#like sure they're far apart on the couch or whatever

[jonathanbyersphd]

even if they're broken up it's gonna be for .5 seconds they're too obsessed with matching each other's freak to separate

[pellucid-constellations]

My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate. 

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

~~

“What’s this punks name again?” 

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.” 

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?” 

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.” 

“Semantics.” 

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes. 

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice. 

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one. 

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus. 

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team. 

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you. 

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours. 

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck. 

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting. 

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?” 

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?” 

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.” 

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

~~

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.” 

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?” 

“Fuck you, man.” 

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something. 

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room. 

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?” 

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow. 

“Y/n.” 

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.” 

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?” 

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.” 

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.” 

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice. 

This was different. 

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room. 

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped. 

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.” 

“It was a big deal.” 

~~

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours. 

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?” 

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.” 

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—” 

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt. 

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.” 

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink. 

A good reason. 

You didn’t date athletes. 

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else. 

And you didn’t date athletes. 

You did not. 

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met. 

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged. 

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience. 

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.” 

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room. 

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room. 

“Tonight,” you answered plainly. 

The arms atop your legs tensed. 

~~

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him. 

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.” 

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.” 

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea. 

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week. 

Definitely not. 

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat. 

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you. 

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering. 

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.” 

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone. 

“What?” you yelled. 

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again. 

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.” 

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.” 

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you. 

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out. 

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up. 

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.” 

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?” 

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.” 

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.” 

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?” 

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again. 

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled. 

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.” 

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left. 

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal. 

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked. 

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.” 

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?” 

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream. 

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack. 

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.” 

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question. 

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went. 

“What the fuck?” you blurted out. 

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?” 

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied. 

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.” 

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.” 

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men. 

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently. 

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door. 

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.” 

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.” 

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?” 

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent. 

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created. 

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation. 

“Yeah, but—” 

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.” 

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat. 

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.” 

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.” 

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look. 

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.” 

~~

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news. 

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade. 

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively. 

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.” 

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink. 

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow. 

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.” 

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.” 

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?” 

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room. 

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift. 

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed. 

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.” 

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes. 

And nothing at the same time. 

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.” 

“You’re being presumptuous.” 

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply. 

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection. 

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen. 

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.” 

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you. 

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.” 

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.” 

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you. 

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.” 

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter. 

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you. 

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter. 

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.” 

“You can do it again.” 

“Oh, I will, baby.” 

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together. 

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.” 

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?” 

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.” 

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets. 

“And is that true?” 

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”

[disappearintothegrey]

If you're still taking requests 🙂 I like how you write smut especially in the recent chapter of your series. Thank you for including squirting. I wish more writers would since it's totally normal and hot. So, my request is Noah x Reader who've been dating a while but during their first time being intimate together they find out she can squirt. She didn't know she could so she's embarrassed but he loves it and wants to make her do it every time they're together.

ask and you shall receive my friend. changed it up just a teensy bit. if you want a request, send it in!

COME UNDONE // NOAH SEBASTIAN

warnings - p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, squirting, first time, language, explicit sexual content, protected sex, virgin!reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Noah had been together for almost 8 months, and you were falling more in love with him everyday. What blossomed from a friendship over anime became this newfound relationship, and you could not be happier with it. Noah was everything you ever wanted in a partner, he treated you like you held his entire world in your hands, and always wanted you to feel special.

But you wanted more. Noah was patient with you, always stopping the heated make out sessions before they got too far, and always made sure you were comfortable with whatever was going on. He never made you feel like you were a bother, and never made you feel like you were “blueballing him” (or so that’s what your friends say).

It’s not like you didn’t want to go farther. You wanted to feel his touch everywhere, you wanted the make out sessions to go further. You wanted him to do more than grab your ass and kiss down your neck. But you were scared shitless of the fact that you were still a virgin, and you had no idea what you were doing. And you were afraid he wouldn’t like that and would leave you for someone more experienced.

You’ve been thinking about this for days now, contemplating how to go about it by the time he arrived at your apartment for the weekend. Friday rolled around faster than you expected, and suddenly all the nerves you felt were bubbling out of your head. And he noticed, too. He noticed during movie night that you seemed far away, not really paying attention to the cheesy horror flick he had chosen.

“You okay?” He whispers, his fingertips stroking the side of your arm.

Startled, you glance over at him, smiling nervously, “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking. What did I miss?” You asked, and he laughed before turning down the TV volume.

“Have you been paying attention at all?” He asks inquisitively, “You love this movie,”

You sigh, resting your cheek on your knees that were against your chest, “Actually, I need to talk to you about something,” You start, and you see the flash of concerned nervousness take over Noah’s pretty face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, turning to face you fully on your small couch, his eyes searching your face for clues. He remains quiet while he watches you think, grabbing your hand for extra comfort.

“There’s something I want to try, and I need you to hear me out,” You start, not meeting his eyes, glancing at your intertwined hands, “I haven’t been completely honest with you,”

He cocks his head curiously, his eyes sparkling with confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Well…you know that I’m not very experienced with sex,” You start, taking a shaky breath, your eyes meeting his. He gives you a nod, urging you to go on, “I never told you it’s because I’m a virgin,” You blurt, and he blinks in surprise.

He’s quiet for a moment, and you’re desperately searching his face for some type of reaction. But he remains nonchalant, simply nodding, “Okay,”

You literally feel your jaw drop in surprise, “Okay? That’s it?” You ask

Noah snorts, “What were you expecting?”

You sigh, “For you to leave,”

This time, he’s the one staring at you with an open mouth, “Leave you? Over that? No, absolutely not,” He replies quickly, shaking his head in agreement with his statement.

You feel tears burning your eyes, and your cheeks are turning red with embarrassment. Noah notices, giving you a small smile and pulling you to his chest. You crawl into his lap, moving to straddle him as you stare down at him, “Noah?” You ask.

“Hmm?” He hums, head leaned back against your living room wall as he looks at you.

“I want you to be my first,” You admit, and his head snaps up in shock. His hands wrap tighter around your waist, your fingers playing with his hair that was falling out of his loose bun.

“Are you sure, baby?” He asks quietly, and you swear you can see his eyes darken.

You nod, sheepishly looking down at his face, your left hand cupping his cheek, “I’ve wanted this for a while, and I’m ready for you to take me,”

You feel his right hand creep up your back, tangling in the hair at the base of your neck. He glances over your features again, searching for any kind of insincerity, before you say fuck it internally and press your lips to his. Noah gasps in surprise, his hand gripping your neck as he holds you close, and you take the chance to slip your tongue into his mouth, his warmth enveloping you.

Your tongues dance for a few moments, his left hand cupping your ass as he brings you closer, your hands splayed out against his hardened chest. Your lips break, his mouth trailing kisses along your throat, suckling the soft skin of your neck between his lips. You can’t help the small sigh that escapes you, and you can feel his lips turn upwards into a smile against your heated skin.

