—as much a surrogate father as a brother.

Then six years ago, he’d met the woman he believed to be the love of his life—Milah.  They’d had a quick whirlwind of a romance, and just before that fateful day of the accident, Killian had made up his mind to propose.

It was supposed to be a magical night.  Liam was in town for the weekend, and the plan was for the brothers and Milah to purchase a Christmas tree and decorate Killian’s apartment.  Only they never made it to the Christmas tree farm.  A drunk driver had hit them head on, killing Liam and Milah instantly and crushing his hand so badly it couldn’t be saved.

Killian took a deep breath as he opened the door to his bare, cheerless apartment.  It wouldn’t do to dwell on those painful memories any longer.  There was no going back, no changing what had happened.

Instead, he focused on long, silky blonde hair, jaded green eyes, and luscious legs shown to their full effect thanks to a short dress and high heels.  Emma Swan was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but there was more to the instant attraction he felt toward her than merely her beauty.  There was a pain and brokenness about her that called out to him.  A lost boy could, after all, recognize a lost girl.

Swan may very well plan to save him from holiday blues, but he sensed he may be able to perform the same service to her.  Perhaps while she worked to bring him Yuletide cheer, he could work to knit together the pieces of her broken heart.

For the first time in five years, Killian was actually looking forward to the holiday season.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Emma sat staring at her cell phone for long moments.  She’d gotten as far as unlocking the thing and typing in Killian’s number before she froze.  Why was this so difficult?  Killian was just some stranger in a bar she had to do 3 more good deeds for, that was it.

It wasn’t like she felt any kind of connection to this guy.  It wasn’t like she was considering a relationship or something with him.  He was just a hot guy she had to do nice things for.  That was it.

So why was her instinct to run going into overdrive?

Emma growled, calling herself every kind of idiot she could think of.  Just get it over with, Emma.  She’d do her stupid good deeds, and then Killian “Hook” Jones would be in her rearview mirror.

After another deep, cleansing breath, Emma pressed the dial button and then held her breath until she heard his deep, sexy “Aye”.

“Hey, yeah, it’s Emma,” she said quickly before she could talk herself out of it.  “You know, from the bar?  The one taking the Yuletide challenge?”

His low chuckle did things to her.  Things that were most definitely not PG rated.

“I assure you, darling, there’s no chance I would forget you.”

“Yeah, whatever, Romeo,” she said dryly.

He laughed again, and Emma found her lips ticking up at the sound in spite of herself.  “So, I figure I need to cross another good deed off my list, since it’s nearly the end of the second week of December.  So what nice thing do you want me to do for you?”

“Well….” he said, drawing the word out in a way that made her heart race.

“What purely platonic thing do you want me to do for you?” she amended hastily.

He laughed again.  That sound really should be banned.  But after a beat of silence, he seemed to sober.  “There is one thing, I feel I really should do, and having someone to help truly would be a kindness.”

“Yeah?  What’s that?”

“I…I need to put up a tree, decorate the apartment,” he said, a strange hesitancy in his voice.

“It’s December 15, and you haven’t put your Christmas tree up?!” she asked, incredulous.

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a beat…then another.  When Killian finally answered, there was a heaviness in his voice Emma didn’t understand.  “I’ve…not been able to face the prospect of Christmas, and particularly decorating, for some time now.”

He was in pain, Emma could hear that clearly in his voice.  “Look, if it’s too painful or whatever, we don’t have to…”

“No, Swan, it’s quite alright,” Killian said.  “I think perhaps it’s time I attempt to put the past behind me and find joy again in the season.”

“Well if you’re sure…”

“I am,” he said decisively.  “Meet me at Granny’s tomorrow and we can make arrangements.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian took a step back and looked up at the tree.  Twinkling lights, colorful ornaments, a star at the top, it was gorgeous.  “I think we did rather well for ourselves, Swan, if I do say so myself.”

“Hey, when I put my mind to something, I’m all in,” she said, surveying their handiwork.

“So I’ve noticed,” he said with a grin.  “I’ve never seen someone pursue a Christmas tree with quite that much zeal.  I do believe the Christmas tree farmer is still quaking in his boots.”

Emma laughed, the sound washing over him like a warm blanket on a cold night.  “What can I say?” she asked.  “The price the guy was asking for this stupid tree was highway robbery.  What kind of a good deed doer would I be if I let him soak you like that?”

