#i prom- half a promise.

[gallapiech]

mickey headshot from my sketch dump lol

[dysaniadisorder]

what albums do you guys have on vinyl :) or cds if you use cds

[hehosts-moved]

the constant struggle of am i boring or am i just posting at the wrong times

[python333]

so sorry but no post today :(( ill try and post something tomorrow though—i passed out before i could finish the fic i was working on yesterday 😭

[lolliepops-rox]

i know it's been a weird week and a bit for me cos ive hit my post limit multiple times this week. something is wrong but idk what. maybe new blorbo brain rot???

[chmydarling]

about that quarry/werewolf au.. 👀

[sweetfushi]

HIS LOVE HABITS PT 1.

fluff, slight angst | giyu tomioka, obanai iguro, sanemi shinaguzawa x reader, mentions of guilt, crying, mentions of death | word count. 1.1k ◦ notes. watching the new season is making me feel nostalgic about the start of the anime :(

GIYU TOMIOKA.

Giyu shows his passion for you by spending most of what would be his alone time with you. He doesn’t always talk much during the times he’s around you, but he isn’t opposed to you talking. Giyu doesn’t mind where he is, as long as he’s with you and knows you’re safe - despite his underlying feeling of perhaps being incapable of protecting you completely. Thus, he sometimes feels guilty for wanting to spend time with you, but he compensates for that by allowing you to guide him - choosing where to hang out, leading most conversations.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like his alone time. You out of all people know best how much he indulges in silent reflection and meditation, but you’ve also noticed that he’d consult you for those things. He’d start using some of his silent reflection time to ask you questions riddled with guilt. He finds that you’re much like Tanjiro in your overwhelming ability to comfort people.

“You know,” you start as you’re walking alongside him, making your way to the noodle house, “I’m really thinking we need to change our plans. The owners know our orders at this point,” you grin, stretching your arms out.

“Supporting a small business doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” he retorts, plopping his hand on your head and ruffling your hair slightly. “Besides, that makes ordering our food quicker, does it not?”

You roll your eyes but are forced to agree.

Following that brief conversation, the two of you spend the next half an hour eating to your hearts’ desires. Giyu will pause every few minutes to remove the food items from your plate that you don’t like and add them to his with a small smile, both at your sweet voice thanking him and the sight of more food on his plate.

You’ll always require a sweet treat after your meal, whether that be a drink or more food, so you either head into town to survey the sweet stands or drop by Mitsuri to see if she has any stored - she typically does and you’re forever grateful for that.

All the while, Giyu will let you ask him question upon question, start conversation after conversation, all without complaints just to lengthen the time he gets to spend with his beloved.

OBANAI IGURO.

Obanai expresses his love through promises. They’re never empty ones and he makes sure you know that, sometimes even goes as far as gently pulling your ear to discipline your ignorance towards such. Sometimes the promises are of small value, such as promising to not eat your food or not start training without you. Other times, they mean the entire world, where he’ll promise that he’ll return from a dangerous mission or that he’ll not get injured because he couldn’t ever be so weak as to let a demon injure him fatally.

Every time he promises you something, the eye contact with him is almost intimidating. Obanai feels as though averting his gaze from you connotes distrust and uncertainty, so he always ensures to gaze into your apprehensive eyes when he speaks his truth. In moments of vulnerability, when you’re crying late at night because you’re certain tonight awaits his death, he’ll emerge from the Master’s room determined to fulfil his assignment and not evoke worry.

When he sees you in such a state, sniffling and averting your gaze, he’s convinced that you’re stuck in a cycle of paranoia and fear.

“Are you really so sceptical of my return? Don’t be so foolish,” he says, narrowing his eyes at your despondent state. “I promise I’ll return to you.”

You hear Kaburamaru hiss before feeling him graze your cheek with his face. You whimper and allow him to do so, only until you motion for Obanai to sit beside you. He does so without question and cranes his neck to look into your eyes, to which you turn away from.

“Have I ever broken a promise made to you?”

You swallow thickly. “No.”

He huffs. “So what is your concern?”

You shrug but, in reality, know what is bothering you. Instead of telling him, however, you lift your head to look at him and pout in an attempt to satiate your tears. “I’m going to kill you if you don’t come back, Iguro. I swear.”

You can’t see his mouth, but you know he’s smiling as he nods and presses a quick kiss to your temple. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA.

Sanemi shows his love for you through acts of service. Initially, you hadn’t noticed it, but you start questioning him when your katana appears sharper and cleaner, your uniform neatly pressed, and your food managed to suit your tastes.

“Have you only just noticed? I’m almost insulted,” he scoffs, gently smacking the back of your head only for you to groan and swat his hand away. “The swordsmiths are practically sick of me,” he grumbles, watching you admire the shine on your katana.

You grin and elbow his side, making him wince and shove you. “You’re so in love with me.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea from,” he teases, flashing you his canines as the two of you lean closer to each other, faces inches apart as your childish squabbling continues. Sanemi snickers as you attempt to maintain your scowl but inevitably fail at the close proximity, turning into loud laughter when you slump over and rest your head on his chest.

As a Hashira, the Kakushi already know you, but recently have appeared in near fear of your presence (despite being aware of your empathetic personality). At one point, you explicitly ask why the change in treatment, to which they respond: “Shinazugawa-san isn’t forgiving if your uniform is anything but perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“As in washed, pressed and perfumed.”

You pause, shock evident in your expression. “Uh,” you almost break into laughter, “you don’t have to do that, really. I’ll… have a talk with him, make sure he’s not bullying you.”

The Kakushi give you a pointed look, to which you nod and purse your lips. You mumble, “well, he’s getting slapped.”

Sanemi always ensures that the menu provided to the cooks that cater to you suits your tastes. However, you’re highly concerned with the fact that Sanemi thinks anything is obtainable through an arbitrary expression of power, but you have the advantage of being able to discipline him for thinking such without consequence.

“The Kakushi help us, not serve us!”

“That’s a very liberal way of looking at it– ow!”Sanemi groans at the punches you land to his chest, making him double over and eventually lay down on the grass with no attempt of fighting back. “Okay, okay, I’ll be nicer.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post. all that is included in this post, aside from the photos, fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[writingbyshiloh]

Third Time's the Charm

Request: Hii,if your request are still open can i request something for Gen V?Can you write something where Jordan and fem reader are childhood best friends and Jordan had always been in love with her but they feel insecure because they don’t know if reader will like them in both forms romantically?So when,in ep 3,Jordan dad goes like “Y/n and Jordan will be husband and wife” reader goes “Maybe we will be wife and wife”because she loves Jordan just like they are?

AN: Reader wants to be the first supe president (just to explain why they’re at the gala), I changed the timeline of the ep a tiny bit. I have another request about meeting Jordan's parents but that one might be more angsty.

CW: fem!reader, kissing, no beta, Jordan's parents are just their warning. The start is all flashbacks so I may have slipped on the tense a few times, no beta

WC: 2.0K

Jordan Li was your first kiss. Twice. The first time was in kindergarten, when they tried to kiss you and you smacked them with your Queen Mauve lunch box. Your second first kiss (the one you consider your actual first kiss) was done by you while playing truth or dare at 14. After picking a dare, you were asked to kiss the best-looking guy in the group. You shrugged and picked your best friend - Jordan. 

At age six, they were there when you broke your ankle trying to see if you could fly (you couldn’t). When you did get powers, they were the first person you told.

When Jordan came out to you as bigender, you did an internet deep-dive, trying to understand as much as possible.

Jordan listened to every interaction you had with your high school crush while quietly dying inside, wanting you to be happy. When your high school boyfriend cheated on you and then dumped you for the girl he cheated with, Jordan was there, ready to sink hours into their Xbox to keep you distracted.

The worst week of your life was when you didn't speak to Jordan for 9 whole days. You got into a petty argument where you called them self-absorbed and they called you clingy. The fight snowballed into yelling arguments and ended with you receiving a cold shoulder from Jordan. 

When Jordan got their wisdom teeth removed, you camped out in their room, snuggled under their duvet with them to watch Property Brothers for two days straight. You even made sure they took their painkillers on time and used ice packs.

Every fight with their parents, you were outside in your car ready to pick up Jordan to stay with you. Once you showed up at their house at 6:03 am, eyes blurry with sleep and still in pyjamas. Jordan was crying, bob haircut looked messy from sleep. You drove them to Vought-A-Burger, still half asleep and ate greasy breakfast sandwiches in your car until Jordan stopped crying. 

Jordan was even your date to prom, taking photos with you in their masculine form to get their parents off their back. Once their parents were happy, you snuck them back to yours, where you stashed their prom dress. 

You both even applied to God U together. Too nervous to check your acceptance, Jordan checked yours and you checked theirs. Sitting across from each other on your bed you both log in before giving the laptops to each other.

“Okay, three, two, one…” you counted down, opening Jordan’s laptop. Your eyes scanned for any promising words like congratulations, or welcome. "Accepted" was the first word your eyes caught but you need to fuck with them.

“Jord… I’m so sorry.” You start. Their face falls, and you feel like a dick for doing this. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. “That you believed me! Because you got in!”

They lunged across your bed to see what the screen says. You saw Jordan's eyes scan the same letter you just read, picking out the same words. 

“You’re such an asshole!” they told you, rolling their eyes, gently hitting your arm with the back of their hand

You’ve never been shy about showering Jordan with compliments. Saved in screenshots never to see the light of day, Jordan has kept some of them. 

You: OMG!!! Jordan you’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to call you my friend. 

You: You’re so handsome!!! I love your hair slicked back! If she doesn’t agree you need to drop her. 

You: ur a solid 9/10. Lost a point for not giving me a sip of your drink yesterday lol

Jordan Li has been in love with you since age 16. Probably earlier, if they want to admit that to themselves. You’ve only ever expressed interest in men so they kept their feelings to themselves, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, figuring it was better to have you as a friend only than not at all. 

In your first year, you were even roommates. While Jordan flourished in crim, you bounced between majors before settling into politics.

Every time you brought some frat guy to your shared dorm, Jordan died inside. Trying to get over their long-standing crush, Jordan did the same.

When Jordan made number 2 on the top five, you celebrate with them. Maybe a bit too hard that night.

You were there when their ranking dropped after the death of Brink. A man you only met twice, but you would do anything for Jordan. Especially given how hard you fell for both versions of them last year.

“I’m going to try to tag team with your dad, get some points for you and keep him engaged, yeah?” You ask over your shocker. Jordan is behind you, ready to help with zipper duty for your dress.

“You don’t have to.”

You let out a small scoff. “Dude. I’m doing poli supe. Schmoozing with rich people is like half our courses. Zip me up please.”

“How long have you known Jordan? You seem to be a good couple.” The man you and Jordan's dad suckered into a conversation asks. He's sitting beside Jordan's parents, while you and Jordan are on the edge of some fancy pit or table. 

“Well, these two have known each other pretty well over the years. Jordan tried to kiss her when they were kids, and she hit him with her Black Noir lunch box.”

“It was a Queen Mauve lunch box, actually.” You say with a laugh.

“And she called him ‘Jojo’ for probably the next two years out of spite.” Kayla laughs. It's a special embarrassment when your parents tell stories about your childhood. All the stories are about you but it's been so long ago you can’t remember any of it. Jordan looks worse off, slouchy posture against the banister, while you sit next to him. Part of you wants to tell him to sit up straight, but you figure you can play the grief angle better this way. 

“Oh, and remember when Jordan got his wisdom teeth out? You guys were inseparable. I think I still have the photo of you two passed out watching TV!” Kayla gushes, reaching for her phone to find the photo.

“We all thought you two would be president and First Gentleman.” Dad insists. Your smile is fake and tight, knowing if Paul pulls out prom photos, you would have to quietly fling yourself out of a window. 

Maybe you drank a bit too much liquid courage. Maybe the tension between them and their parents was getting to you. To give Jordan some space, you took their parents for a tour of your classes, knowing they’ll be talking to your family when they go back to Rochester.

Jordan shifting doesn’t even cause you to raise an eyebrow, the subtle sound just blurs into the background.

“Or president and First Lady.” You blurt out, four pairs of eyes darting towards you. “First supes in the Whitehouse? It would be political dynamite.”

“You like this version of Jordan?” Dad asks with bewilderment.

“Of course. I like Jordan because of how smart and driven they are. I like Jordan because of their weird sense of humour. It doesn’t matter what they look like.” you say, trying to prove it to their parents, but also to them. You’ve picked up on their crush many times, too kind to say something that would embarrass them or hurt them. It’s only recently how much you found yourself staring at fem Jordan and wanting to kiss her too. 