“Let’s move this into your room,” He whispers, pulling away from you, only to scoop you up bridal style and carry you to your bedroom.

You let out a giggle when he lays you on your bed, hovering over you as he peppers your face with kisses. Noah crawls on top of you, settling himself between your parted thighs, connecting your lips once more. His fingertips trail down your side, touching the edge of your t-shirt, giving it a gentle tug as a hint.

“Take it off,” You whisper against his lips, and within seconds he has the garment over your head and on the floor.

“Fuck,” He groans, noticing you weren’t wearing a bra, your small breasts on display for him. You feel nervous, going to cover them up with your arms before he stops you, his eyes flickering to yours in defiance, “You are so beautiful, angel. God, perfect for me,” He whispers, and you can feel yourself dampen down below at his words. His voice is thick with lust, his desire clear in his voice.

He kisses along the column of your throat, moving past your collarbones, his lips finding your right nipple, suckling it right into his mouth. You gasp out in surprise, your back arching into the touch as your fingers tangle in his hair. He’s gentle, his tongue circling the perked muscle, his teeth grazing the tip, and you are weak in the knees by this point. His left hand cups your other breast, squeezing the soft flesh in his palm and teasing the nipple with his fingertips.

“Noah, oh my god,” You moan, your heart racing in your chest at the pleasure coursing through your body. Your core is aching, and you can feel the wet patch forming on your panties. Keening into his touch, you rock your hips against his pelvis, feeling his erection underneath his sweatpants. You gasp at the feeling, and he groans, rolling his hips back against yours, “Fuck!” You cry out

Noah pulled away from your breasts, capturing your lips in another kiss. But this one was different, it was heated. His tongue was intertwining with yours, teeth knocking into each others as his hand cups underneath your jaw, rutting into your hips with his.

“Noah, please,” You beg, gripping at the bottom of his shirt. He sits up, pulling the shirt off his body and tossing it aside. Your eyes rack over his tattooed chest, the artwork glistening under a thin sheen of sweat. Your fingertips touch his chest, the muscles flexing under your touch.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asks again, his pupils blown with pleasure, “We can stop at any time, you just say the word,” He reminds you, tracing circles on your bare hip.

You nod, and he tuts, “I need words,”

“Yes, Noah. I want you,” You reply, and he goes to untie your pajama bottoms, gently pulling them down your tan thighs. He leaves your panties on, his hands running over your thighs as he hops off the bed, discarding his own sweats.

He stares at you from the foot of the bed, his eyes taking in every curve and every inch of your body. Your knees are pressed together, only thin black panties covering your core. You stare back at him with equal desire, your eyes looking him up and down, irises settled on the tent in his boxers.

You reach out for him, and he crawls back up your body, sitting up in front of your bent knees. His palms rest on your knees, “May I?” He asks, and you nod.

With a gentle push, your legs fall open, caging around him as his eyes meet your clothed core. He can see the wet spot, smirking, “Look at that, all for me,”

You moan at that, and his eyes flicker to yours, pure desire overtaking his entire body, “Take them off,” You moan, “Need you,”

It’s all it takes before those black panties are slid down your thighs, you kicking them off and feeling the cold air hit your wet core. Noah licks his lips, staring hungrily down at you. He grabs your right leg, kissing along your calf muscle, down your thigh, moving himself onto his stomach. He’s face to face with your core, pressing small kisses to your inner thighs and using his nails to scratch along your skin, making you shiver in pleasure.

“I’ve gotta taste you,” He groans, his eyes meeting yours for permission.

“Fuck, yes, please,” You moan, spreading your thighs farther apart in anticipation.

Noah’s gentle, pressing a kiss to your clit, eliciting a gasp from your lips. You feel his tongue slide along your folds, diving in with the tip. You cry out at the feeling, gripping the bedsheets in your hands as he continues to lick up your core, using his fingers to spread your folds and dive in deeper. You can’t help but let out of a scream when he captures your clit in his lips, sucking the muscle into his mouth. The hands gripping the bedsheets find his hair, and you feel him smile against you.

“Taste so good, baby,” He moans, picking up a faster rhythm with his tongue along your clit, making you see stars, “Can’t get enough of you,”

You are a mess of moans, his tongue abusing your clit as you feel a finger teasing your entrance, his index pressing in slowly as he sucks your clit back into his mouth.

“Fuck!” You scream at the intrusion, his finger curling inside you and slowly fucking into you, “Holy shit,”

He finds a rhythm, his finger timed with his tongue as he warms you up, slipping another finger in and using the scissoring motion to stretch you out. You can feel tears prick at your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure, a warmth in your belly developing. Your hips involuntarily start grinding against his face, which he greedily takes advantage of, thrashing his face side to side like a starved man.

Suddenly, that warm feeling in your stomach started feeling like you were going to piss yourself, and you back away in fear, “Noah,”

Noah knows, he can feel your walls clenching around his fingers and the way your clit is throbbing along his tongue, “It’s okay, let it go,” He soothes, his fingers curling upwards in a “come hither,” motion as he sucks your clit back into his mouth, eliciting a stream of moans from you.

The warm feeling in your stomach snaps, the overwhelming feeling of euphoria taking over your body as you scream out his name, gripping his hair, his tongue lapping up every drop of cum you give him as he lets you ride it out. Your thighs are shaking, pussy throbbing against his ministrations, and he pulls away from you with a final kiss to your thigh, getting back up to his knees and kissing up your nude body.

His lips find yours, pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting yourself all over his tongue. Your fingers trail down his body, stopping at his boxers, slipping your hand inside and gripping his length. He groans against your lips, head falling against your shoulder as you try to pump him, your hands clumsily moving up and down his cock.

“Doing so good for me baby,” He moans into your ear, hips rocking into your fist.

“I suck at this,” You whine, feeling useless

“You’re doing just fine, honey. I have all the time in the world to teach you. But today isn’t about me, it’s about you,” He replies, gently pulling your hand out of his boxers as he gets to his feet, heading to his bag, where he pulls out a condom, “Always gotta be prepared,”

You laugh at that, grateful he at least remembered protection. He tosses the condom on the bed, pulling his boxers off his body, his cock hitting his stomach with a wet slap. You gasp, staring at his length and starting to panic inside. Because there’s no way that is fitting inside you.

“You’re okay,” He soothes, noticing your fear as he joins you on the bed, settled between your legs, “We can stop now, it’s okay,” He offers, but you shake your head.

“No, I want this. I just don’t think you’ll fit,” You admit, and he laughs again.

“Oh, it’ll fit, baby. Because you were made for me,” He kisses you softly, pouring all his love for you into the kiss, and you feel yourself melting.

He continues kissing you as he grabs the condom, opening it up and sliding it on himself. You start to shake underneath him, and he pulls away, looking into your eyes as the head of his cock teases your entrance.

“Say the word,” He tells you, allowing you to make this move on your own time. He has no problem waiting forever, just as long as he has you in his arms.