“My wallet thanks, you, love.”

She grinned back at him, and his heart turned over.  She must have seen something in his eyes, because she immediately withdrew into herself.

“Well, anyway…” she said awkwardly.  “Good deed number 2 crossed off the list, right?”

He wanted to ask her to stay, ask her to have dinner with him, find some pretense, any pretense to remain in her presence, but he knew her.  Already, after only one afternoon and a few minutes in a bar, he could read her like an open book.  A serious declaration of his blossoming feelings for her would do nothing but make her run.  Far better to fall back on his tried and true innuendo instead.

“I’m afraid I can’t agree to that, Swan,” he said with an exaggerated wounded look.

She grinned, placing one hand on a shapely hip.  “Yeah?  Why’s that?”

“Quite simply because the decorating is not at an end,” he said.  “I’ve yet to hang the sprig of mistletoe I obtained at the farm.  I rather think it’s only good form of you to stay as I hang it, and then help me…christen it.”

She laughed, the joyous sound bringing a genuine smile to his face.  “Killian, you just never stop, do you?”

He shook his head.  “Why should I stop when my nonsense brings such joy to your face, love?”

She dropped her eyes, took a small step back, and Killian worried he’d put a bit too much genuine emotion into that last question.  “Swan…I’m sorry; I didn’t mean…”

She looked up at him, the smile on her face forced, unnatural.  “It’s fine.  Look, I’ve got to get going.  I’ll, um, talk to you later for the last couple of good deeds.”

Killian sighed as the door closed behind her.  Tonight hadn’t ended as he’d hoped, but as she said, there were still two good deeds left.  Two more opportunities to convince Emma Swan to take a chance on the feelings obviously brewing between the two of them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

NEXT CHAPTER->

[shippergirl-14]

Hii, even though this apps had been on my phone for months I have no idea how to use it, but here have a South Park one shot I wrote.

It’s Creek bc they are adorable and btw I don’t fluently speak English so I‘m sorry for any mistakes

Clyde isn’t always wrong

" I'm sorry, Craig. I don't feel the same."

Blue eyes filled with guilt and other undetectable emotions were glued to the snowy ground. Tweek bit his tongue, stopping himself from apologizing over and over again. He shouldn't be apologizing in the first place, yet the little voice in his head was messing with him. He knew exactly what this was about, so there was no point in feeling bad. Without sparing his classmate another glance, the blonde left him in the cold.

Craig hasn't even noticed that he was alone now. His heart was still racing from the adrenaline rushing through his veins. The loud beating reached to his ears, drowning out any sounds around him and it hurt. What hurt even more was the fact he had got rejected by the boy he had fancied for the past year.

How could he not like Tweek Tweak ? He was perfect and would remind the stoic boy every time he stepped into his view. Would he still smile at Craig whenever they passed each other in the hallways ? Would he still turn around in his seat to have a little chat once in a while ? Had he completely ruined his chances of getting closer to the coffee addict by confessing to him ?

" Yo, dude. How did it go ?" An arm wrapped itself around his shoulder and the face of his annoying best friend Clyde came in view. This had been his idea. How could he be so dumb and listen to Clyde ? " I got rejected", he stated bluntly, still in shock over this realization. " Wait ! What ?" The grin that graced the brunette's face turned into a frown. " You're messing with me. There is no way." Craig rolled his eyes.

" Better believe it. You were wrong. He doesn't like me." Jimmy and Tolkien, who were standing right behind them, exchanged a worried glance. " I'm sorry, Craig. Is there anything we can do to make you feel better ?", the latter asked, stepping closer. " It's fine. Just leave me alone for a bit", their friend mumbled, freeing himself from the tight grib of the idiot.

Craig wanted to kick himself in the ass for confessing right before school started. Now, he was stuck with Tweek for the whole day. It would be awkward. God, could he get more stupid ? Hesitantly, he dragged his drained body to the building, hoping this day would be over soon. You couldn't blame him for wishing nothing more than hiding under his space themed blanket and ignoring his problems by sleeping until he couldn't anymore.