“I’m going to go and mingle some more.” says the man, Brad or Rob maybe. You forgot his name right after you met him. His words are like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. You don’t confess your feelings to Jordan just to Jordan, but in front of their judgy parents, and a possible donner. You need to go. 

You stand and straighten out your dress. 

“I’m going to go too. Other donors to talk to. Go Jordan!" You finish with an awkward laugh and even more cringy go team! gesture by yourself. 

You didn't lie to Jordan and their parents. You did go and talk to other donors but it twists your stomach every time you bring up how amazing their grades are, or how skillful they are at fighting. After donor number three gives you an answer that technically was “we’ll see” but heavily implied to be "yes for Jordan” you went to hide in the bathroom. You have enough battery left on your V-phone to keep it going for most of the night. Tomorrow you can talk to Jordan and hope you don’t fuck it all up. 

You barely look up when the door opens, already have done too much for the day to care who it is. 

‘Hey, can we talk?” You snap to attention at the voice. Of course, you know that voice. It's Jordan, still feminine presenting. 

“Fuck, Jord, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have spring that on you. I promise I’ll just go back and try to get you some votes, you’re going through a lot.” You say, in a rush to get the words out, desperate not to fuck up you’re friendship. The rim of the sink is hard against your back but you can’t help but shrink into it. 

“Did you mean it?” They ask, still keeping a distance from you.

“Yeah, of course, I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“No, what you said in front of my parents.” 

Oh right. Your confession. Fuck. It's already out there, might as well keep it going. 

“I may, uh-” you curse yourself for leaving your drink outside the bathroom, wanting something in your hands to stall. “-have a crush. On you. My best friend.” You twist your hands together, wishing Jordan didn’t look so pretty. If your heart beats any faster you may go into cardiac arrest. 

It's Jordan that indicates your third first kiss. It's gentle, and fast, like the second one. She pulls back quickly, but you run your fingers through her hair and pull her closer. The intensity from the first first kiss is still there, only this time you both share it. Her hand smooths up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek in a silent invitation to open your mouth. You comply, and tilt your head into her palm. Her tongue sweeps into your mouth and you can taste the champagne they were drinking. 

The sound of the door opening makes you both jump.

“Stall?” You ask, voice low and hushed. You squirm out from where she has you between the sink and her. You push the door open to the nicest-looking stall, desperate to keep kissing Jordan. They follow your lead eagerly, one hand wrapped around your shoulder to keep you near. 

Dipping their head, they softly kiss your jaw before moving onto your neck. You silently thank the other two women arguing in the bathroom so that your gasp goes unnoticed. Giving Jordan's hair a small tug, you pull them back up to you. The shit-eating grin they flash you makes you want to almost get caught again. 

Your free hand moves to their waist, trying to get as close to them as physically possible. 

You pull back slightly, wanting so desperately to get lost in the moment, but the commotion in the other stall is distracting. Plus you’re nosey.

Jordan frowns when you pull away, eyes scanning your face for something they did wrong. You shake your head and tip it over to the stall.

“The fuck?” They mouth to you, hand still around your shoulder.

You gently push Jordan against the door to give yourself space to squat down. You see two pairs of feet in the stall across the wall. You hear the voices quiet down, before the sound of someone peeing. You frown slightly, weird fetish to do at a memorial gala but you hear rumours about students into more fucked up shit. 

“We should get outta here.” You whisper to Jordan. 

“Weird place for our third first kiss.” Jordan whispers back. You reach around them to unlock the stall door. Third first kiss. You replay the words in your head, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. 

You gently push them out of the stall, trying to keep your laughs quiet as you both scurry past the other couple in the stall. 

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Pt.I: And I don't know what you're doin' tonight…

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: The feeling and flashbacks you get when you saw your high school boyfriend Jake Syverson at your 20 year reunion was quite the unexpected twist in your orderly life.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, body image issues, flashbacks, horny teenagers doing horny things (over 18 tho) heavy petting, fingering, mentions of teen pregnancy, mentions of breakups, teenage mean girl behavior, the Powerpuff Girls, old automobiles, mentions of drug abuse and difficult childhoods, 20 year high school reunion, drinking, swearing. Explicit description of sex acts. Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is the first installment of II Most Wanted. This is also my first fic in nearly half a year. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

June 2024

The visceral reactions started as soon as you entered the parking lot. There it was, Sy’s 1978 white Ford Bronco. Not thinking, you pulled into the space right in front of it, wanting to look inside. You almost lost it when you saw the old charm hanging from the rear view mirror. You couldn’t believe he still had that.

Especially with everything that happened since you put it there.

April 2004

“I claim this ancient truck as my throne!”

You were lit and in love, parked with Sy at the lookout. You were also silly and giggly from smoke and hormones.

“Mmmmm, careful Buttercup.” 

Your boyfriend growled in your ear, making you shiver against him. His attempt at menace was thwarted by the smile you felt against your neck, where he was busy marking you up, a sure sign later for everyone to know who you belonged to.

Sy was known for making bloody the face of those who expressed hate for his beloved Betty Bronco. But you had him whipped.

“It’s a classic, but I’ll let that slide...” 

He wished that you would let him slide, but you were adamant that you weren’t ready to be a parent. He was adamant that that didn’t have to be the outcome, but beneath the red blooded country boy was a gentleman. Sy would never do anything you didn’t want to, not that it stopped him from trying to convince you to admit that you in fact, wanted it as much as he did.

He wasn’t wrong.

You sighed as you placed the Powerpuff Girl necklace you got from Hot Topic on Sy’s rearview as you sat on his lap, giving him a treat. He had you in his grip by the hips and he was subtly moving you against his boner. The attraction between you two was heady, and he almost got what he wanted plenty of times. But you were a romantic and wanted it to be special. You promised him prom night, and Sy couldn’t wait.

“..Driving me crazy, Baby. You can put anything on my rear view as long as you let me get your rear view in the back seat….”

You giggled.

“You’re so corny, Sy.”

You whispered as you turned your head and kissed him over your shoulder. 

“Hmmmm. And you’re so sweet.”

Sy’s sea blue eyes gazed at you as he licked his lips.

He was crazy for you. And you were for him. You felt it. And you just knew you’d be together forever. You grinned as you climbed over him into the back seat. Didn’t hurt to fool around a little, even if you weren’t gonna give him the p that night.

——————

You shook out of the memory as a warm June breeze whipped your short skirt around your thighs. You pulled on the yellow and white designer dress as you contemplated driving back to your hotel and changing. This dress was not a good idea. The triumphant feeling of serving looks when you appraised yourself in the mirror was replaced with anxiety. The dress was too short and you were not the same size you were in high school. Thighs you considered pretty and thick in the mirror just an hour ago seemed massive and you tugged at the deep plunge of the neckline without a bra.

You sighed as you tried to center yourself. You told yourself that you were growing out of negative self talk, especially in the last seven years since your divorce. You were reminded of your promise to never care about the, male gaze again. It just wasn’t worth it.

But you hadn’t been under Jacob Syverson’s gaze in 20 years.

——

Sy posted up at the bar, blue eyes taking in the scene of his former classmates reuniting. He downed his two fingers of Maker’s Mark and asked for another. His heart rate was up as he scanned the room, eyes going back to the door again and again. He was waiting for you. No use in denying it to himself. He wanted to see you again, and more. It was his one objective. An objective he was unsure of attaining.

He was more nervous about being in a hotel ballroom tonight than in Afghanistan. 

Christ, he felt like that 17 year old kid again who first laid eyes on you.

——-

August, 2003

Sy knew what he wanted the moment he saw your face. 

You stopped the world when you first stepped into his British Literature class the first day of senior year. He was seated and talking with his best friend and wide receiver, Jeremy Atkins, when the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He let the conversation about which route they should run at the scrimmage that afternoon slip as his eyes lighted on your face. You were anxious, but trying not to let it show. Those eyes held fire, and your lips…

…well your lips besides being everything he dreamt of, he just knew the words that came out of your lips would light someone up as well. He could tell you had spirit by the way you carried yourself.

Your hair was wild and shoulder length, bangs swept aside for vision, and you couldn’t hide that body under your baggy clothes. He lasered in on the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath your graphic tee, and power that  the strip of skin between your shirt and your baggy jeans was not lost on him. He was a 17 year old male, after all.

Sy shifted in his seat as he leaned back and grinned to himself when you scanned the room, glaring at anyone who looked askance. He tapped his pencil on the desk to try to get your attention but you just ignored him as the group of seatless students surrounding you dwindled. You were left alone under the scrutiny of soulless cretins, otherwise known as teenagers. 

You gave each one brazen enough to stare at you a side eye, but you stopped when you finally noticed Sy smirking at you. You stuck your tongue out at him, causing him to choke on a chuckle.

Becca Ferguson, Sy’s girlfriend, kicked him in the leg after noticing that not only Sy, but Jeremy were openly staring at you. Shit, he’d forgotten about her. He caught the way her eyes cut over to you, and he knew what came next. He tried to distract her with a flip of the shelf of his blown out curls and a smile, something that had worked many times before. 

But you were a threat to Becca now; she had to do something about you.

You raised your head high as you walked to the seat that Mrs.Beatty pointed out. You passed down the aisle between Sy and Becca, who scrunched up her face as if she smelled something bad. Sy got a whiff of you and you smelled divine, like that Sweet Pea bath gel stuff that he played off sniffing when he went to the mall with Becca. 

His head turned.

Becca glared at him and he turned toward the front of the room, where the teacher had started to pass out the syllabus. 

—--

June 2024

Just like lunch on the first day of school at Central High all those years ago, Carla and Tiffani engulfed you and took you under their wings when you walked into the Marriott, the venue for your reunion. They crowed over you; your hair, your dress, your glow. You forgot any anxiety that you were feeling about how you looked. These were your best friends. Your Bubbles and Blossom.

These women filled the gaping place in your heart torn open from attending 10 different schools from K-12, following your mother’s loves and whims when she didn’t take her meds, or when she self-medicated. They were your soul sisters. And you still kept in touch even though distance separated you.

Carla had that grin on her face while Tiffani expressed her excitement that you were in town.

“Girl! I am so glad that you made it!” 

Tiffani was the gentle one.

“Yeah, I owe Tiff a c-note, because I was sure you’d chicken out.”

Carla laughed at you while you scowled at her.

Tiffani tskd at her bestie, and took your arm while Carla took the other and they ushered you through the doors of the ballroom.

“Well, she has a new job in town and everything, she had to come.”

“Yeah, she had to come to town, but coming tonight is a wholeeee different story.”

You laughed.

“I don’t have the job yet, Tiff. Interview is Monday. And why wouldn’t I come tonight?”

The familiar banter was back, as if 20 years was no matter at all between you and your girls.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you and Carla peered over her shoulder and then smirked at you. She jerked her head back.

“Because of that.”

You looked over your shoulder, smiling right before your stomach dropped.

There was Jake Syverson, all grown up, and staring at you as if all this time hadn’t happened.

—-

Sy saw you enter the ballroom and he almost wanted to run away. Being in country on a dangerous mission was nothing compared to the thought of actually facing you again.

At least he was trained for war. 

Love was another thing entirely.

He took a deep breath as he focused on you. You had always been beautiful, but now, as a grown woman, you were absolutely gorgeous. Your hair was sleek and your face was perfectly beat with makeup that accentuated your natural beauty. You were glowing and that smile was…everything.

As he leaned on the bar and scanned the rest of your body in that dress, he took another drink. Sy indeed felt 18 again, because his body was reacting as if he were a randy teenager. Your body was everything he remembered, and more. More of everything he remembered loving and lusting over 20 years ago. 

“Damn.”

He said it out loud and the bartender replied.

“Agreed, Brother.”

Sy looked at the young man admiring you who couldn’t be over 25, and threw down some money.

“Watch it, kid.”

That little bit of jealousy fueled Sy’s bravado, and he found the courage to step to you. 

—--

You froze like a deer in headlights. 

Over the years, you imagined seeing him again, in all different kinds of scenario, and you thought you could handle it, but the reality of the situation just about knocked you on your ass. Time stopped as you stared at him. 

Sy was more handsome with age, if that was possible. His eyes, his shoulders, his hair! His gorgeous curls were short and a shock of hair was growing from his chin. Your body reacted as your traitorous brain instantly thought of how his beard would feel on certain parts of your body. He looked good in a suit, but he was massive. You had on heels, but Sy seemed bigger than you remembered. He wasn’t the lithe high school quarterback you remembered.

You unconsciously walked closer. 

He was taller. 

But he was also huge: bigger muscles, thicker limbs; his body seemed more powerful all the way around.

Heaven help you.