With a deep breath, you nod, pulling him into another kiss. He slowly pushes in, his head moving past the thick ring of muscles. Your head falls back at the stretch, sharp pains shooting along your pelvis as he pushes in. Your nails dig into his biceps, squeezing him as you cry out in pain.

Noah pauses immediately, stopping his movements as he peppers your face with kisses, “It’s okay, you’re doing so good for me. It’ll be okay, tell me when,” He soothes, repeating himself to make sure you knew.

“Keep going,” You whimper, his hips slowly moving forward again. You whimper through the stretch, the pain shooting through your veins, hands gripping his arms as he kisses your neck, trying to distract you.

It worked, because suddenly his hips were touching yours and he was completely inside you. The stretch was insane, your body felt like it could split in two around his cock. You breathe hard through your nose, tears slipping out of your eyes. He stills, watching your face as you adjust, the pain fading away.

“Move,” You whisper into his shoulder, legs caging around his waist, “Please,”

Noah obliges wordlessly, pulling out before snapping back inside, making you loudly moan. The pleasure from the stretch you felt was mindblowing. He sets a slow, rocking rhythm, tiny groans leaving his lips into your ear as he fucks into you. Your hips rock back against him, moans filling the room as he speeds up, skin slapping skin vibrating in the room.

“Fuck fuckfuck fuck,” You moan, your back arched as he changed his angle, the tip of his cock nailing your g-spot with every thrust, “Noah!” You cry out, your left hand gripping your headboard while the other is holding onto his arm.

“Feel so fucking good, feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock,” He grunts, the muscles of his stomach contracting with every thrust, his balls slapping against your ass, “You were fucking made for me,”

You are a moaning mess, coming completely undone underneath him as he relentlessly pounds into you. That familiar warmth is back in your stomach, and you can feel tears streaming down your face, “Noah, gonna,” You cried, your walls clenching around him, a loud growl filling the room from his chest.

“Fuck, come for me, baby. Fucking cum on this cock,” Noah demands, his paced quickening up as he grabs your legs, pressing them against your chest and using his legs as leverage to pound into your harder.

The pleasure was overwhelming, his cock abusing your cervix as he thrusts into you. You felt like you were floating, stars forming in your eyes as that feeling in your gut snapped, screaming out his name in a stream of curses. You didn’t notice his cry of surprise, nor did you notice the fact that your orgasm caused you to squirt all over him, the sounds of wet skin filling the room.

“Holy shit, that was so fucking hot, fuck,” He groans, using his hand to circle your clit, more of your orgasm spewing out against his hips, “Fuck yeah give me it,”

You were sobbing at this point, your body overstimulated by pleasure, and the feeling of his cock abusing your spongey skin was too much. You could feel that exact same feeling already forming, and you cried out in agony, “Fuck! Noah! You’re gonna make me—“

Noah growls, deep from his chest as if he was performing Dethrone at the end of the set. He’s chasing his own release, turned on by your moans and the fact that you squirted all over his cock. He’s never had someone do that before, and he is in utter bliss.

“Whose pussy is this?” He demands, using a hand to circle your throbbing clit in tune with his thrusts.

“Yours! Fuck! Noah! I’m yours!” You scream, and it’s all it takes before you cum again, warmth filling your body as he finishes inside the condom. He rides out his orgasm as you release all over him, his lower half soaked as well as the bedsheets underneath you.

Noah slows down his thrusts, dropping to his elbows to kiss you passionately, releasing your thighs from your chest. You thread your fingers in his hair, the long locks cascading over your face as you two kiss. His thrusts come to a stop, softening inside you, and that’s when you feel it.

The dampness underneath you.

“Noah…” You whisper fearfully, and he pulls away to look at you in concern.

“Baby?”

“Did…did I pee myself?” You ask, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you finally look at him, gasping at the wetness all over his hips.

Noah blinks, before remembering, chuckling, “Oh honey, no, you didn’t. When you came that second and third time, you squirted,” He explains, and you feel mortified.

YOU WHAT?

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” You apologize, going to move away from him, “I’m so sorry,”

He tuts at you, grabbing ahold of your arms, holding you in place, “Stop it. You have nothing to apologize for, you did nothing wrong,” He reprimands, eyes sternly looking into yours, “Plus, it was hot as fuck,” He jokes, and you groan in response, slapping his chest.

The room fills with silence, Noah kissing along your neck, pulling out of you slowly. You wince in pain, and he tosses the condom aside in the trash can, wrapping you in his arms. You lay there with him, curled up along his chest, his fingers running up and down your back.

“Thank you,” You whisper after a while, moving to look up at him.

He just smiles at you, kissing your forehead, “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

You smile back, kissing his lips softly, “I love you,”

“I love you,” He replies, before smirking devilishly at you, “I’m so making you squirt again, by the way,”

You groan, but laugh at him, “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” And you knew then, that this would become a hellbent challenge for Noah. He would make it his personal mission to make you come undone like this every time he fucked you.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

~ the end ~

hope you enjoyed and it held up to your standards 🖤 thank you for reading!! will be cross-posting to ao3 and wattpad tomorrow.

send in any requests and i’ll do my best to make it happen!

[squinch-depraved]

staying in ted's apartment for chuckle week with schlatt and getting caught being a lil slut on his couch <3 not super proofread and i'm not sure how i feel about this one but i hope u enjoy :3

"i don't understand how it can be this hot," you sighed, stretching your legs and giving them a little wiggle. "i know i'm not, like, from L.A. or whatever but this can't be normal."

schlatt snorts, eyes not leaving the movie playing on the tv screen. "nothing's normal in this hellhole. this place is fucked." he stops talking, but it seems like he has more to say.

"that's it? usually you talk about how much you hate it here for at least five minutes," you ask, fiddling with the hem of your tank top.

"no point. ted's not here to piss off." his eyes sneak down to glance at you, small and sweaty and weak compared to him, and he thinks about how easy it would be to take you right here before he catches himself and looks away.

but you caught him first. "j?" you ask sweetly.

schlatt won't look at you. "what?" he replies hesitantly.

"ted's not here," spills from your lips.

"i know, i just said-"

"and he won't be back for a little bit."

the tall man nods his head after a second, finally able to look at you again. "what're you getting at?" he tilts his head slightly, admittedly curious to see if you would actually ask him what he thought you were about to ask.

"i'm bored, j," you mumble, tiptoeing around the question you really wanted to ask. his lips curl into a smile when he realizes you're too shy to ask.

"watch the movie, y/n," he responds in the same tone of voice.

"don't wanna." your eyes trace over his grey shorts, and you lose yourself in daydreams of your best friend. when you zone back into reality, you're fiddling with one of the strings that tie the shorts. mortified, you whimper and look up at him, dropping the string and scuttling backwards in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. his face is incredulous. he grabs your arms before you can scoot too far away from him.