Maybe he would even cry, but what use would that be ? Crying was pathetic and it wouldn't magically change Tweek's mind. Clyde had always told him, it lifted a heavy weight from his shoulders after bawling his eyes out, but there was no way he would ever take the crybaby's advice seriously.

The hallways were as noisy as every morning. How could kids be that active at this ungodly hour ? Craig didn't have the energy to flip the kids, playing football, off as he was walking to class. Spotting the familiar mess of blonde hair, his heart clenched and he averted his eyes from the hurtful sight that would always remind him of the pain in his chest. Of course, an angel like the blonde wouldn't like a rude motherfucker like Craig Tucker! How could he have possibly thought that it wasn't this way ?

Tiredly, he fell into his seat far in the back as soon as he reached his class. If he was lucky enough the teacher would leave him alone for the day and if Mister Garrison wouldn't he always had the option to show him his middle finger. Maybe he would be sent home, escaping this hell hole, however he would rather avoid his mother's wrath that would come at him for being disciplined again. Skipping wasn't a possibility either, therefore he had to suffer in silence the whole day.

Stretching out his arms over the small desk, he placed his head on the table, not able to keep it up. All his energy had left his body the moment his ears had picked up the pitying tone of Tweek's voice. " Crushes are stupid", he told himself while playing with the eraser that had seen more colors than his actual notebook. Did everyone have the habit of drawing on the white little thing ? Philosophizing about everything and nothing might keep his mind at bay.

Unknown to him, bright blue eyes were fixed on him as the owner was biting his lips in the same nervous demeanor excepted from him.

The loud noises of the annoying bell couldn't rip Craig out of his trance. Had his teacher tried to talk to him ? Was this the end of the first period ? Why did people tend to cling to the tiniest string of hope, even though it was pointless ? He had no answer to any of those questions.

" Yo dude, aren't you getting up ?" A hand shook his shoulder violently, trying to stop the boy from drowning in his thoughts. Blinking confused, the space enthusiast managed to sit back up in his chair, analyzing the faces of his three friends. " It's time for lunch, come on" Tolkien pulled the energetic brunette away from the shell that used to be his classmate. It was no secret how hard Craig had fallen for the paranoid kid, which was only further proven with this kind of reaction. None of them had expected him to be rejected. It was just so weird.

" Oh", was the only thing that left the ravenette's dry lips before he rose from his place and followed the others to the cafeteria. Why would he even come here ? His stomach refused any food and the seemingly tasty tacos on the tray, that's been pushed into his arms, wouldn't change that fact. " I'm not hungry." A sentence his group had ignored, informing him how important a healthy diet was and that he shouldn't skip meals.

In the end, his plate hadn't been touched and the tallest wasn't even listening to the on going conversation. That wasn't surprising. Tolkien couldn't bare seeing the usual unaffected guy so heart broken. Even though he would rarely agree with Clyde, he had been just as convinced as him that Tweek would reciprocate his feelings.

It was so obvious. Shy glances whenever Craig wasn't looking, bright smiles whenever they had a lively conversation, baked gifts that he claimed to be too much for him to eat. The blonde even was calmer around him ! What did they miss ? Were all of those things just their imagination ? There was no way.

In the corner of his eye, Tolkien spotted said blonde disappearing into the hallways and decided to follow him. Excusing himself from the table, he quickly jump to his feet and sprinted after the person that could give him clarity. Fortunately, he witnessed him entering the bathroom, which should be empty around this time. Without hesitation, the dark haired boy opened the door and called out, " Tweek !"

" Gah !", came in response. Only, after the name holder was able to recover from his mini heart, he backed away, eyes widened in fear. "

Ahh, what do you want ? Kill me ?" His blonde locks were the first victim of his anxiety outburst as he grabbed a handful and yanked it. He had been on edge the whole day.

" What ? No ! Why would I even-", the other yelled back defensive and surprised, yet quickly came back to his senses, " look, Tweek. I'm just here to talk to you." The words seemed to have an effect on his classmate, as he was loosening the grib on his hair and was more willing to listen. " You're not gonna kick my ass for rejecting Craig ?"

" No, I wouldn't do such a thing, but I want to know why you rejected him." Tolkien kept his distance, observing his every step. The way he was now biting his finger nails reminded him how uncomfortable the other boy was under his piercing gaze. " Gah ! Why are you looking at me like that ? This is too much pressure !"