And the way he was looking at you as if he still owned you, as if all everything that happened hadn’t happened. As if all these years…

Your arms went out to Carla and Tiff beside you for some support, but they were gone, and you stumbled a bit. Sy grabbed your arm quickly as you laughed to play it off.

“Hey Buttercup. You good?”

Goodness, his voice!

How could that damn drawl be deeper and sexier than you remembered? And his touch on your skin felt familiar, yet strange, like a touch from a dream. What was happening to you?

“I need a drink.”

Sy was silent for a bit as you got your drink and had a sip. The way you licked your lips made him want to fall to his knees and beg.

—--

May 2004

“Please, please, please Buttercup. Just let me put the tip in. I promise I won’t move. It wouldn’t really be doing it…”

Sy was whispering in your ear and you were mute, waiting to hear more as your pussy pulsed in your jeans, the grind against his crotch delicious torture.

“I dream about it, Buttercup. I feel you, Baby. So fucking wet for me. I just know that it would feel so, so so good. I’d slip right in.”

It was midnight on your 18th birthday and you were in the Bronco, letting Sy feel you up under your panties for the first time. Your head was thrown back and your eyes rolled at how good it felt. You didn’t know how you would hold out. But it was just three weeks until Prom.

You were sat on his lap and he had one hand down your jeans and one up your shirt.

He pistoned his hips up, causing your back to arch against his chest. You could feel his heart beating a mile a minute.. Sy’s voice lowered to a whisper.

“‘M Gonna taste my fingers, Buttercup. Watch.”

You opened your eyes as Sy pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth. You whined when he closed his eyes and moaned. You throbbed. It had never been like this before.

“You are so delicious… Need more…”

Sy pushed his hand back down into your pants to get you to do that arch again. It sent him feral to see that for some reason.

His fingers found the source and circled it, causing your body to tense up and your fingers to grab his arms.

“Oh my god! Sy!”

You’d come close to this feeling before just grinding with him on the back seat, but this was incomparable.

Your fingernails sunk into his forearms, creating marks for sure. This fueled him even more as he continued his ministrations at your core. He toyed beneath your bra and your mouth opened to seek oxygen as the feeling in your belly continued to tune you to a fever pitch.

“Yes…. Baby….. fuck… You gonna cum on my lap?”

“Hunnnh, hunnh, hunnnh!”

“You’re so fucking hot… I’m about to jizz in my pants… cum for me, Baby…”

Sy grinded against your bottom, and you stiffened while the world’s most wonderful feeling washed over you. You cried out as Sy pinched your nipple and you came, feeling as if the Bronco was caught up in the Wizard of Oz Twister. The world was certainly now in color when you could open your eyes.

Sy held you, watching your beautiful face as you pouted and came back to earth. When you did, your smile was worth all the gold in the world to him. He kissed your temple and slipped his hand out of your pants, sucking your juices off of them again.

You were about to jump him, but Sy interrupted your thought.

“Now that you’ve got a preview of Prom night, let’s get you home, Buttercup. Gotta get your beauty sleep for the festivities later on tonight.”

—-

Sy cleared his throat after staring at you silently for a solid three minutes. The way you licked your lips clean and focused on him was some powerful magic.

“So. How have you been, Sy? How is the family?”

You tried to keep any bitterness out of your voice. The fact that Becca Spurgeon ruined your prom (and your relationship with Sy) by announcing that she was pregnant with Sy’s baby after she was crowned Prom Queen and he Prom King was something you’d tried to get over for 20 years. 

Sy straightened up and looked over your shoulder. You glanced in that direction to see Carla and Tiffani hovering protectively. 

“Well, now Buttercup, that’s a long story. I know you want to hang with your friends. And I don’t know what you’re doin’ later tonight, but I would like to go somewhere quiet and talk about it.”

——

If you like it, hit Reblog!

Next part here.

[patolemus]

Sterek fic recs: High School AU Edition

In honor of my conversation with @darling-winnie about same age!Sterek, as well as my promise to @oldefashioned, here are some high school au recs!

1. Double Cherries (And 'Extra' Hoodies) by undercoverbastard

“No, no - wait - don’t tell me,” Stiles suddenly said, leaning forward and grinning at the boy directly on his right, eyes gleaming with joy and mischief as he spoke. “You want… a salmon burger, swiss, with fruit, and a vanilla shake. Eh?”

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Too bad! That’s what I’m penning you in for, Eyebrows,” Stiles said, scribbling on his notepad as he stood and began to walk away. Derek huffed, opening his mouth to give Stiles his actual order, but the only word he got out was ‘I’ before Stiles waved him off without even looking back at Derek or down at the notepad, stride unbroken, as he recited:

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

+.+.+

OR: alive hale family, alive claudia, and high school friends stiles/derek - all wrapped into one, based on a joke from a TV show i watched when i was 7, and then got wildly out of control!

Notes: adorable, I love their banter and the conection they have. Alive!Hale family is always such a treasure, and Claudia and Talia's friendship is great here. It's completed.

2. i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me) by bleepobleep

Derek gets in an accident and loses a few years of his memory; suddenly everything is different— he's not a freshman loser anymore, but a popular senior, captain of the basketball team, a shoo-in for prom king, too, and he should have everything he's ever wanted— except he doesn't seem to be friends with Stiles anymore.

Notes: Derek is not having a good time. Pookie just wants to be with his best friend but it turns out they're not best friends anymore and the world doesn't make sense because of it. A little angsty but it all works out. It's completed.

3. Don't Kiss and Tell by Hedwig221b

Paige has finally got the boyfriend she always wanted. The only thing is, said boyfriend doesn't touch her, doesn't kiss her and spends all his time with Stiles Stilinski. You'd think they were dating, or something...

Notes: When I tell you I go feral for this au every single time I read it! Hedwig has the best unhinged obsessive sterek fics and I'll swear on that, don't even try to change my mind. Poor Paige is definitely being led on here, and both Derek and Stiles are assholes in this one, but they're in love and they're completely devoted to each other, so it's okay (I know it doesn't make sense now, but it will. Trust). It's completed.

4. But Then What... by Stoney

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

Notes: Typical Jock/Nerd enemies to lovers only it's Stiles being incredibly paranoid and angsty all of the time lol. They both had me shaking my head because my babies truly don't know how to communicate, but we got there! Eventually. It's completed.

5. Just The Same by foxlavander

Something is seriously up with the captain of the lacrosse team. There's just no way Derek Hale is human. *** “I was wondering if you're even human. You move so quickly. I mean, it's ridiculously fast. No human should be able to move that fast, y'know? It's unfair for us. I mean, it's obvious you work out, and I don't, so that could be why, but like...I was just wondering if you were human, that's all.” “Stop talking, Stilinski, or I'll—” “Put me on the bench all season?” Stiles asks knowing full well that Derek Hale can't threaten him with shit.

Notes: This one is so good. Stiles is onto you, Derek! But seriously, they're so awesome in this one. And Derek bakes and he wants to open up a bakery and it's adorable. I love them and I love the Hales, everything is great. Look out for the werewolf reveal! It's completed.

6. The In Which Stiles Is Secretly Magic series by apocryphal

All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

Notes: The lore for magic users in here is honestly so good. Love the world building! The Hales are alive in this one as well, which for me is always a plus. A little bit (maybe more than a little bit) angsty but it ends well. There's a few things going on, but basically Stiles is basically Deaton's apprentice and there are Rules(TM) he has to follow as a magic user. He's pretty badass though! The series is technically not finished, but both parts in the series are completed.

7. cheer up, babe by graveltotempo

He was the basketball captain. And he was a cheerleader. Can I make it any more clear? OR: Derek Hale thought he had his crush on Stiles Stilinski under control. And then Stiles decided to show up to school in a skirt.

Notes: Derek spends all 20k words thirsting over Stiles, as he should. Stiles gets to wear a skirt and be generally awesome. They are disgustingly sweet together.

8. Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

Notes: This one is very sweet. There's insecure Stiles and absolutely lovely Derek. It's abo with Omega!Stiles and Alpha!Derek, and it's actually pretty wholesome. Derek is like public enemy number one of BHHS and a jock, Stiles is a loner, and when they turn out to be soulmates they have to navigate what that means for it. It has 13 out of 14 chapters, last updated in March of 2024.

9. too busy being yours to fall for somebody else by whiry

Stiles, worried that Scott may actually leave him behind because of his newfound popularity, is desperate to cling to something away from the drama of Lydia Martin's amazing parties and the woes of high school lacrosse. What he finds is Derek Hale, a guy who seemingly hates Stiles at first, but slowly, and insistently, becomes friends with him. As their friendship grows, Stiles starts to wonder if they could ever become something more or if pushing what they have will lead him to being alone for good.

Notes: Also very sweet! It's strangers to friends to lovers, and Stiles falls out of love with Lydia without even realizing because he's fallen in love with Derek. The Hales are alive in this one, yay! The way sterek bonds over music is also so good! It's completed.

10. Stupid Over You by Wolfspurr

It's a Friday night, and instead of enjoying any of the numerous things he'd rather be doing, Stiles has been roped into dinner with his dad at the Hale's. On the plus side, Derek Hale will be there. On the minus side, Derek Hale will be there, and Stiles already has a hard enough time not making an ass of himself in front of the hottest guy in school. There's no way this can end well.

Notes: Overall amazing fic! Stiles is his oblivious awkward self that we all know and love, Derek is completely smitten with him. All this wrapped up in a dinner with the Hales and the Stilinskis. That's it, that's the fic. It's completed.

11. Six Minutes by CosmoKid

“What do you want?” Derek practically grows when Stiles is near enough to hear. He can definitely feel the werewolf vibes coming from the guy as well as the fuck off vibes that roll off him in tsunami-sized waves. Stiles has one thing he needs to say to Derek, but he also has eight million questions to ask him about the werewolf thing and he can barely sort out his thoughts as it is, let alone when there’s a ridiculously attractive werewolf who’s basically Adonis staring at him. Derek takes another drag of his cigarette and raises his eyebrows at Stiles expectantly. He shivers and blurts out, “Six minutes.” That makes Derek smirk, but it’s so condescending that even Harris would be impressed. “No offense, Kitten,” Derek starts and Stiles just narrows his eyes at the nickname. Derek keeps his eyes trained on Stiles as if to dare him to challenge the nickname. Stiles bites his tongue and resists it. “But you’re not really my type.”

Notes: This is not your typical high school au, but it's a nice change of pace. It's got werewolves, which we love, and bad boy Derek. Stiles stood no chances lol. It's completed.

12. The covalent bonds series by HaldFizzbin

Awkward Nerd Derek has been crushing on Handsome Jock Stiles since forever—so getting paired with him on a Chemistry project is definitely the best/worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Notes: I went on a little Nerd!Derek and Jock!Stiles fixation the other day so here we have it. Derek is awkward and funny and insecure and we love him. Stiles is Stiles, and he's awesome. The series is not finished, but all the parts of the series are complete.

13. It's Always Been You, Dumbass by stilinskisparkles

“Alright, cool, we should go,” Stiles says breezily, dusting off his hands as he stands. “We should?” “Yeah!” “But… Do you even care about photography?” “Not as much as I should,” Stiles plants both his hands on the table, bracketing Derek in, “You’ll have to correct my miscreant ways.”

Notes: Stiles is helplessly pining, Derek is painfully oblivious and the absolute last to find out. Somehow, they still go on like three dates together. It's pretty great, and it's completed.

14. can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time? by whirl

There's something strange about Beacon Hills. Stiles can't really put his finger on it, but the way certain classmates look at him at school and the way certain adults look at him in the grocery store has him curious. And it's not the sort of pitying looks that his mom's coworkers used to give him, but these ones are longer, more searching, like they're looking for something. Not to mention the weird noises that sometimes come from the woods when he runs, too human to be animal and too animal to be human. Plus the way the Hales have seemed to sequester themselves to the wild and give Stiles serious Cullen family vibes. But Stiles, like everyone else apparently, ignores it. Until it becomes too great to ignore and he has to investigate for himself and find out what is actually going on in Beacon Hills. +++ Or, the one where Stiles and Derek meet, hate each other, slowly get to know one another, and fall totally head over heels for each other all while avoiding curious classmates, an angry ex-girlfriend, and, oh yeah, imminent death.

Notes: This one is kinda crazy but in a good way! It's 120k words long so be prepared for that, and Stiles finds out about werewolves. Derek, pookie, I'm rooting for you all the way! Also Cora, my beloved. I adore her. Stiles is pretty confused all the time for a while there. It's completed.