"jesus, toots, what're you doin'? on ted's couch?" he tsks and pulls you onto his lap. "all you gotta do is ask, i'd be more than happy to help you out if you need me."

his last two words ring in your ears. need him. head nodding eagerly, you scoot closer to him on his lap, grinding down on his clothed crotch and forcing a groan from his lips. "need you, j," slips out before you can stop yourself. "please, please."

"jesus, fuck," he grumbles. "you're such a little whore, i always forget that about you."

"aww, schlatty, how could you forget about me?" you giggle, still grinding on him. "you're always on my mind, am i not on yours?" pressing your lips to his neck and kissing all over, he gasps and digs his fingers into your hips.

"nono, you are, i just- god, y/n, i can't think," he chuckles breathlessly.

"then stop thinking, j. fuck me." you whisper it into his ear and he grunts, flipping you over and pinning you down while he kisses you roughly.

"taste so good, doll, fuck," he moans, hands slipping up your tank top and eventually ripping it off. the second your tits are visible his brain sort of short circuits, and after a brief pause, a deep groan escapes his lips, and he buries his face in your chest, licking and kissing and sucking until they're spotted with deep purple marks. you're a moaning mess at this point, a wet spot becoming visible even through your shorts. once he's done marking his territory, he pulls back enough to see your pathetic sopping shorts and grins. "goddamn, y/n, i did this to you?"

"shut up!" you huff, grabbing him and pulling him down for another kiss. your other hand snakes its way to his clothed cock and fiddles with it, earning moans from him while his tongue explores your mouth. once neither of you can breathe properly, you separate and look at each other. "i need you so bad, j."

"i know," he smirks. you smack at him while he laughs and when he comes back down to kiss you, you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him as close against you as you can.

"please, i'm so serious, i can't wait any longer, schlatt, please touch me," you mewl, bringing his face to look at you and your big, wide eyes. he chuckles and nods slightly, pulling off your shorts and panties. even though it's sweltering in los angeles, the air that hits your cunt feels cold and shocks you. he moves back so he can get a good look at you and spreads your legs. you whimper in protest but he shushes you and stares between your legs, eyes hungry as if they were trying to take everything in.

"look at this gorgeous, pretty pussy," he mumbles. "all for me." his voice is deep and gravelly. eyes flicking up to your watchful ones, he makes sure to ask permission before going in and pressing a warm kiss to your clit. you gasp and flinch at how good his mouth feels, now working on sucking and exploring your folds. eventually, he slips a finger in, and you cry out in pleasure. he begins going faster, and eating you more vigorously, and neither of you hear the door open and shut.

"what the fuck are you guys doing?!" ted asks, causing schlatt to disconnect from your pussy, although still connected by strings of your wet essence hanging from his chops and mustache.

"oh, fuck, dude i'm sorry, we should've gone to one of our rooms-"

"you couldn't have waited 'til i got back?"

neither of you know what to say to the man who's kind enough to let you stay in his apartment. he does that for you and you repay him by getting nasty on his couch. rude, if he does say so himself.

"w-what?" you manage to choke out, propped up with your arms behind you.

"you couldn't have waited for me to be here so i could join?" ted says again, shifting his weight onto his other foot. "why does he get to fuck you and i don't?"

you and schlatt look at each other, not knowing what to say.

and that's how you wound up on your hands and knees, getting slammed into from behind by schlatt with ted ramming his cock down your throat. various praises echo through the room, both men making sure to tell you how good you're making them feel. and when they're done, they trade places. they use you until they're done and you just have to sit there and take it, because you're the one who started this whole thing. and when it's all done, you lay down on ted's chest with schlatt petting your hair until they exchange unspoken words and decide to trade off cuddle time with you. expect this to happen all the time now.

[cool-fancier]

Fractured Promises

Synopsis: As you wait for Lisa to come home, the weight of her absence and rising fame threatens to shatter your relationship, forcing a heart-wrenching confrontation that will change everything forever

Word Count:3k

There's a heaviness in the air as you sit on the couch, staring at the door. It's become an all-too-familiar routine—the waiting. The long hours of wondering whether tonight would be the night Lisa finally walked through that door, or if you'd fall asleep alone again, surrounded by the silence of a life once shared.

You glance at your phone—still no message. She'd said she'd be home tonight, that she missed you. That small message had tugged at your heart in ways you weren't proud of. You wanted to believe her—needed to believe her. Because that's what you had always done, even as her promises began to feel as hollow as this apartment.

Lisa wasn't the same girl she was when you first met her, and in your heart, you knew you weren't the same either. She was soaring, her name shining brighter than ever. BLACKPINK was at the pinnacle of global fame, and her solo work was rocketing her even higher. But for every inch of success she gained, it felt like you lost her a little more.

You used to laugh at the thought. The idea of losing Lisa seemed impossible. You were the person she came home to, the one who grounded her when the spotlight felt too bright. But lately, that light had drawn her so far away, you weren't even sure if she remembered what life was like outside of it.

Your thumb scrolls absentmindedly through the old photos on your phone, memories of happier times. The two of you at some tiny café in Seoul, laughing over iced coffee. Her hair was brown then, a soft shade that framed her face perfectly, making her look effortlessly stunning. Back then, her life felt more balanced. The group was busy, sure, but there was still time for you—time for both of you.

Now? Now, it was all about schedules, meetings, promotions, and collaborations. And each time you tried to talk about it, about how distant everything felt, she'd brush it off. She'd smile that familiar smile, tell you that she just needed to get through this next wave of projects and then things would be better.

But it never got better.

The sound of a key turning in the lock pulls you out of your thoughts. Your heart jumps slightly—hope, it seems, is a stubborn thing. The door opens slowly, and there she is. Lisa steps in, her brown hair loosely tied back, dressed in a casual hoodie and jeans. Her tired eyes meet yours for a brief second before she quickly looks away, closing the door behind her. The excitement you once felt when she came home has long faded into a dull ache.

You want to smile, to tell her how much you've missed her, but the words are stuck somewhere between frustration and sadness.

"Hey," she says quietly, kicking off her shoes and setting her bag down near the door.

"Hey," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

She hesitates for a second, glancing at you, but you can see the exhaustion in her posture, the way her shoulders slump as if the weight of the world is too much to bear. You used to be the one who helped lift that weight, but now you weren't sure she even remembered you were here.

"Long day?" you ask, though you already know the answer.

She nods, moving towards the couch but stopping short of sitting next to you. "Yeah... Jisoo, Jennie, and Rosé—they're all gearing up for a couple of new projects. We've been rehearsing nonstop."

Of course. The group. The other girls were like sisters to her, and you had always respected that. But it felt like they had become her world, leaving little room for you. And it wasn't their fault, not really. Jennie, Rosé, and Jisoo—they were her family, and in some twisted way, you envied them. They got her time, her attention, her laughter, while you were left with the fragments of whatever she had left after the world had taken its share.

You glance at her as she finally sits down at the far end of the couch, as if the space between you is safer that way.

"How was your day?" she asks, but her voice sounds distant, like she's already checked out of the conversation before it even begins.