The coffee addict didn't have a glue how to handle this situation. Why would Craigs friend stare at him like that ? Was he mad ? Would he actually kill him and was hiding his true intentions ? Why were they targeting him anyway ?

Considering the fact that Tolkien hadn't backed down, his best choice was to answer his question. " Because I don't like him." That was a good enough reason to not get together with someone, right ?

Something was definitely wrong here. Everyone was aware that the anxious teen struggled with holding eye contact, yet he would occasionally met his conversational partners' gaze. However now, his eyes were fixed on the dirty floor as if it was the most interesting thing on earth.

Then it finally hit him. " You're lying." There was no other explanation for his increased anxiety and fidgeting. The blonde always had trouble being untruthful as he was too worried about getting caught. Only one question remained, though. Why would he say he didn't like Craig if he clearly did ?

" Gahh ! I'm not lying ! I don't like him", Tweek yelled, facing his classmate for the first time since he entered the bathroom, " you can tell your friends, too ! I don't like him and I'm definitely not falling for your bullshit !"

" What do you mean ? What bullshit ?" The older male was beyond confused. Nothing the younger was spouting made any sense.

" Don't give me that crap ! I know exactly what you were trying and I'm not falling for it again !" He pointed a finger accusingly at Tolkien. " I know Craig doesn't actually like me ! He can stop pretending to be sad."

" Tweek, take a deep breath and listen to me." The rich boy cautiously stepped closer, avoiding startling the already freaked out kid. With a calm tone, he carried on, " I still haven't figured out what this is all about but Craig really does like you and he isn't pretending to be sad."

" How do I know you're telling the truth ?"

" Well, for instance, Craig sucks at acting. Do you remember that one musical in seventh grade ? That should speak for itself." He chuckled remembering the embarrassing performance of his friend, also attempting to cut the tension by joking. " He is also always looking at you and trying to get close to you, thinking he is sneaky, but it's actually super obvious."

" Oh", was the only thing that left the blonde's mouth, clearly trying to process this information. Suddenly, he gasped, breaking the silence. " Oh my god ! He really sucks at acting ! Does he actually like me ? Oh god, I'm so stupid. Why do I keep messing up ?"

" Woah, Tweek. Calm down." Gently, Tolkien placed his hands on the tense shoulders of the shaking male. " Can you tell me why you claimed to not like him when you actually do ?"

" I thought you were pulling a prank on me, but now I messed up badly and made Craig sad. He probably hates me now. What do I do ? This is too much pressure !" How could he be so cruel and accuse Craig of playing with his feelings ? Again, he had proven that he was nothing more than a paranoid freak.

" Just talk to him. I'm sure if you explain whatever had stopped you from accepting his confession he will understand." Tolkien smiled encouraging, hoping it would help to ease the other's nerves. The notification sound of his phone forced him to release his grib on Tweek and checked the noisy device. " Oh, Craig is leaving", he read the message of Clyde out loud.

" I need to fix this !", the anxious male stated, clearly not convinced of his abilities, yet he would do whatever it took to not have Craig hate him. " Thank you", he showed his gratitude to his classmate, running out of the door immediately, before his mind could tell him this was a bad idea.

Arriving outside, he quickly caught glimpse of a blue hat, whose owner was walking towards the bus stop. " Craig !", he called out, rushing over the fast he could. The ravenette spun around, not expecting to be adressed, far less from Tweek himself.

Regaining his composure, he crossed his arms and glared at the boy, that was bending over and panting heavily in front of him. " What do you want ?" He didn't mean to sound so pissed and make Tweek flinch, but he wasn't in the mood for talking. What could he possibly want now after breaking his heart ? Apologizing again ? No, thanks.

" I lied", his classmate blurted out between breaths, not providing any further explanation. " What's that supposed to mean ?"

" I lied about not liking you. I do like you", he admitted, feeling a bit relieved to have finally been able to confess as well. If he hadn't been so scared from the start he would have spilled his feelings. Another reason to hate his overthinking mind.