15. scary stories and roasted goods by graveltotempo

“I have more, you know?” grumbled Jackson, clearing his throat. “Okay, fine. Here’s another; a man goes is staying at a hotel for the weekend. On his way to his room, he notices a door with no number on it-” “An albino woman with white skin and red eyes committed suicide in that room years ago,” finished Erica, inspecting her nails with a smirk. “We know that too.” “A babysitter goes to put two children to sleep in their room and notices a large creepy clown statue in the corner-” he tried again. “Get out of the house, we don’t have a clown statue,” said Allison, tried to hide a laugh at the flustered expression on Jackson’s face. “Two roommates in a room. Sarah says that she wants to go to a party and Mary wants to stay home-” “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn the lights on?” said Derek, and Stiles laughed, looking at him with sparkling eyes. OR the cheerleading squad, the lacrosse team and the basketball team go camping.

Notes: Another cheerleader!Stiles and Jock!Derek. I love them your honor. It's all very sweet and Derek pines as he ought to do lol. Don't worry, there's light at the end of the tunnel. It's completed.

That's all I have for this one. I probably have more in my TBR but I guess we'll find out. If I ever get there. My sterek TBR only ever grows and I never seem to be able to finish fics as fast as I find them lol. Hope you guys like these!

[indecisivemuch]

Foolish Ones

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: What if...there is a Prom at Camp Half-Blood? Aka, a story where the both of you are just blind fools who finally crossed the line between friends and something more (best friends-to-lovers, angst, fluff, pining, a lot of longing, lowkey jealous luke, HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!!!)

Note: Not proofread thoroughly. Idk, thought it would be funny if Prom was a thing at Camp Half-Blood. Sorry for the long break, I've been really busy but Easter break is coming soon! Inspired by a couple lines from "Dress" by Taylor Swift.

Word count: 3.8k

Despite the abnormal life of being Demigods, campers still buzz in excitement at the announcement of a prom happening at Camp Half-Blood. Never would they think that that would be a thing. But now that they knew it was an upcoming event, talks, gossip and bets started infiltrating every corner of the camp — who do people think would ask who to prom, who would reject who? After all, they were all still teenagers.

There was one thing that neither you nor Luke knew: the bet with the leading amount of participants was on the two of you. Some theorized he would take up this opportunity to finally confess his feelings and ask you to be his prom date. Some people bet that you would be the one to do the asking. Others claimed they had zero hope because it seemed like you two had been dancing on this line of something and nothing for too long that they could not remember when it started. 

Now, where to even begin on you and Luke. You were his first friend at camp. Despite the fear of opening up after the Thalia incident, it somehow felt so easy when it came to you. Then came your five years of friendship, and somewhere in between, glances turned to looks of longing. It became so evident that if you were to ask any campers about it, they’d have something to say — perhaps theories on when this all began or speculations on when the two of you would finally cross the line. Yet, somehow, the two of you were the only people who did not know of this slow-burn mutual pining.

The announcement of Camp Half-Blood’s Prom was in April, with the date of the event happening mid-May. You have rejected two prom date offers solely due to a pinch of hope that your best friend would ask you. You were hoping all his little actions that you sensed as things beyond the line of friends were true. But as time ticked, your confidence slowly diminished.

It was now the beginning of May, and that slight hope that Luke would ask you has now been reduced to the size of a grain of sand.

“I don’t think it’s gonna happen, Clarisse. Prom is two weeks away,” you sighed, hands on both sides of your face.

“Well, why don’t you ask him instead?”

“I would have…but by now, if he has not asked me, that probably means he is not interested, so I don’t see the point in doing so myself.” Gods, it was slightly exhausting for Clarisse to watch the both of you pine after each other for years only to stop right at the boundary of stepping into something. She watched as you sunk into some kind of self-spiraling moment. It was evident on your face that your brain was trying to convince you that Luke only felt platonic things. Sometimes, she believed you both must be utterly blind to not realize how the other felt.

“Well, I think—” Clarisse stopped when she saw you look behind her, mouth slightly agape with a shocked look. She smirked at this, almost letting out a breath of relief that Luke finally asked you to be his prom date. The girl turned around to face the sight that you were looking at, but she almost jumped upon seeing what was behind her. “Oh…?” The response left Clarisse’s mouth before she could think twice.

There he was, standing with a singular rose in his hand and a nervous look on his face.

“Y/N, will you be my prom date?”

The whole area was silenced. You were convinced other campers could even hear your thoughts in this deafening quiet. Gods, you could even feel their eyes glued onto you like hawks waiting on their prey.

In front of you was a boy from the Hermes cabin. Honestly, you did not even know his name. You just remember seeing him around occasionally. 

No, it was not Luke.

A short laugh left Clarisse’s mouth before she could stop herself, but she quickly did upon seeing you look in her direction. But to Clarisse, it was obvious, especially when you and Luke have had this long history of mutual feelings that everybody could see — Surely, the boy knew better. You have even turned down two others —

“Yes, I’ll go to prom with you.” Murmurs among campers came as soon as you said those words. You swore you heard gasps as well, though you ignored it as you stood up to take the flower from the boy’s hand. You gave him a half smile while deliberately ignoring the confused look Clarisse was sending you.

Somewhere between realizing there were merely two weeks before prom and getting asked out by this Hermes boy, your brain has prompted you to say yes. Your mind finally convinced you no good would come along with crushing on your best friend, not when he was not interested in you, and neither were you planning to be a fool to wait around any longer. Maybe getting asked out by other guys were signs you should move on. 

You could feel your heart aching and screaming at you to take your prom proposal acceptance back, but you ignored it. You have made up your mind. You knew moving on would hurt, especially after liking Luke for such a long time, but you deemed the pain as a necessary part of the process.

Little did you know, in the corner of the same area, stood a frozen figure.

Luke was standing still where he was emerging from with his breath stuck in his throat. His heart sank at the sight of what he had just witnessed. The boy's eyes fluttered as if hoping he could blink away the sight before him. However, as the situation sunk into his bones like claws digging and ripping through his skin, Luke let out a chuckle of dejection. 

“Luke?” Chris called out. Though upon seeing the sheer look of sorrow on Luke’s face, Chris tried to comfort his friend, “Come on, you can—”

“I can what? It’s too late, Chris. I took too long...” The Hermes cabin counselor looked down at his and Chris’s hands. He blankly stared at the poster he had made yesterday, the bouquet of your favorite flower that he had hand-picked for you, a box filled with gifts, balloons and photos of you two. 

If only you knew Luke had spent the last month preparing this prom proposal. He snuck out of camp multiple times to buy the things he needed, including hunting down the items you have always talked about. He wanted it all to be perfect because, to him, you deserve nothing less. Hence, it took him so long to ask you to prom…too long. 

Luke shut his eyes and let out a deep breath. He shook his head before deciding to hand everything to Chris, who was spilling out words of encouragement. However, realizing they were useless, Chris stopped. His eyes widened when Luke muttered at him to just throw away all the stuff that was now in his hand. Before he could object or change Luke’s mind, the Hermes cabin counselor had already vanished to clear his mind. 

Left alone, Chris looked down at all the stuff in his hand and sighed — Oh, you two were blind fools.

For the next two weeks, camp seemed duller from the lack of interactions between the two of you. The bet among campers was nullified since no one had bet that either of you were going with anybody else. They were so sure the two of you were meant to be.

Just like the rest of camp, you have felt off. You haven’t seen Luke since the day that boy asked you to be his prom date. It seemed almost like your best friend had been avoiding you, though you ruled it as his counselor duties filling up his schedule, especially considering prom was tonight, maybe Luke was helping with setting up the event.

You made your way back to your cabin to get ready, though you felt uneasy because of a negative feeling looming over your mood. You remember being so excited for prom when it was first announced, even anticipating it would be the night you had the most fun in your life. Yet, here you were, foot feeling heavy while heart feeling disconnected. You stopped in your step as you spotted a familiar figure, and the feeling that was weighing you down lifted slightly.

“Hey, stranger,” you could not bring yourself to say his name because you knew doing so would make your own heart tug. His name has somehow become part of your vocabulary — a word so endearing that it warmed your heart and brought a smile to your face every time you said it. You knew learning to unlove him would be a hard task, but not having him around felt was also daunting, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy with counselor duties,” being best friends meant being able to pick up the slightest of signs that something was off, and you could hear the alarms ringing in your head. You started picking your nails but stopped when you saw him eying your hands. Curse his ability of knowing you too well.

Luke’s eyes softened at your nervous habit. He wanted to hug and comfort you over whatever unease you had, but the boy knew that would do more damage to his heart. To be so near you and knowing you didn’t like him that way. After all, you rejected two guys before agreeing to that one specific boy. Surely, that must have meant you thought the guy was cute or something.

“Oh, well…” you paused before quickly blurting out, “I’ll see later, then?” You could hear your brain scowling at your heart. You wondered if you seemed desperate.

Meanwhile, Luke felt his heart soar at the thought of you wanting to see him, yet at the same time, it ached. He felt pathetic, really. But nevertheless, he was willing to take anything you were willing to offer him, even if it was just a small glance his way. 

Luke wanted to mock his own heart sometimes, calling it sadistic because how could it want you so badly that it was willing to hurt itself doing so? Yet, deep down, the boy knew if crushing his own heart into pieces would bring a smile to your face, he would do exactly so. Gods, you were going to be his demise.

“Yeah, see you later, Y/N” he answered, and you quickly waved him goodbye before entering your cabin and going towards your bed. You sat down on your bed, feeling the mattress sink while your heart also did the same slightly. Something has changed between the two of you, and you hated this awkwardness looming around.

Your eyes landed on the dress you bought a month ago. Your eyebrows scrunched whilst trying to ignore how your heart was aching.