You shrug, not wanting to get into it. Not wanting to unload the weight of your own loneliness on her shoulders when she already looks like she's carrying so much. But at the same time, the resentment builds, bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Fine, I guess," you reply, the bitterness creeping into your voice despite your efforts to keep it neutral.

She doesn't notice. Or if she does, she's too tired to care. She leans back against the couch, rubbing her temples. You watch her, wondering if you should say something—if tonight's the night you'll finally tell her how you've been feeling. How the distance between you both is growing so wide, you're not sure if you can ever close it again.

But you don't. Because you've had this conversation a hundred times in your head, and it never ends well.

Instead, you sigh quietly and stand up, heading towards the kitchen. Maybe a distraction will help. You pour a glass of water, staring at it as if the answer to all your problems might magically appear at the bottom of the glass.

Behind you, Lisa shifts on the couch, her voice soft and almost apologetic. "I'm sorry I've been gone so much lately."

The words are familiar, rehearsed. You've heard them before. They've lost their meaning.

You set the glass down, turning to face her. "Lisa, we need to talk."

She looks up at you, her eyes wide and slightly panicked, as if she knows exactly where this conversation is going.

"I know," she says quickly, her hands clasping nervously in her lap. "I know I've been... distant. But things are just so crazy right now. The solo stuff, BLACKPINK's comeback, all the projects... It's hard to balance everything."

"And where does that leave us?" The question comes out harsher than you intended, but it's the truth. It's the question that's been gnawing at you for months now.

She flinches slightly, her brows furrowing as she looks down at her hands. "I'm doing this for us. I'm trying to make something—something bigger than just..."

You shake your head, cutting her off. "But what about us? When was the last time we just sat down and talked? When was the last time we spent a night together that didn't feel like I was competing with the rest of the world for a piece of you?"

Her eyes fill with tears, and for a second, the sight of her vulnerability breaks your resolve. But then you remember all the nights you spent waiting for her to come home. All the nights you fell asleep alone in that bed you were supposed to share.

"I'm trying," she whispers, her voice trembling. "I'm really trying."

"But it's not enough, Lisa." The words hang heavy between you, and you can see the way they cut through her. You've never said it out loud before—not like this.

She stands up, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to shield herself from the impact. "What do you want me to do?" she asks, her voice breaking. "Quit everything? Stop being me?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "No, I don't want that. I just want *you*. I want the person I fell in love with. The person who used to come home to me, who made time for me. Not this... version of you that's always somewhere else."

Tears slip down her cheeks, and she wipes them away angrily, as if frustrated with herself for being so emotional.

"I'm still that person," she says softly, but even she doesn't sound convinced.

"No, Lisa. You're not. And maybe that's the problem."

The words hit her like a slap, and she recoils, her eyes wide with hurt. For a moment, you think she might yell, fight back, tell you that you're wrong. But she doesn't. Instead, she just stands there, looking at you with a kind of sadness that breaks your heart all over again.

"What do you want from me?" she asks, her voice small, broken.

"I want you to want this. I want you to want us," you reply, your own voice wavering with emotion. "But I don't know if you do anymore."

"I do," she insists, taking a step towards you. "I do want us. I just... I don't know how to make it work. I don't know how to be everything at once."

You close your eyes, the weight of her words crashing over you. You know she's telling the truth. She's trying. But sometimes, trying isn't enough.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lisa's breath hitches, her eyes widening in panic. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I don't know how to be with someone who's never really here."

She stares at you, her tears flowing freely now, but she doesn't move. Doesn't try to close the distance between you.

"I don't want to lose you," she whispers, her voice so fragile it feels like it could shatter at any moment.

But you don't know what to say anymore. Because part of you feels like you've already lost her.

— — — — —

Lisa's tears fall silently now, her hands trembling as she wraps them around her arms. She looks so small, standing there in the dim light of the apartment, and for a moment, you remember the woman she used to be—confident, radiant, always with that playful grin. That version of her feels like a distant memory. The Lisa standing before you is someone else entirely, worn down by the weight of the world she's been chasing.

But it's not enough. Not anymore.

You close your eyes, trying to pull back the anger and hurt, but it bubbles up anyway. "You keep saying you don't want to lose me, Lisa, but that's all it feels like. It feels like I've already lost you."

Her breath catches, and she steps forward, her voice strained. "No, don't say that. I'm here now, aren't I? I came back—"

"Yeah, after how long?" You cut her off, your voice cracking. "After weeks of being gone, of empty promises and silence. I don't know how to do this anymore. I don't know if I even can."

Her face crumples at your words, and it almost breaks you to see her like this, but the hurt inside you is too overwhelming to let her off that easily. You've been patient—too patient, perhaps. You've given everything you could, and yet, here you are, standing on the edge of something that might be too far gone to save.

"Please, let's just talk," she pleads, stepping closer, her brown hair falling in soft waves around her tear-streaked face. "I know I've been absent, I know I haven't been... the partner you deserve. But I'm trying."

"Are you?" The words come out sharper than you intended, but there's no taking them back. "Because all it feels like is that you're trying to be everything for everyone else. For the fans, for the world. But not for me."

She winces at that, her shoulders slumping further as if each word hits her like a blow. "It's not like that. You don't understand—"

"Then help me understand," you say, voice breaking. "Help me understand why I'm always the one waiting for you. Why I'm the one who's always left behind, wondering if this relationship even matters to you anymore."

There's a long, painful silence. Her eyes are glassy, her lips trembling as she tries to form a response. And then, softly, she speaks. "I never wanted it to get like this. I just... I don't know how to balance everything. BLACKPINK, the solo work, my career... I thought I could do it all, but I didn't realize how much I was losing you in the process."

Her words sting because they're true, but they don't fix the damage. They don't change the fact that the loneliness you've felt has consumed you, has eroded the foundation of what used to be such a loving relationship.

"I've been telling myself that it's just temporary," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "That one day, you'd slow down, and we'd find our way back to each other. But Lisa, I don't even know if I want to wait anymore. I don't know if I can."

She freezes at that, and for a moment, the shock on her face is palpable. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. It's like she's only just realizing how close she is to losing you. How far apart you've drifted.

"I don't want to lose you," she says again, almost like a mantra, as if repeating it enough times will make it true.

"I don't want to lose you either," you admit, the weight of the words pressing down on you. "But I don't even know if you're really here with me anymore."

She takes a step closer, her eyes wide, desperate. "I'm right here. I'm here now. Please, can't we—"

The door suddenly creaks open, and both of you turn to see Jisoo standing in the entryway, her face shadowed with concern. Behind her, Jennie and Rosé linger, clearly hesitant but unwilling to leave Lisa alone in such a vulnerable moment.

"I'm sorry," Jisoo says softly, eyes flicking between the two of you. "We didn't mean to interrupt, but we've been worried."

Lisa wipes at her tears quickly, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but she's still shaking. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice cracking.

You stand there, unsure of what to say or how to react. You know the girls mean well—they've always had Lisa's back—but their presence now feels like a painful reminder of the life she's built outside of you. The life she's chosen over you, time and time again.