" What the actual fuck, Tweek ?!", Craig raised his voice in utter disbelief what he had just heard, " is this some sort of joke ? Dude, you literally rejected not five hours ago ! Why the fuck did you do that if you like me ?" On the one hand, he was furious. Did Tweek just wanted to make him suffer even more ? His classmate wouldn't intentionally hurt others, yet he couldn't be entirely sure at the moment. His words reminded him of the aching pain in his chest that he couldn't get rid of. Even though his admission might be fake, it made his heart jump. Nevertheless, he wouldn't let himself cling to the silver of hope solely to be rejected again.

On the other hand, he was confused. If his love wasn't unrequited, then why wouldn't the coffee addict accept his invite to a date in the first place ? His mind couldn't come up with any possible explanations, so he just kept on glaring angrily at the nervous boy, expecting him to deliver a really good reason for his behavior.

" I thought you were playing a prank on me and-" Tweek was immediately interrupted by the offended male. " Do you really think I would do such a thing ? Play with your feelings ? Do you really think I'm that kind of person ?" He couldn't even be mad anymore. He was just sad. His crush didn't saw him as more than a stoic asshole. That stung.

" No, no ! That's not it ! I'm always super nervous whenever you talk to me and then you suddenly confessed your feelings and I was like " no, Craig is way too cool to like you" and then I spotted your friends hiding behind a tree and then I panicked more and just blurted out that I don't like you", the anxious kid started rambling on. The words were leaving his mouth too fast to be understood, yet Craig magically comprehended the mess of a sentence. Only when a shaking hand reached out to yank at his hair, he dared to step closer and gently take the hand in his.

Ignoring his pounding heart and the warmth that washed over him, he interlocked their fingers, hoping to prevent the dreading panic attack. It worked better than he had expected. Even though Tweek was still trembling, he had relaxed his body the moment they had touched.

" You think I'm cool ?", Craig suddenly questioned, remembering what the other previously said.

" Of course, I do. You literally know everything about space and star constellations, you're so good at math and physics it's insane. You almost always keep your cool", Tweek listed merely a few things he admired about his crush, however he could go on for days. " I never thought anyone would consider this things cool", Craig responded bashfully, before regaining his composure and clearing his throat, " I still don't understand why you thought I would be pulling a prank on you and what it had to do with my friends watching."

Shifting uncomfortably under his gaze, Tweek bit his already abused lip. " Okay, I will tell you", he spoke quietly, eyes darting to the ground, " two years ago, I had a big crush on a regular costumer of our coffee shop. He would always strike a conversation and I thought he might have been flirting, as well. I was so obviously in love with him. It's embarrassing. One day, he was waiting outside for me and claimed that he wanted to tell me something. I failed to see his friends hiding behind a car"

Blue eyes were shut tightly as he inhaled to brace himself for the next part of his story. " He confessed and I was overjoyed, so of course I accepted. The moment, I said "yes", he started laughing with his friends joining in. He told me the confession was only a dare and that it was too easy to fool me. When you confessed this morning, I had flashbacks of this day", he finished his story, too ashamed to look at Craig.

" I know you aren't like that, but I'm always assuming the worst because I'm always so god damn anxious and annoying." The ravenette shook his head and squeezed his hand reassuringly. " You aren't annoying. Don't spit nonsense about yourself." His tone was soft and his eyes displayed the love he felt for the blonde. " and now I understand you better. If something like this had happened to me I would have been suspicious, as well. I'm really sorry that this asshole broke your trust. This dude deserves a beating."

" You don't hate me anymore ?", Tweek asked, still afraid that his crush might be still mad. " Tweek, I never hated you. I was just upset", Craig eased his mind with a small smile, " would you now like to go on a date with me ?" This time, the blonde didn't hesitate to answer, " Of course, I would like that. Tell me when and where." Both of them had a big grin planted on their faces as they we were gazing at each other.

" How about right now ? Let's go to the cinema", the taller boy proposed, giving the smaller one another heart attack as he started pulling him in his desired direction. " But what about class ? We're gonna get in so much trouble", Tweek interjected nervously, yet let himself be dragged by his ecstatic date. " Who cares. We're already too late anyway, so why not skip." The blonde was quickly convinced since he would rather spent time with him than listen to Mister Garrison talk. As long as Craig was by his side he would be fine.

Even though the day started out awful for him, everything seemed to have turned around for Craig. Maybe he should listen to Clyde more often ?

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Hii, if you enjoyed that you could always look at my other works on wattpad or ao3 ^^