It was in Luke’s favorite color. 

~~~~~~~~

Shawn, your prom date was a nice guy. He gave you a flower and said you looked pretty, and you thanked him before complimenting him back. Then, the two of you joined others around the campfire, swaying along to the music while engaging in small talk. You tried your best to ignore the feeling that was weighing down your chest. Though, you could not help but zone out from whatever Shawn was saying.

Luke hated knowing Shawn and knowing he was not at all a bad candidate for you. However, Luke also hated knowing he could be better than Shawn and could offer you so much more if only he had done so sooner. 

You looked ravishing tonight. Luke felt as if he had been bewitched at first sight. You left him stunned and speechless. Every inch of you left him mesmerized. 

Oh, your dress was in his favorite color. His heart leaped at that as his eyes lingered on how the fabric hugged your body. It’s been an hour since you arrived, and Luke’s eyes have not left you at all, as if they were made just to look at you and nothing else. Even with the music and conversations around him, he could only focus on your occasional laughs and murmurs. He sighed in longing at the thought of having you in his arms as the two of you danced the night away, leaving this one night branded in his heart as one that would redefine his life. Instead, here he was, a spectator rather than the lucky one. 

Luke looked away, trying to breathe out the envy that was overfilling every organ in his body. The boy knew he was to be blamed for the anguish he was drowning in, but he still despise the situation. Luke felt his chest was hollow like an empty glass frame with only his crumbled heart hanging up to be displayed, and worst of all, everybody could see it. If he could, he would abandon his Demigod life to go build a time machine. 

Oh, the despair of losing something and someone he never had. Maybe your acceptance of Shawn’s prom proposal was Aphrodite telling Luke to move on. However, that was the last thing he would ever do. He’d much rather love you in the dark forever instead.

You have re-painted his notion of love and rearranged his understanding of it. Now, whenever he even remotely thought of the word, he could only seem to think of you. Luke could not fathom thinking of anybody else ever when thinking of love.

Luke turned back to where you were, hoping to steal one last look before leaving the event. He thought that maybe this was it. Perhaps it was time to forever close the door on the idea of ever letting you know of his feelings. However, his heart quickly hitched when he saw that your eyes were already on him — those eyes that could talk him into doing anything. 

He wanted to turn away, he really did. But how could he be the first to break eye contact? Gods, you were his Achilles heel, and forever would you have him at your disposal, even if your heart does not belong to him.

His mind started rewiring. You hadn’t stopped looking at him, and the expression on your face was enough to spark a speck of hope in him. But like always, anything related to you would spread through his heart, mind, and body like a wildfire that he never had bothered to put out. 

Before Luke could think about it, his foot took him towards you and through the bodies of people dancing. By the time he reached you, he was not sure if it was the campfire or the nerves that were heating up his cheeks. 

“Can I steal Y/N for a second?” Luke spoke as Shawn spotted him. However, the second Shawn saw the look on Luke’s face, something seemed to click in his mind. He turned to you next, and that was when he knew it was time. There was no competition here, at least from Shawn’s point of view. There was a love story, and it was clear as day who you were meant to end up with. Part of him knew of this even before asking you out, yet he wanted to give it a shot anyway. But it was time for him to step away, and Shawn did it without much bitterness. He nodded and patted Luke on the back before walking away.

One of your favorite slow songs started playing, and Luke smiled when your eyes glimmered at that. Luke felt that heavy feeling in his heart lifted for the first time in two weeks. He never realized the extent of it, but just seeing you happy was enough to make him feel the same. You mirrored Luke’s smile, letting out a small sigh of relief when noticing he was no longer distant. Gods, you missed the way both his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and that’s how you knew he meant it. You were elated at the thought that maybe things are returning to normal for you two.

“May I have this dance?” Luke offered a hand to you. There was something so sincere in his voice that caught you slightly off-guard. Though, you brushed it off like always, still convinced that your best friend did not see you that way.

Before you knew it, the two of you were swaying while giggling along with the song. You almost snorted from the jokes Luke was whispering in your ears while Luke would proudly smile at himself when you playfully hit his chest from his cheeky comments and remarks. You both swayed to the music that was slowly fading away. He softly leaned his head on yours, closing his eyes with contentment as he caught the smell of your perfume, which would always linger behind, leaving traces of you every time you departed.

The song finished, but Luke’s feet continued swaying despite the silence between songs. He would dance until his legs deteriorated if that was the only way to keep you near him.

Oh, to have you but not have you. It felt as if somebody had cut Luke’s heart open and sprinkled salt on the wound. It hurt him, but nevertheless, he looked at you like you were the only one that he could imagine himself being with. His eyes lingered on every detail of you, swallowing them whole as if he intended to make you the subject of all his paintings, like an obsessed artist.

“Luke?”

Luke closed his eyes briefly as his breath quivered at the sound of his name on your lips. You said his name, and his world just stopped. It has been a good two weeks since he had heard his name from your lips, and it suddenly reminded him how much of a desperate man he was when it came to your words, your touch, your looks, and everything that had to do with you. He was utterly defenseless.

“I don’t want you like a best friend,” Luke breathed out before he could think twice. Realizing what he had just said, he decided right then that he wanted you to know everything. He wanted to let you look into his heart and understand it has always been yours.

“What?”

“I want you—I want to be yours,” he spoke, tripping over his words as his mind spun around what to say next. There were too many things he wanted to say, and he desperately wanted this moment to be perfect. 

“I really, really like you, Y/N,” he spoke, hoping it would send the exact message he was trying to convey. “Like in a hopeless and irrevocable way… it’s driving me insane.” He added, his voice slightly shaking, though his heart burned when you didn’t reply. 

“Please say something,” he whispered, any bit of courage he had earlier evaporated faster than he could imagine.

Your mouth hung slightly agape at his words. His words has seemingly took all your breath away.

He wanted you. 

You almost laughed at how pathetic it was that both of you had been sulking the whole night over something that could have been avoided if either of you had the guts to speak up. Just an hour ago, you were so determined to get over him. Yet, here you were. This moment felt like having your dreams come true and unsure what to do with it. But deciding enough time has been wasted, you wrapped your arms around his head and pulled him down towards you.

Luke met you in the middle. His breath trembled slightly as your lips met his. He immediately put his hands on both sides of your face, caressing it ever so delicately like he was holding a national treasure in his hand. The boy felt his angst melting away, heart tangled in his throat as the moment rendered him speechless. If he could pick one singular moment to remember in his next life, this moment would be it.

You giggled as Luke unintentionally whined quietly when you pulled away. You mirrored his actions and set your hands on the sides of his face. Your thumb rubbed his face before uttering, “I like you too…” You watched as a grin grew on his face, and you mirrored it, quickly adding, “In fact, I think I like you a little too much.”

“Gods, you don’t understand how much I like you.”

“I’m sure we’ll have time later to find that out,” he grinned at your words.

The sound of someone whistling pulled you both from your little moment. Turning both your heads, you saw Chris with a big folded piece of paper, balloons, flowers, and a rather big box. Luke let out a chuckle in disbelief. He was grateful his friend did not follow his words and threw away the items. 

You watched as Luke left your side for a second to grab the box and muttered something to Chris. The other boy unfolded the paper, and your eyes widened slightly at the sign.

“I was gonna ask you to be my prom date, but Shawn beat me to it,” Luke approached you with your favorite flowers and the box, opening it to let you peer in. When your eyes landed on the things in there, your heart almost melted. Some of it was your favorite treats, a small photo album of the two of you, and gifts you always mindlessly said you wanted to have. Some were hard to find, and the thought of him going out of his way to hunt down these items warmed your heart.

“It’s too late to ask you to be my prom date now…but I do have another question I want to ask,” you looked up at him, and the way he looked at you right at that moment made you realize you were screwed forever because nobody would ever measure.

“Will you be mine instead?” Luke watched as you smiled at his words and took the flower out of his hand.

“How could I ever say no to you?” you pulled him in again, and Luke, once again, sank into the kiss like an addiction he welcomed with open arms. 

Oh, you were the best thing that ever happened to Luke, and he was never intending on letting you go.

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

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[multific]

Obsession

Vincent De Gramont x Reader

Summary: He had one obsession, you.

Vincent liked the finer things in life.

Food, drinks, clothes, cars our houses, it didn't matter.

To him, quality was the most important.

He became so rich that now he was at a point where he didn't even have the time to spend it. 

He was obsessed with fine things. He loved his suits, had a nice collection of only the best.

He was obsessed with cars, old-timers and newer models both parked in his garage. 

Vincent was obsessed with his job, it gave him authority, something he always craved.

But lately, his obsession was you.

You being just a normal woman he saw one day, he was confused as to just why he found you to be so enticing.

There was something about you, something he couldn't quite figure out.

He found it weird how a man of his status found himself completely taken by a simple woman.

He wanted to know everything. He needed to know everything.

And he needed to have you. 

You were quick to learn that Vincent wasn't the sweet Prince type. Oh, far from it actually.

He was dangerous.

The moment you met him you knew this. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up as soon as you saw him. 

He was a walking red flag. 

But just why did you not run? Why did you find yourself intrigued by him? Why did you say yes every time he whispered sweet things into your ear? 

And just why did he have to have that sexy accent?!

The man was a walking red flag, yes, but aparently you were colourblind because you ignored it all. 

He was rich, elegant, sexy and dangerous. Truly an awful mix but what could you do?

Your first date was on top of the Eiffel Tower, he rented the entire thing out, just for the two of you.

You tried to figure out if he was romantic or if he just knew how to woo a woman. 

Maybe both.

Because when later that night, he dropped you off at yours, he kissed all the way from your shoulder to your neck, making you see stars as he whispered 'You are mine' in the most possessive and sexy way a man could.

Your insides were screaming at you, both from fear and arousal.

Why did he have to be so handsome on top of it all?

It would have been so much easier if he just rude but no, of course not, he had to be a gentleman.

It wasn't until a couple of months of dating that you saw his scary side.

One late afternoon, you went to his office while he was on the phone, he failed to notice you as he yelled into the phone the scariest things one could hear.

Promises of torture and a slow death, his gaze and body language said it all, he wasn't lying.

When he was done, due to anger he smashed the phone to the ground and this is when he noticed you as you jumped a little. 

Your eyes locked with his as he cursed at himself in French.

You long forgot why you were in there in the first place.

"I have never seen you so angry, Vincent."

"Mon Amour, I'm so so sorry that you had to see me like that. I prom-"

"Do it again." you said cutting him off as he suddenly froze. 

He didn't expect for you to say that, you didn't expect to say that to be fair. He thought you would run and hide or yell at him to never ever look for you.

But you didn’t.

"Something about the anger, you are always so collected and calm for most of the time. Even when you saw the guy flirting with me at the bar, you have never even raised your voice."

"Did you find it... exciting?"

"Yes." your answer was simple and immediate. “Do it again, Vincent.”

“Mon Amour,” He smirked, he knew you would be perfect.

Vincent truly found his other half in you. His obsession turned into love but his possessive tendencies never faltered. 

Even if you were only a simple woman with a boring job, you had no idea of the power you held in your hands, you had the great Marquis wrapped all around your little finger.

And on the other hand, you had the most expensive diamond wrapped around your ring finger.

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ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[sadesluvr]

Hi, if you're fine with it could you write doctor!William and patient!fem!reader and William fucks the reader in her hospital bed after lying to her about something. What it is, up to you. Happy holidays!

A/N: Thanks for the respectful ask Anon! Happy new year!!🎉 The irony of this was that the day before I got this req I’d literally read a fic for another fandom that was similar to the concept lmao. I’m sorry it’s taken a while, thanks for being patient! :)

WARNING: Reader is a little naive, or has amnesia (You chose). Below the cut will contain dub-con, manipulation and abuse of power. Minors DNI, and read at your own discretion. 

“Dr Afton…Am I going to be okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart. You’re under my care after all…”

You’d come to Dr Afton a few weeks ago, concerned with the fact that you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. You’d tried essential oils, music, even pills - all to no avail. Now, not only could you not sleep, but you were even more tired than before, becoming no stranger to headaches and irritability.

William had almost cum in his pants when you’d come back to him, eyes heavy and on the brink of tears; desperate and pleading for him to ‘fix’ you. In that moment, he almost felt bad that he’d given you stimulants, the same given to people who suffered from narcolepsy.

Today you were lying flat on the sterile medical beds, face up as your legs were spread in stirrups. Dr Afton had requested you to take off your underwear, and your pussy was exposed to the cool of the room. You were a little embarrassed, but luckily a sheet was draped over the bottom half, so you couldn’t see the man’s face.

“What is it?” you asked slowly, hearing as the man clicked his flashlight off. He sighed and hummed, and you’d come to know that it wasn’t one of promise.