Jennie steps forward, her gaze soft but serious. "She's been under so much pressure lately. The expectations are insane, and I know it's not fair to you. But Lisa's been trying. She really has."

You clench your jaw, frustration bubbling up. "It doesn't feel like it. It just feels like she's giving everything to the rest of the world and leaving nothing for me."

Rosé, who's usually the quiet one, speaks up, her voice gentle but firm. "We've all seen it, how much she's struggling. We've been there with her through it all, but... she's not the same without you."

Those words hit hard, but not in the way you expected. They make you realize something painfully obvious—she isn't the same without *you*. And maybe, just maybe, you aren't the same without her, either.

But even if that's true, is it enough?

"I can't keep being the last person on her list," you say quietly, turning to Lisa. "I can't keep feeling like I'm competing with the world for your time. I love you, but this... this isn't working."

Lisa looks like she's about to break, her tears falling freely now. "Please, don't do this," she begs, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm trying, I'll make more time, I'll—"

"You've said that before," you cut her off, the sadness in your voice making it hard to breathe. "And I believed you. But I don't know if I can believe it anymore."

Jisoo and Jennie exchange a glance, as if they're not sure whether to step in or let the two of you work this out. Rosé stays by the door, her eyes filled with sympathy but helplessness.

Lisa's hands reach out, trembling as she grabs your arm. "I'll do whatever it takes. Please, just don't leave."

Her words hang in the air, thick with desperation, but you know the truth. You've known it for a while now, even if it hurts to admit it.

"I'm not leaving," you say, your voice soft. "But maybe... maybe we need to take a step back. I don't want to lose you, but I can't keep waiting for something that might never come."

The devastation on Lisa's face is almost too much to bear. Her lips tremble as she tries to speak, but no words come out. She's always been strong, always put together, but right now, she looks shattered.

"I don't want this to be the end," she whispers, barely audible.

"Neither do I," you say, stepping back, creating a space between you both that feels impossibly wide. "But I can't keep holding on to something that's slipping away."

You turn towards the door, and as you step past Jisoo, Jennie, and Rosé, you hear Lisa's soft sobs behind you, the sound breaking your heart all over again. You've never walked away from her before. You've always stayed, always waited.

But this time, you're not sure what's left to wait for.

— — — — —

You find yourself outside, the cold air biting at your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you feel the weight of the decision settling in your chest. You love her—you always will. But love isn't always enough, and that's the hardest truth to swallow.

Behind you, you hear the door creak open. Lisa stands there, silhouetted by the light from inside, her face pale and tear-streaked. Jisoo is by her side, whispering something you can't hear, and the sight of it—the way her members surround her, protect her—reminds you of the bond she'll always have with them. The life she's chosen.

Maybe it's time for you to start choosing yourself.

As you walk away into the night, the pain gnaws at you, but somewhere deep inside, there's a small flicker of relief. Not because you wanted this, but because you've finally acknowledged the truth.

Lisa was never yours to keep.

And maybe, in letting go, you're finally freeing both of you.

[welcometo79s]

just a little love

synopsis: as you're busy reading in your coruscant apartment; fives really craves some attention and affection from you.

contains: fives x gn!reader, kisses, fives being clingy, pure tooth-rotting fluff, self-indulgent [repost after being shadow-banned]

warnings: non-sexual making out. yeah it's a thing. my asexual soul only found out that most people on this cursed earth consider like, french kissing and neck kisses inherently suggestive like 4 weeks ago so if you wanna read it like that, sure. but it's also fiction where i can have whatever i want so just know this was made with the intent of it being SFW romantic fluff and that's how it's written. i hope this isn't too confusing to my allosexual audience, bear with me here.

word count: 2k

The rain seemed to be hitting the windows of your small Coruscant apartment but you paid it no mind. The thick glass shielded you from the relentless storm outside and your nose was buried in your newest novel; an adventure of two mercenaries doing seemingly impossible jobs throughout the galaxy. You had made yourself a cup of tea and the steaming beverage as well as the warm blanket you had thrown over your lap soothed you and helped you focus on the story. You hadn't gotten very far in the book yet; only having just started Chapter 5, but you already had a feeling that this was going to be a good one.

You were about to find out whether the two protagonists would manage to make it to Tython to find an ancient Jedi holocron for their client when you heard sounds coming from the bedroom. You noted that Fives must have woken up. This was his first day on shore leave and as much as he had enjoyed the nice lunch he had shared with you and the holofilm you two watched together, the campaign before had tired him out. So the two of you had laid down in bed and cuddled; Fives having fallen asleep in your arms to the sound of your heartbeat and the soothing motion of your fingertips running up and down his back.

Once you had woken up, you couldn't fall asleep anymore so you opted for finally getting started on that book you bought; getting up quietly as to not wake your favorite ARC Trooper. You had pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and left him to finish his nap, instead sitting down on the living room couch.

But now that Fives was awake, it didn't take long for him to show up in the doorframe, dressed in black pajama shorts and a loose fitted blue 79s shirt he, according to his own words, had won in a Karaoke competition. You gave him a soft smile. "Slept well?", you asked before returning your attention to the datapad you were reading on.

"Hmm... I missed you though", he mumbled and made you laugh with the almost pouting tone in which he said it. He sat down beside you and wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning against you and resting his chin on your shoulder. You could tell right away he was in a clingy mood and when Fives wanted attention, he wasn't exactly subtle. The way he had basically slumped against you with his whole body weight and attempted to snuggle up to you, despite your sitting position and the way you were holding that datapad making it pretty difficult, had already given you an idea of his current state.

But when you continued reading instead of putting the datapad aside and giving him the affection he was looking for, Fives decided he had to dial it up a notch. "Cyare...", he started carefully, turning his head on your shoulder to press a few soft kisses to your neck that tickled you, "you know I'm only on leave for a couple of days... then they're putting me back in the danger roulette with all the separatists, clankers and evil alien machines that want to kill me."

He sat up and and put a finger to your chin, turning your head towards him and pecking your lips gently. "You're the only thing I look forward to when I'm on leave... well besides not having to fear for my life", he continued and you let out a sigh. Fives nuzzled your cheek, leaving a few kisses on your skin every once in a while. You paid him no mind. There was however a subtle smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You couldn't deny that you liked Fives being a little clingy and sappy sometimes.

Fives wondered whether you had understood that he craved your affection. "Can I kiss you?", he asked and poked your other cheek with his pointer finger, resting his chin on your shoulder once more. "I really want to kiss you."

You wrapped an arm around his shoulder, gently running a hand through his hair. "Believe it or not, I got that cyare", you chuckled and your tone softened a little. "Let me just finish up this chapter. Shouldn't take more than 10 minutes."

Fives' response to that was attempting to sit down on your lap, pushing your datapad closer to your face due to the proximity. You looked up from the device and gazed at him through half-lidded eyes, raising your eyebrows. "You're a pain, you know that?"

He chuckled. "You don't mean that."

You let out a sigh and handed him the datapad. "Can you put this on the table for me?"

There was a triumphant smirk on his face when Fives took the item from you and leaned back, turning slightly to place the datapad on the living room table behind him. Once he had turned towards you again, he inched closer to you on your lap and you snuck your arms around his waist, pulling him flush to your chest. You could feel his weight on your legs, knowing he was technically too heavy for you to keep him here for long, but you tried to brush that thought aside.

Fives was so close to you now that you could feel his breath on your lips and he smiled at you softly; a loving gaze in his eyes before he cupped your face with his hands and pressed his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and kissed back immediately, slowly and lightly pecking his lips with your own. You could feel his lower lip slightly tremble under yours and you went to gently pluck on it with your lips. Fives let out a content sigh and pressed a more firm kiss to your mouth, then your cheek and several spots along your jawline.

"I love you so much...", he mumbled between kisses, making you smile at him.

"I love you too", you responded quietly, pulling him in for another round of kisses to his lips, your tongue gently sliding over his bottom lip and being met with a sweet taste. You pulled away for a moment, smirking at Fives. "Are you wearing lip balm?"

Fives chuckled slightly. "Had to. How else am I supposed to convince you to keep kissing me?"

"What makes you think I'd say no to that?", you pressed another soft kiss to his lips and Fives went in for another two as soon as you pulled away.

"You just did", he responded, thinking back to you reading on the couch.

"No, I said 'wait a second'", you reminded him and Fives grinned.

"If we spend all our time waiting, life passes us by", he proudly proclaimed and you rolled your eyes.

"Do not give me words of wisdom to justify your abysmal lack of patience", you laughed and Fives chuckled as well. "What flavor is this anyway? The lip balm?"

"It said bubblegum peach on the package", he answered and you shook your head with a smile at the mental image of the 501st elite ARC Trooper, slayer of battle droids, walking into a drug store and buying something called 'bubblegum peach lip balm' just to kiss you later. Then again, that was something Fives would do. "Do you like it?"

You pondered the question for a moment, chuckling to yourself. "Jury's still out on that one", you teased and pulled him close again, pressing your lips flush against his before opening your mouth slightly. Fives' plucked at your lower lip gently before his tongue slid in to meet yours in a loving, slow kiss. You felt a fluttering sensation in your stomach and Fives wrapped his arms around your neck, the motion lifting his shirt a little. You shifted the position of your arms and wrapped them around his exposed midriff, your fingers gently drawing circles onto his sides; something you had learned did not tickle him in the slightest.

Fives kissed you slowly but passionately, pouring all his love for you into the gesture and you knew what he tried to convey without him needing to say anything. He had missed you. You had felt the same way while he was away on the campaign. This was him making up for all the times you both had been laying alone in bed at night, wishing to be able to hold the other. Fives already called you every day if possible, sneaking out of the barracks at night in secret to contact you and let you know that he was okay; that he loved you and thought about you. You thought about his brothers and wondered what they would think if they could see him sometimes; sitting on your lap like this and kissing you tenderly over and over again. The difference from seeing him decapitate droids in battle was probably jarring.

You smiled against his lips at the thought, almost letting out a chuckle as Fives attempted to snuggle even closer to you, his tongue moving against yours in a gentle motion. You didn't know how long you remained like this. It was easy to lose track of time when Fives was all you could focus on and he kissed you like you were his favorite thing in the galaxy. He said you were, at least. You vaguely remembered him having followed that up with listing "beds that don't feel like concrete" and "fruity mocktails at 79s" for second and third place.

Sometimes it felt like you could go on like this forever, getting lost in the sensation of his kisses and forgetting about the rest of the galaxy; about the war. For those few days you spent together when he was on leave, a future where the two of you didn't have to worry about keeping secrets and fighting battles seemed almost in reach. You pulled away after a while, noticing how your legs were beginning to feel a little numb from the weight of carrying Fives and you gestured him to lay down.

Once he had done that, you snuggled close to him on the couch, pressing a few lazy kisses to his lips before Fives lifted his head to press one to your forehead, his nose brushing against yours as he did so. You slid down a little to rest your head against his chest, burying your face in the fabric of his shirt. For something they gave away at a Karaoke competition in a clone bar, the shirt was of surprisingly good quality and soft; the comforting sensation made complete by the warmth that Fives radiated. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, resting his chin on top of your head.

"I still can't believe I'm this lucky", you mumbled and felt his chest rising and falling with every breath. Fives chuckled softly.

"I feel the same way sometimes. A lot of times actually", he had a content smile on his lips and closed his eyes, enjoying holding you in his arms like this. "Want to continue that holofilm later we started on my last leave but never finished?"

You shrugged. "I honestly didn't like that one that much", you admitted and Fives grinned as an idea hit him.

"Then how about a Fives original?", he chuckled and looked at you with a mischievous smile. "Do you want to see Hardcase and Jesse look for the hidden stash of gold from a pirate group in the freezer of 79s? They made me promise not to show the recording to any of our brothers but you're not one of my brothers, so..."

You laughed. "I don't think they'd appreciate if you showed their drunk misadventures to me though."

Fives sighed. "Yeah they wouldn't... still, do you want to see it? I made it a montage and put funny music over it too."

You chuckled and smirked up at him. "Are you kidding? Of course I want to see it."

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Heeyyy, if u take requests and your alright with it, may I request eddie and venom x reader (established relationship) smut? Whatever it is can be up to you.

~Pleasure Beyond Pleasure~

Pairing: Reader x Venom & Eddie

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: alright got lots to cover; oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, tentacle fucking, DP, anal, creampie, overstimulation, there's some praise kink in there- there's like... suspension??? unprotected sex (be safe they're stealing rights out here), squirting, nipple play, there's so much going on omg

Genre: Smut- as requested, some fluff in there too (bc aftercare is SO important)

Summary: Venom stumbles upon something that makes him want to show you another side of him.

A/N: This ask gave me so much leeway??? I hope you like what I came up with????? :D

***

You hear the apartment door swing open as you're pulling on one of your boyfriend's hoodies, it's not cold you just like to wear his clothes and now that you live together you take full advantage of that.

"Babe? I'm back with food! Where'd ya go?" Eddie shouts as he shuts the door behind him.

"Stealing your clothes!" You call back as you walk out of his room to meet him.

"Hello, gorgeous." Eddie says pulling you towards him with an arm around your waist.

"You saw me like twenty minutes ago." You laugh.

"Any time is far too long away from you." He winks kissing you dizzyingly before going into the kitchen.

"Well we live together Eddie, you'll have plenty of time with me." You hum. You and Eddie recently moved into a two bedroom apartment together and so far it's been pretty much perfect.

"Will be utilizing that. What do you want to drink baby?" He asks, sticking his head in the fridge.

"Do we have any more fruit punch?" You ask.

"Yeah, you know V wanted me to buy like 5 of them when I was grocery shopping the other day."