“Forgive me for asking, sweetheart, but…How many sexual partners have you had?” he said, clearing his throat.

You swallowed.

“Um…One?” you said unsurely, biting your lip. “It was a while ago…On prom night,”

“Hm,” William said, and the corners of his lips twitched into a smirk. He didn’t know how you’d made it through three years of college without sex, but he was certainly glad. “I think I’ve found the source of your problem…”

“Really?” you squealed, and William adjusted his glasses in anticipation. Even though he’d locked the door, there was still a risk. If a nurse was to try and wander in, it would certainly ring alarm bells. He’d have to make this quick.

“Uh-huh,” he sang, and you were pleased to hear the glee in his voice. Dr Afton took his job so seriously! “Sweetheart, the source of your insomnia isn’t from the head - well, not directly - but your hormones. Most specifically, your endocrine system,”

“Oh,” you said. You remembered that stuff from high school. But how did that have anything to do with sleeping?

William sighed.

“The secret to a good night's rest is simply through achieving orgasm. You haven’t had sex in four years - and I assume you don’t masturbate - and your hormones are all messed up because of it. Upon reaching orgasm, we release oxytocin - the happy hormone - which in turn makes us relaxed, and then sleepy. Not to mention the physical movement that comes with sex,”

You were in shock. How could it have been so simple? How were you going to start having these, let alone every night so that you could sleep?

“Dr Afton, I –”

“No worrying about it, darling,” he hummed, beginning to shush you. “I’ve got just the thing…”

He was oh-so quiet as he zipped down his pants, his already hard cock jutting out of the hole. Taking off his gloves, he gave himself a few languid strokes before placing a hand on your knee, peeking over the cloth to get a glimpse at you. You were staring up at him with curious eyes, squirming slightly under his cold hands. It was different without his gloves.

“I’m just going to run a few tests, okay?” he smiled, blue eyes wide and sparkling. “It may hurt, and it might feel a little uncomfortable, but it’s going to help, okay? Call my name if you want something, alright?”

You nodded.

“W-What is your name?” you said, suddenly shy. Calling a doctor by their first name felt strangely intimate. 

“William,” he said, nodding at you before he disappeared back under the sheet, placing his hands on your thighs to signal for you to spread them apart. As you did, he lined his cock up with your entrance, taking a moment to rub his nub; pink and leaking with precum, along your folds. He let out a low groan as he felt you tremble.

“Just one of my tools, baby,” he assured you. “Don’t worry, it’s sterile, of course,”

You shut your eyes and scrunched your nose at the feeling. Whatever William was using was warm, slightly sticky and thick, yet it was making you feel good. You felt your thighs begin to quiver in anticipation, a hot, pulsing sensation rushing to your privates, in turn making it easier for William’s tool to glide across your pussy.

He hummed at the feeling of you growing wetter. Slyly, he placed his thumb onto your clit, beginning to rub it in circles as he pushed his head into you without warning, making you gasp. He hissed as he sank deeper into you, hands gripping the styrofoam of the chair, his body looming over you slightly. He could see the top of your face, eyebrows furrowed to the ceiling at the strange sensation, your lips slightly parted and wet. He longed to be able to kiss them; to hold you a little closer as he took all of you, but time was of the essence.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he smiled. “Almost there…”

He grumbled, choking back a moan as he bottomed into you, glancing down to admire your skin-on-skin contact. You were so fucking tight, and wet, that he was surprised he hadn’t broken you - much more he cum right on the stop.

“W-William…” you moaned, covering your mouth at the whorish sound. “It’s — The tool…It’s big…”

“Does it feel good?” was all he said, and he smirked as you nodded, a small whine escaping your mouth as you did. The man chuckled and adjusted his glasses. “This is gonna put you to sleep baby, I promise,”

He withdrew his hips before slamming them back into you, your head lolling against the rest. The sudden pressure was alarming, but it felt amazing, and as if a miracle had taken place you could feel your body relaxing already. Your breasts moved with the contact under the plastic garment, and you reached up to cup them, in turn making you feel even better. William grinned, watching in awe as your pussy took him completely, keeping up with the frantic movements from his greedy thrusts. He wished you were a virgin, that he could’ve popped your cherry right there and then, hugging and comforting you at the fact that you’d bled. Still, you only having one man (boy was the far more accurate term) was far better than two, and he could tell that you moaned and gripped him that this was what you were missing in your life. Desperate to bring you to your peak, he rubbed your clit eagerly, the feeling of his throbbing cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly bringing you to a point of overstimulation. Your raw nipples rubbed against the material of your gown, creating a friction that both pleasured you and made the nubs harden further, practically displaying themselves for William. A thumb on your clit turned into an index finger in your pussy, gently moving against the man’s own base. William’s grunts, the filling, yet rhythmic sensation and the build up of tears in your eyes at your sheer emotion was building up to too much.

It was bittersweet agony when you came. You didn’t know for how long, but you knew you blacked out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as your chest heaved and legs quivered. For a moment, William was nothing, just a figment of your imagination, but a wet, sticky sensation filling your cunt and dripping down your thighs brought you back to life.

Your limbs felt lifeless, eyes heavy, and a warm feeling spread across your body. Dr Afton had been right all along.

“I hope you feel better, sweetheart,” he said, words nothing but a jumble in your brain as you came down from your high. “Do note that this is only a temporary fix – I’ll need to see you in three days for an immediate checkup. From there, we’ll need to work out a year-long schedule. It’s imperative I monitor your progress.”

[solarmorrigan]

“That’s it?” Steve asks. “You’re not going to go to prom because you don’t know how to dance?”

“I’m uncoordinated enough! I don’t need to be out there making even more of an idiot of myself in some floofy dress,” Robin insists.

“Rob, no one at prom knows how to dance. Everyone kind of looks like an idiot, that’s half the point,” Steve says.

“Oh yeah, Steve, you’re really selling me on the experience,” Robin drawls.

“No, listen, I’m not done,” Steve says, giving her a nudge. “The other half of the point is just… going and having the memories, y’know? You get to dress up and take the dumb picture with your date, and avoid the punch because someone probably spiked it, and you get to dance and be close to someone and just, like, be carefree for a night.”

Robin says nothing. She doesn’t agree that prom night is paramount to the teen experience, she doesn’t tease the shit out of him for having such stereotypical expectations of a dumb high school dance, she’s just… watching him. She’s turned sideways on the sofa, one leg drawn up to her chest, and she’s looking at him like he’s something between a fascinating puzzle and the saddest thing she’s seen all day, and he knows what she’s thinking.

Steve hadn’t gone to senior prom. He’d been planning to, of course, at the beginning of the year – he’d had Nancy then, and even as early as October, he’d been fantasizing about the flowers he’d bring her and the dinner they’d go to and the way they would sway slowly to whatever shitty songs the DJ put on. But by the time spring had rolled around, he not only hadn’t had Nancy, he hadn’t really had any friends in school at all—not real ones—and so he hadn’t seen the point in attending.

He'd gone to a movie with Dustin that night, instead (he’s at least eighty percent certain the little shit had set it up as some kind of pity outing, since he’d known Steve wasn’t going to prom, but it had been kind of nice that someone had cared enough to even try). It hadn’t been bad, but it hadn’t been exactly what he’d wanted.

Stiffly, Steve glances away from Robin and shrugs. “Or whatever. That’s what it’s like in the movies, right?”

Robin opens her mouth, but her eyes are still soft, and suddenly Steve doesn’t want to hear what she has to say. Instead, he levers himself up off the couch and turns to her, holding out a hand.

“C’mon, I’ll teach you,” he says, cracking a grin. “Then you won’t have an excuse not to go.”

“You… want to teach me how to dance,” Robin asks flatly.

Steve shrugs. “You got anything better to do tonight?”

Raising a sharp brow at Steve, Robin starts to smile, too. “You sure you wanna subject your feet to that?”

“I think I can handle it,” Steve shoots back, and then Robin is up off the couch and helping him push the coffee table out of the way.

They rifle through Steve’s collection of tapes until they find something he deems just the right tempo, pop the cassette in, and stand in the middle of the living room.

“Okay, give me your hand,” Steve says, taking her right hand in his left, “and your other goes on my shoulder.”

Robin does as he says, glancing dubiously down at her feet as Steve places his hand on her waist. “I’m not actually sure this is a good idea,” she says with a grimace. “I might be unteachable.”

“We haven’t even started yet,” Steve reminds her. “Seriously, relax, this is super easy. It’s just a box step waltz.”

Despite her uncertainty, Robin can’t help but smirk at him. “A waltz, huh?” she teases. “Did your parents make you take fancy-pants, rich kid dance lessons when you were younger, or something?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “No. My mom taught me,” he says, and then rushes on before Robin has anything to say about that. “So you’re gonna start by stepping back with your right foot when I step forward, alright?”

Brows furrowed, Robin nods and looks down at her feet again, and Steve squeezes her waist gently to get her attention.

“Look up at me, not at your feet. It’ll be easier, I promise.”

“How am I going to know what my feet are doing if I’m not looking at them?”

“You’re attached to them, Robin.”

“That’s debatable.”

Steve tries not to laugh. He really does. “Okay, you’re in marching band, right? This cannot be harder than following whatever steps that involves while also playing an instrument.”

“This is different!” Robin insists. “I can’t step on the French horn’s feet! The French horn isn’t gonna judge me if I fuck up! Like, the worst that’ll happen in marching band is that the drum major will yell at you, and the drum major is always yelling, so it doesn’t even make a difference anymore, and–”

“Hey,” Steve cuts in, squeezing Robin’s hand this time. “I’m not going to judge you if you fuck up, okay? I am literally the last person qualified to do that.”

Robin huffs out a little laugh. “Right. Two of a kind,” she says.

“Exactly.” Steve grins. “Now c’mon, Buckley, I know you’ve got this. On one, back with your right foot.”

Nodding, Robin glances down at her feet, but looks right back up at Steve. “Okay.”

“Okay. One–”

Steve steps forward with his left foot, and Robin immediately steps forward with her right and kicks him in the shin.

“Ow,” Steve says, dry and flat because it hadn’t really hurt.

“Sorry!” Robin ducks her head, laughing nervously.

Steve shakes his head. “Let’s try that again. Back with your right foot.”

“At least I had the right side?”

“Yep, now aim for the right direction, yeah?”

This time, when Steve counts off, Robin’s right foot goes back, and his left follows her.

“Okay, now what?” Robin asks, looking down again.

“Now, you’re gonna bring your left foot–” gently, Steve judges the top of her left foot with his right, “back,” as she begins to slide back, he moves and taps the inside of her ankle, “and to the left. Just like that.”

“No injuries this time,” Robin quips, and Steve smiles.

“Now move your right foot over next to your left.” He nods as Robin gets her feet back together. “Forward with your left foot – good,” he encourages as he steps back to mirror her. “And now forward and to the side with your right. Like you did with your left before, but opposite.”

“Uh.” Robin makes the move slowly, still staring down, but she looks back up at him when she gets her right foot planted. “Like that?”

“Yep. Now left foot over, and–” Steve follows her, bringing them back to the same position they started in, “that’s it!”

Robin blinks at him. “That’s it?”

“Easy, right?” Steve says.

“Yeah.” Robin nods hesitantly. “I think I can handle that.”

“Of course you can,” Steve insists. “Now let’s try it again. Back with your right foot. One–”

Robin steps forward with her right and kicks Steve in the shin.

“Sorry!”

Steve quickly becomes glad they’re both in their socks, or he’d be sporting much more serious bruises by the time they reach the end of the tape. Robin doesn’t have any trouble keeping the order of the steps in mind, but keeps moving in the opposite direction of where she’s supposed to be going, and Steve has been kicked and stepped on more times in the last half hour than he thinks he has been in his entire life.

“This is ridiculous,” Robin groans. “This is the literal definition of women having to do everything backwards and in heels!”

“You’re not wearing heels,” Steve points out.

“I would be at prom,” Robin says. “Why do I have to go backwards?”

“Because you’re following.”

“Well why can’t I lead?”

“Because you don’t even know how to follow!”

“Exactly! I’m starting from scratch either way!” Robin aims pleading eyes up at Steve. “Can’t we just try it in reverse? How much worse at it could I be?”

The thing is, Steve’s only ever led when dancing – he’s never had reason to learn how to do the follow part. But then, he’s already been reversing the steps in his head all night in order to instruct Robin; following couldn’t be that hard, could it?

“Fine,” Steve groans, letting his head hang back for a moment. “Fine. Trade me.”

“Yes! Trade!” Robin pumps her fist once in triumph, and Steve can’t help but laugh.

He lets go of her right hand and instead takes her left before putting his other hand on her shoulder.

“Hand on my waist.” Steve nods to his to his left side, and Robin moves into position. “Right, so you’re gonna step forward with your left this time, okay?”

Robin nods. “Forward with my left. Okay.”

“Okay. One–”

Steve steps back with his right foot. Robin steps back with her left.

They stand there, each half balanced on their back foot, staring at each other, before Robin bursts into laughter. Steve follows suit.

“I– I told you I was unteachable,” Robin giggles once they’ve caught their breath, her forehead resting on Steve’s shoulder.

“Nope, this is a personal challenge now,” Steve insists, still grinning. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a quitter. You’re going to learn to waltz if it kills me.”

“Shouldn’t it be ‘if it kills me’?” Robin draws back to ask.

“My death is looking a lot more likely at this point,” Steve says, and Robin snorts.

“God, you’re so dramatic.”

“Yeah, okay, Miss Unteachable. Ready to try again?”

Robin takes in a breath, wiggles her shoulders, and puts her hands back in position. “Ready.”

“Great. Just remember–”

“Forward with my left foot,” Robin echoes, overlapping Steve’s instruction perfectly.

Steve grins. “Okay, then. One–”

Somehow, Robin makes a better leader than a follower. Once she gets over the initial nerves, she manages the reverse order of steps just fine, even getting confident enough to stop looking at her feet after several sets.

(The fact that Steve has no trouble immediately reversing the steps himself and still instructing Robin receives no comment, though it does receive a brief glare, which gets a smug grin in return.)

They rewind the tape again and keep going. Steve lifts their joined hands to spin Robin around when they hit the second song and she follows with a laugh before insisting that, since she’s leading, she should be the one spinning Steve. He has to duck a little to get under her arm, but they feel the maneuver is quite successful.

Robin offers to try to dip him, but Steve declines, insisting he doesn’t feel like getting dropped on the floor today, earning a pinch at his waist even as Robin laughs.

As the evening wears on, they give up their carefully-held waltz positions and lean in close, until Robin’s head is resting on Steve’s shoulder again, her arms wrapped around his waist, while Steve drapes his arms over her shoulders and leans his head on top of hers.

“This is the kind of slow dancing I would’ve expected from Steve Harrington at prom,” Robin says as they sway in gentle circles to the beat of the music.

Steve hiccups out a little laugh. “Yeah, well, I had to make sure you knew how to do the real thing, first.”

“And?” Robin asks. “Do I pass?”

“I think you’ve got the hang of it,” Steve says. “Now you have no excuse not to go.”

“Steve,” Robin draws back a little, enough to look up at him without pulling away, “who the hell do you think I’m going to be dancing with at prom? It’s not like I can ask– anyone I’d be interested in.”

Steve’s heart sinks a little, the same way it always does when he’s reminded of how fucking unfair the world is to Robin and to other people like her. He shrugs a bit lamely. “You could go with friends?”

“I guess,” Robin says, staring at the front of Steve’s shirt, suddenly lost in thought.

Steve frowns. He doesn’t even remember what had gotten them onto the subject of prom—it’s January, the dance is months away—but what had started out as something fun is starting to make Robin feel bad, and he can’t have that.

“Hey, I didn’t mean–”

“You should go with me,” Robin cuts in, looking back up at him.

“What?”

“To prom,” Robin says. “You should be my big ol’ platonic date.”

“Right,” Steve drawls. “Because going to prom the year after you’ve graduated doesn’t scream that you haven’t moved on from high school at all. Definitely not sad, or anything.”

“Sure,” Robin agrees wryly. “About as un-sad as not going to your senior dance at all.”

Steve cuts a sharp look at Robin, who just smiles at him.

“I mean, I’m just saying: who better to give me the whole prom experience?” Robin shrugs, tone entirely too innocent to be trusted. “If you go with me, we can dress up and get the dumb picture together, and we can avoid the punch, and you can tell me all the gossip I know for a fact you still know about at least half the people there, we can dance… The whole shebang.”

When Steve had been imagining prom night with Nancy the year before, he’d imagined romance. He’d imagined meeting her eyes across the dinner table and sneaking kisses on the dance floor. He’d imagined going back to his place afterwards and making love, spending the rest of the night worshipping Nancy and making sure she knew how beautiful she’d looked and what a wonderful time he’d had with her.

But when he thinks about it now, he thinks about making jokes at dinner with Robin, about standing around in the tinsel-strewn gym and making catty remarks about who’s dressed terribly and whose dancing is even worse. He thinks about them dancing together, still, and maybe they’ll still go back to his place afterwards, where they can watch terrible movies for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t sound at all like what he’d wanted a year ago.

It sounds perfect, now.

“You’ll have to buy the tickets,” Steve finally says, and Robin’s face lights up. “And I expect my corsage to be very fancy.”

Robin laughs. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t be a cheap date, Harrington.”

“We can go Dutch on dinner, if you want,” Steve says.

“How generous,” Robin deadpans, and Steve doesn’t bother to hold back his own grin.

They both know he’s probably going to pay for dinner. He doesn’t mind.

“You’re serious, though?” Robin asks, looking up at him. “You really want to go to prom just to waltz with me?”

“Well, I went to all the trouble of teaching you.” Steve shrugs.

Robin bites her lip around a smile. “Do I get to lead?”

“For the sake of my shins, you’d better,” Steve says, and Robin laughs, leaning back in to cinch her arms around his waist again.

“You are my favorite person, you know that?” she says softly, just audible over music still crooning from the stereo.

“Yeah,” Steve says, pressing his cheek to the top of her head and closing his eyes. “You’re mine, too.”

[Prompt: Slow dancing]

[fairyrcts]

THINKIN BOUT YOU, C.S.

by fairyrcts contents - angst, cursing, intended lowercase, use of y/n, 3rd person, mentions of depression

an - i love chris angst

taglist - @pvssychicken , @gothiccvnt6996 , @emely9274 (header by @issysh3ll )

it was 2 am in new york and y/n was just getting home. her day was exhausting to say the least. the struggle of being a full time college student with a job and rent to pay in new york is something that was unimaginable.

she fiddled with her keys, eventually finding her apartment key. she unlocked her door to her roomate, aleah, sat on the couch watching some cheesy rom-com on her laptop. y/n dropped her bag and kicked off her shoes at the door.

"hey hey." aleah waved.

"hey, girl. watcha watchin?" y/n's voice rang as she walked to the open kitchen, grabbing a cup and poaring ice water.

"27 dresses. literally never seen this dumb shit before but evangeline wants me to see it."

aleah was the definition of a stud. she was gorgeous, too. dark complexion, curly hair that hung in front of her face and piercings on her plump lips and nose.

evangeline was her girlfriend, who y/n's only met a few times. usually in the mornings after getting very little sleep from their noises filling the small apartment.

"man, that movie's so mid. did we get any mail?" y/n chuckled as she walked back in the living room, sitting in the opposing sofa.

"any mail?"

"uh, one from some credit card company and someone left a note in the crack of the door. said to y/n from chris sturnolo." she spoke, her eyes not leaving the computer.

y/n stopped in her tracks. "christopher sturniolo?" her voice was slightly shooken.

christopher was her childhood bestfriend. they were in almost every class together since kindergarten. they were inseparable. they did sports together, went to prom together, went to get their drivers license together (guess who didn't pass). they were family, at this point.

after college, she never heard from him again. happy birthdays and merry christmases every year or likes on every post, but not a single text, call, email, anything. she talked to nick and matt regularly, but not chris.

she'd ask how he was and they'd give short, vague, one-word answers. it was unfair, really. because there wasn't another soul on earth that knew her better than chris did, and all that time was wasted.

it's been 3 years without a word. and just now he's contacting her. her mind rambled as to what might have gone wrong, otherwise, there wasn't a reason to speak to her. now, especially. she'd been such a mess after leaving for cornell, and she debated not going to stay with chris. but he convinced her, saying he'll stay in touch and talk to her every day.

so much for that promise.

"uh, yeah, chris sturniolo, sturnolo, stromboli, all the same to me." her roomate shook her out of her thoughts.

"aleah, where's the damn letter?" y/n's voice sounded scared almost, not understanding what's going on.

"over on the bookshelf." aleah pointed to the letter wrapped with a little bow and a stamp in the corner of the boston streets.

her hands hurried and undid the bow, ripping the envelope open and unfolding the letter.

Dear Y/n

There seriously isn't an explanation for my distance. After you left for college I fell into such a state of depression and I don't know why but I was scared to contact you. I mean, you're out doing great big things, NYU and detective criminal type stuff. Meanwhile, I'm still here in Massachusetts, I just moved out of my parents house a year and a half ago and my career is making videos on the internet. I guess it was the jealousy that stopped me from speaking to you or some kind of fear. But all I know is that I miss you, dearly. And I guess this is kind of me asking do you think about me still? Because I haven't stopped thinkin about you.

(p.s. i know i couldve sent this over text but i didnt know if you blocked me or not)

just his handwriting caused tears to stream down y/n's face. the note itself, the words and his explanation made her sob.

she made her way to her room, shutting the door behind her. she reached for her phone in her back pocket and called chris's contact.

it rang three times before he answered. there was silence on his end, soft sobs on hers.

"chris, where the hell are you and why did you answer so late?" she said through sniffles and cries.

"i'm uh, in syracuse right now. we're here with nate for his birthday. i asked matt for your address and uhm, i was waiting for you to call." chris's voice sounded nervous almost.

"so you're.. able to come see me?" she asked to which chris affirmed.

"give me the name of your hotel. i'm coming over." she spoke. her tone wasn't demanding, but chris knew it was a demand.

chris told her the name and room number, y/n writing down each letter. after he had explained the whole thing she hung up without warning. she walked out of her room, her movements were fast as she wiped tears off her cheeks.

"woah, what's up?" aleah asked, concerned.

"i'll tell you when i'm back." y/n brushed her off, grabbing her keys, leaving and shutting the door quite harshly.

she jogged down the stairs, her hand grazing the railings and the other jingling the keys with each step.

she pushed the door that so clearly said pull. the frustration just added to her unexplainable feelings.

"why the fuck won't this shit open!?" she shouted. the small, teenage boy at the front desk squeaked out a few words.

"it's uhm. it's pull. y-you're pushing it." y/n looked down at the sign.

"shut the fuck up, curtis!" she yelled once more, yanking the door and storming out of it.

"dumb ass name." y/n mumbled to herself. she walked hurriedly to her car, clicking the unlock button on her keeys and jumping in the drivers seat.

she turned it on, putting the ignition in reverse. she internally conflicted wether or not to put on music. of course, there was no need for it. buttt to make the whole event more dramatic, she turned on her playlist, thinkin bout you by frank ocean coming in through the speakers.

the music made tears swell up in her eyes. the whole situation was just fucked.

her car sped, running through red lights here and there, honking at any car that was slow or in front of her.

when she arrived at the hotel, she shut off her music and her car, locking it as she slammed the door of it behind her. she pulled the door to the entrance to the entrence of the large hotel, the door refusing to open.

"it's a push door!" the lady at the front desk yelled loud enough to be heard.

"oh, fuck me." y/n groaned, finally opening the door. she stormed inro the elevator, the front desk lady attempting to stop her by shouting 'miss'.

as if that was gonna stop her. y/n pressed the 4 button aggressively, multiple times.

"hurry the fuck up!" she was so out of it, she was yelling at an inanimate button.

when the door started opening, she squeezed herself through the space, looking at the numbers on each door until she found the 103 in a big font.

she knocked hard and loud continuously until the door opening interrupted her.

and now, she was faced with the man who made her, and broke her.

the two stared into one anothers eyes momentarily before y/n brought a hand up and smacked the side of his face.

a 'youch' came out of chris's mouth. he rubbed the side of his face that was now red while y/n began rambling.

"now, what the fuck is wrong with you! i mean, you know better! christopher, holy fuck, where do i even begin with you!?" her voice rang through the halls as she pushed herself into the room.

"i- i don't know." chris's tone was sorrowful, but that wasn't necessarily something she cared about right now.

"you are such a douchebag! i fucking can't believe you. ignoring my calls, texts, letters, everything! the only information i ever got about you was through 10 picture slideshows on instagram and your brothers, who werent much of a help! you can say whatever all you want, but chris, i was so mentally fucked up! i was so behind in my classes, that you know i put a humongous amount of effort into getting into, i was rude and emotional all the time and pushed away people i love and adore because i was so hung up on the thought that you stopped caring and you stopped loving me! you know how terrible of a feeling that is? to believe that the one person you love most in the world doesn't give two damn shits about what you're doing now? do you?!"

she yelled and yelled and yelled as her eyes didn't just shed tears, but boy, they poured.

"n-no, no i don't know how that feels." christopher mumbled as water welled up in his own eyes.

"yeah, and that's because you know i'm incapable of unloving you! you're aware of my love for you, because i reminded you every day. you know i wear my heart on my sleeve and you still pulled this dumb shit! i don't even know how you managed to do such thing! i was at such a terrible place, chris."

her words were less aggressive now as she cried tears of sadness rather than anger. she sat herself on one of the two hotel beds while chris sat beside her. he awkwardly pulled her into a hug, y/n leaning into it immediately.

her head laid in his lap as he rubbed her back, whispering small shushes every now and then while she kept bawling.

"y'know. i've been thinkin' bout you. i never stopped, really. i just- i don't even have an excuse. and you can keep yelling at me, and i'll keep listening, but i can't explain as to why i didn't. i just don't know, y/n." his voice was calm and gentle and his hands glided up and down her side.

once she finally stopped crying, she sat up and wiped her tears. "I'm sorry." chris stated, his eyes meaningful along with his voice.

that's all she wanted to hear.

he pulled her into an embrace once more, engulfing himself in the girl he missed so deeply.

"i was thinkin' bout you, too, y'know." she mumbled into his neck.

and that's all he wanted to hear.

[lewsnumerounofan]

party foul (jeremiah fisher x reader)

summary: so what if you're in love with your best friend, jeremiah fisher? one drunk kiss won't change anything. right?

notes: not biblically accurate conrad, teen drinking, kissing, 3k words, reader previously dated co**ad, angst/miscomm., not proof read at all

+ part 2

+ i never keep the same tense i'm so sooryim gooo fuckjuhnbsorry oh my god and dw abt the header image!!!!!! it's okay!!!!!

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

you hadn't expected this, to say the least. in fact, you'd been bracing for an awkward and mostly miserable night. ever since conrad and you had split back in june, things had been awful. the breakup had been bad itself--getting ditched at prom without explanation was one thing--but watching conrad get back with nicole a week later was even worse.

so you were pleasantly surprised with yourself when you decided to go to the fisher's goodbye party, despite whatever tension there might be between you and conrad.

if you were being honest with yourself though, you mostly had jeremiah to thank. you two had been best friends since childhood, but ever since his brother had broken your heart, jere had been there for you. all the time, really. he'd drive down on weekends to check up on you. and when susannah had gotten worse, you'd driven up to make sure he was eating and sleeping too.

so of course he'd been able to convince you to come stay, waving off your concerns about conrad. i want you there, he'd said. i really want you there. and so you'd come. you arrived late, tired from the hours of highway driving. already the house was packed with hap hazardously parked cars and drunk teenagers. the music was loud even on the warm streets outside, and you couldn't help but feel excited as you pulled your bag out of your car and started towards the party.

taylor was the one who opened the door for you. she launched herself into a hug, giggling and shrieking as you two swung around.

"oh my god. you have no idea how happy i am to see you," she yelled, dragging you into the crowded house.

together you fumbled upstairs, eventually breaking into one of the larger rooms. various assortments of air mattresses and water beds covered the floor. jere had called you as soon as they'd gotten back from the boardwalk about julia's suprise moving. it wasn't often you heard him so... defeated.

"you can drop your stuff wherever," said taylor, "but the one in the corner is jeremy's."

she didn't even bother to hide her grin as you slapped her arm. nothing, not even your best kept secret, made it past taylor.

"shut up. you can't say anything to him or i swear i'll kill you," you promised, only half joking.

"oh please. he hasn't stopped talking about you the whole trip. it's disgusting."

you tried not to smile at that--jere talked about you? i mean, he'd called you just about every day for the last few months. more, on days when things were hard. but still, you felt almost nervous at the thought of seeing him now. of what it might be like between you.

your thoughts were cut off by a shout of your name. running into the room was belly. well, not running--rolling.

"oh my god bell what are you wearing?" you asked. it was too late though, because she was wrapping you up in a wobbly, crushing hug.

"roller skates? duh? they're an old pair of susannah's," she said.

you'd missed belly. she looked fucking adorable in her little vintage number, and you hugged her again just because. over her shoulder you could see steven grinning, and conrad too. you waved to the later while steven strode over, ruffling your hair before taking your bag from you.

"long time no see, city-girl," he said.

"yeah yeah yeah. just be nice to my bag, okay? it's got some very delicate presents," you said. steven raised his eyebrows but did as you said, placing your bag onto the bed taylor had indicated earlier. jere's bed. taylor and steven met eyes and winked--uh oh. the last thing you needed was them trying to set you up with your best friend. your best friend who you're in love with, something inside you said. you tried your best to strangle it.

"hey."

this time it was conrad, who was sporting a pair of atrocious sunflower sunglasses on the top of his head.

"hey. i like the glasses," you said, doing your best to smile. it was weird to talk like this to him. you were so angry and embarrassed and sad because of him for so long, and now there was just... nothing. and it felt okay.

"uh, yeah. nicole--nicole got them for me."

he looked sheepish, blushing in a way that used to have you fawning. now you just did your best to nod, saying, "well, she's certainly got a good eye for fashion."

you were saved from the conversation by steven's cough. he stood by the doorway, impatiently waving you towards the party.

"cmon guys, can we hurry this up?"

"yeah, gimmie one sec," you promised. returning to your bag you pulled out the liquor you'd secured on your way there, the bottles heavy in your hands.

"see," you said, turning back to your friends, "presents."

-

downstairs was even louder than you thought it would be. belly had gone all out for the party--strobe lights blared in every room, a kegger was set up outside, and a dj (was that cam cameron??) was spinning in the living room. you had to admit it: you were having a good time. a really good time. except for, that is, one thing. or person, really. jere was nowhere to be found. he'd even missed out on the group shots you, steven, taylor, belly and conrad had downed first beside the pool and then by the kitchen. jeremiah never missed group shots.

a little more than drunk now, you pushed off from your spot on the counter to find your bestfriend.

"city-girl, where you going?" asked steven.

"i'm gonna go find jere. i haven't seen him since i got in."

"i'll come with you," a voice spoke up.

it was conrad, who looked between you and the floor nervously. you didn't miss the questioning looks that pass between taylor and belly. you shrug at them--a little nervous, but not enough to turn him down in front of all your friends.

"uh, yeah sure."

so you and conrad made your way back through the party, scanning couches and corners for jeremiah. by the time you hit the stairs you were both sweaty and annoyed. you had come all this way to see him, and all of a sudden he'd disappeared.

"he's not picking up any of my calls," said conrad, pulling his phone away from his ear.

"me neither," you admitted, letting yourself swing around the banister to sit at the bottom of the staircase. cautiously, conrad gestured to empty landing beside you.

"mind if i join?"

you nod, scooching over to make room. conrad looked bigger than last time you'd seen him. he looked stronger too. for a while after susannah died he'd looked like a corpse--pale and skinny and only half there. even you could admit you were glad to see him doing so much better.

"hey, look i didn't really tag along to search for jere," conrad said, glancing back at you. shocker.

"i uh," he cleared his throat, "i mostly just wanted to apologize. for how things ended. i know i messed up really bad and i wanted to say i'm sorry."

in the hazy blue and purple's of the dance floor below, conrad's steel-blue eyes were genuine. for the first time that night they held yours steadily.

"i was hurting, and let myself fall on you for comfort even when i knew you weren't who i wanted. who i needed. and it wasn't fair to you. i know that now, and i'm sorry it took me so long. i'm really, really sorry."

huh. you hadn't really expected that one either. but it was nice to hear him say those words. you liked conrad. he was a good guy who'd had a rough hand delt to him. and yeah, he hadn't done right by you. but like susannah had always repeated:

"no harm no foul," you said, and let yourself smile at him. he looked relieved as he smiled back, no doubt recognizing the reference to his mother.

"you're happy now, i take it? with nicole?" you ask.

"yeah. more than happy, actually. don't know what i did to deserve her."

you're happy for him, in that moment. really happy.

"what about you? you finally stopped messing around and admitted your feelings to jere?" he asked.

"huh?" you drop, mouth open. there's no way.

"what," he chuckled, grinning harder at your shocked expression, "like it's not obvious you two are crazy for each other."

you can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks now, stomach skipping at his words. so they all knew, you realized. does jere?

"he doesn't--you didn't tell him, right?" you said, panic rising.

conrad shakes his head, still looking amused.

"no, but he'd be a fool not to see it. you guys are perfect for each other. really."

"thanks, conrad."

and you mean it--it's been months of awkwardness between you. and now you just feel... good. you feel like you've got your friend back. so you lean over and hug him, letting yourself remember that before your fling you were friends, and returning back to it feels comforting and warm.

"thank you, for hearing me out. i'm glad we can be back to normal now," he said into your shoulder.

"friends again?" you ask.

"definit--"

"what the fuck?"

-

it's jeremiah. he stands at the top of the stairs, eyes wide. he's wearing the ariana grande merch you'd gotten him. he looks the same and yet--

and yet something in your chest fizzes and your stomach starts running circles as you look at him. you missed him. and not because he was your best friend.

"jere--it's not what it looks like," said conrad.

and then you realized he did look different. the jeremiah you knew was always grinning about some secret joke, or making fun of belly or steven. he never looked... betrayed like this. and he certainly never looked at you with disgust. with anger.

"what the fuck are you guys doing?" he asked again, but this time he didn't even look at you.

"nothing, jere. we were just talking," said conrad.

you cringed at his words. they might be true, but they sure didn't sound good.

"yeah, sure," laughed jere. you'd never heard him laugh like that. it made your skin prickle.

"c'mon, you know i'd never do that-" conrad started.

jeremiah was faster though. he was up in conrad's face in a second, pushing him into the wall. you'd never seen him like this. he wasn't an aggressive guy; even when the brothers fought it was never violent.

"don't fucking lie, con. you were just waiting to take her back weren't you? waiting until you knew it'd hurt me the most, huh?"

you felt his words viscerally, like they were being penned onto your skin. hurt him the most? it was the closest to a confession you'd gotten, but it all felt wrong.

by now, partygoers on the main floor had started to notice the commotion. people were pointing, some even starting to pull out their phones. great.

"jere," you called. he paused, bright blue eyes on you. even now, fighting with his brother, jeremiah looked beautiful. maybe you had had a bit too much to drink.

"jere, please let it go. conrad isn't a part of this," you murmured. though you didn't break eye contact, you could see his hands loosen around his brother's shirt in your peripheral. jaw clenched, he heeded your wishes, giving a final shove to conrad before breaking away. he walked quickly down the stairs and into the throngs of people below.

"jere, wait up!" you call, desperately trying to follow the broad shape of his back through the crowd. jeremiah didn't bother trying to accommodate your smaller strides, and you almost lost him a few times in the packed house.

"would you please slow down? jere," you said again. by now you were out of the house, dodging pool floaties and scattered drinks. the blonde made no indication of hearing you as he kept striding towards the beach.

"jeremiah!"

finally he whipped around. he still looked mad--the set of his jaw, the notching of his eyebrows--but under all of it, he just looked sad. you hated seeing him upset, and you hated knowing you might've been the cause of it.

"jere, please. what's going on?" you asked, this time softly. he was close to you now. you could see his heavy breathing, could smell the perfume he always wore.

"how would i know. you're the one who's looking all close with your ex--my brother--conrad," he spits. he swallows hard, like he's checking himself.

"it was always you and conrad. even when we were kids it was that way. i was stupid to think it could've been any different."

he turned away from you, gaze hard. oh, jere. you have no idea, you thought. it was him--how could he not see that? how could he really think it was conrad you cared about?

you couldn't deny it any longer: you loved jere. and you definitely weren't about to let him walk away thinking otherwise.

quickly, without letting yourself dwell on it, you grabbed jeremiah's hand. he turned back, eyes wide. and you kissed him.

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

and then everything was static. everywhere he touched you--the long, lean press of his body to your front, the sharp slide of his jawline under your palm, the firm press of his hands at your waist. every sense was filled with him and his warmth and the way he smelled.

you were gasping into the kiss, hyperaware of the small noises he made when you pulled on his curls. of just how tall he was, how much he had to lean down to hold you like this.

you barely broke away enough to say, "jere, nothing happened with conrad. we were talking about you-"

"don't care," he said, voice rough. because he was too busy lifting you onto one of the wooden boardwalk rails, muscled arms flexing in the distant party lights.

you barely had time to settle before he was kissing you again, sloppy this time, like he owned your mouth and wanted you to know it. you felt hot everywhere, as his hands pulled apart your thighs and he crowded his broad body into you.

you'd kissed once before for a game of truth or dare. it had been sweet and short, and you both had been teased about it for years afterwards. this was different.

wholly different, you realized, as jeremiah's lips sought out the hot skin of your neck. there was no place except where he touched you; the noise of the party, the lull of the waves on the beach, the quiet way he murmured against your skin.

"jere," you said, because there was no room in your mind for anything or anyone else. he hummed as his canines bit lightly at your ear. jere.

greedy for more, you took one of the tan, strong hands holding your face and brought it lower, lower until it rested over your frantically beating heart. jere had pulled away to watch your ministrations, cursing softly as his hand fell over your chest.

"you sure?" he asked, and his voice sounded hoarse.

"yeah, course jere. it's you."

something behind his eyes sparked at the trust you promised. it's always been you. kissing you once more, gentler this time, jere let his hand run up and under the vintage bathing suit top you'd stolen from your mom for the party.

skin on skin, jeremiah was soft and warm. he was breathing heavy as you as he felt you up. forehead to yours, gaze keen as he watched you pant and squirm.

"this okay?"

you could only nod, eyes drawn tight at the sensation. he kissed you again, his touch more confident as you clung to his shoulders.

you'd messed around with conrad a few times. it had felt good. fun, even. but he'd never had you reeling like this, never made you feel like everywhere he touched was fire. that feeling was reserved for jere.

and as his thumb circled your nipple and his teeth pulled at your lip, you realized you were burning and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it. best friend or not, jere was the only one who could make you feel like this. ever.

you pulled away from his mouth. he looked concerned, and you could feel him move his hands away from you.

"sorry if i..." he started, blue eyes near scared as he watched you.

"no, jere it's not that. it's, it's just that i-"

"hey, there's my man! where the fuck were you dude?"

it was steven. fucking steven. on his arm was taylor, who grinned manically when she saw your mussed hair and blushing expression. please not now, taylor. please don't mess this up any more.

but drunk as they were, the pair didn't notice your nervous expression. instead, steven laughed and said, "so did you finally tell her you're in love with her or what?"

-

jere's face dropped. whatever softness you'd shared moments earlier was gone. his mouth set flat, hands that had been mapping out your body now closed into fists.

"fuck you, steven."

taylor's eyes were on you now, finally recognizing the tears you tried to blink away. with a hand on his chest she held steven back, some wordless communication passing between them. if you hadn't been feeling your own heart break you would've been trying to tease them about it.

instead, you chased after jeremiah's retreating figure.

"jere, will you please listen!" you called. but he was stubborn--you knew this better than anyone. one more time you tried, shouting his name over the stupidly loud party.

he whipped back around, blue eyes sharp.

"just stay away from me, okay? why don't you go find conrad to wipe your tears," he snapped. for a moment, jere looked shocked at his own words too. but then he was shaking his head, tearing his gaze away from yours as he continued through the crowds towards the house. away from you.

and this time, as people collapsed into the space all around you, their yelling and singing drowning out even your thoughts, you knew there was no use calling for him.