"What? Why?" You laugh grabbing the bag of takeout and walking it over to the coffee table in the living room. You take out the two containers in the bag and figure out which one is yours while Eddie pours your juice for you.

"Well because it's your favorite and he was adamant that we should never run out."

"You explained to him that it's not that serious right?" You ask.

"Of course I did." He scoffs kissing the top of your head as he joins you on the couch. "He still made me grab an extra one so- that's in the pantry." Eddie says and you laugh.

"What a cutie." You hum. "You fed him, right?"

"Yeah, he had like 5 chocolate bars on the way to get food."

"Alright, dinner time then." You say grabbing the TV remote to put on the show you and Eddie are currently binging. This is your nightly routine, you have dinner together while watching a show and catching each other up on your respective days. You both find that it's the perfect way to wind down at the end of the day. When the food is finished Eddie stands to clear your plates so you pause the show.

"Oh, Eddie can you grab my phone charger from my room, please? Should be by the side table." You tell him.

"Yeah sure." He darts down the hall into your room but it's not Eddie that returns.

"CHOCOLATE DROP!" Venom says.

"Oh hey V, was wondering when you'd make an appearance."

"EDDIE SAYS YOU'LL NEED TO ADJUST TO LIVING WITH US- ME BEING AROUND ALL THE TIME."

"Aw no, you know I love you Venom." You frown a bit, reaching up to pat his smooth cheek. Eddie wasn't exactly shy about his unusual situation- he told you about Venom relatively early, a few months after you made things official but it wasn't until after you'd been together over a year that you actually met Venom. After a year, you think you're quite used to him even if you've only moved in with the duo a couple of weeks ago.

"I HAVE A QUESTION FOR YOU." Venom announces.

"Shoot."

"WHAT IS THIS?" He asks holding up your sparkly purple vibrator.

"I sent yall in there for a phone charger and that's what you came back with?" You laugh.

"I tried to stop him. He does not listen." Eddie reappears but Venom's head pokes out from behind him, still holding your toy.

"It's a vibrator Venom." You tell him.

"A VIBRATOR?" His head tilts curiously.

"Here give it to me." You hold out your hand and he drops the toy onto it. You turn on the toy and grab his- tentacle that was holding the toy- pressing it gently to the appendage.

"OH. STRANGE." Venom concludes.

"Yes, sort of. On certain parts of the body, it's very stimulating. You can use it to have an orgasm." You explain turning off the toy.

"IS EDDIE NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO DO THAT?" Venom's eyes squint in confusion.

"Venom!?" Eddie's tone is incredulous as you break into giggles at the question.

"Okay first of all V, I use it when I'm alone, I've never needed it to make an appearance in bed with Eddie." You explain through laughter.

"Yeah. Exactly." Eddie huffs.

"Secondly sweetie, and this is for both of you, toys in the bedroom are not an indicator of poor performance. They're a fun addition. Like how you enhance your host's capabilities Venom."

"I'M WAY BETTER THAN SOME NOISY PIECE OF PLASTIC." Venom says indignantly.

"You are so missing my point, big guy." You laugh. Eddie lets out a shocked sound that grabs your attention.

"What's wrong E?" You ask him with a concerned frown.

"Nothing." He shakes his head.

"Well what was that noise?" You ask.

"I may not be able to stop Venom from sharing his thoughts with me but I can kind of stop him from sharing them with you. Trust me you don't wanna know." Eddie says shifting slightly.

"What are you talking about? I'm more than capable of handling Venom." You scoff. Eddie's eyes screw shut for a moment while Venom grins wickedly.

"Venom what the hell are you doing?" You ask the alien directly.

"Don't answer that." Eddie snaps at him.

"No. Answer me." You say.

"I'M JUST SHOWING EDDIE ALL THE WAYS I'M SO MUCH BETTER THAN SOME SILLY BUZZY STICK." Venom says.

"What?" You chuckle a bit at the phrasing.

"He is being absolutely vile in my head." Eddie huffs.

"YOU CAN PRETEND TO DISLIKE IT ALL YOU WANT EDDIE BUT DO NOT FORGET I AM YOU." Venom says.

"I am confused." You say.

"WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SHOW YOU WHAT I'VE SHOWN HIM?" Venom asks you.

"I dunno if I wanna be your host tonight V."

"That is not what he means." Eddie says.

"Well then stop being weird and tell me what he means."

"I CAN GIVE YOU MORE PLEASURE THAN ANY- VIBRATOR YOU COULD POSSIBLY OWN."

"Oh-" You breathe out, caught off guard by the promise in his words.

"WILL YOU LET ME?" He asks. You hesitate. You've taken things very slow when it comes to Venom. At least compared to Eddie. To be fair you didn't know about Venom at first and while you do care for the alien you're not always clear on how much your relationship with Eddie bleeds into his with Venom, although- it seems that as far as they're concerned it's one and the same.

"O-okay." You finally say. Now is as good a time as any to solidify your relationship with Venom in ways you've already done with Eddie.

"Are you sure? You don't even know what you're signing up for." Eddie scans your face, perhaps looking for some sign of reproach.

"I'm sure. I trust you. Both of you." You nod.

"GOOD." Two, three, four tentacles slither out from- Eddie's back you suppose, and wrap around you, pulling you off the couch and towards him.

"I should warn you the tentacles are a bit... unpredictable. They can change shape and size according to what they're being used for and they have a tendency to- wander without warning." Eddie tells you, not before one of the tentacles slides under your- Eddie's hoodie, and up your stomach.

"Oh." You gasp at the cool feeling against your bare skin but you can't react beyond that before Venom is leaning over to kiss you. You feel Eddie's hands settle on your waist while Venom's tongue explores your mouth fiercely. Tentacles tug your shorts and underwear down quicker than you can process.

"You'll be a bit rag-dolled for a while, the uh- tentacles will position you however we need." Eddie says once Venom has ended your kiss. Tentacles pull the hoodie over your head and you're now bare in front of two pairs of eyes that take a few moments just to drink you in before those tentacles begin moving again. Two of them wrap around your breasts, the tips toying with your nipples, while another slips between your legs circling your clit.

"SO PRETTY." Venom hums as your body bows and bends from his touch. "I'M GOING TO RUIN YOU."

"Oh god." You whimper as his tentacle against your clit seems to split, teasing your entrance while still rolling your clit in maddening circles.

"I love your little sounds so much." Eddie says gently tugging your chin so you'll look at him. When your legs start to wobble beneath you from the pleasure building like a fire in your veins, tentacles raise you entirely off the ground, holding you in the air on your back, legs spread wide enough for Venom and Eddie to watch as a tentacle shallow fucks your hole. You squirm in Venom's hold, and while the tentacles allow your body to thrash they certainly give no leeway for your position.

"F-fuck I'm close. I'm close I-" Your desperate whines are stopped abruptly when another appendage makes itself at home between your lips. A tentacle fucks into your throat in time with the one stretching your pussy and you can only moan around it as your hips search for more.

"YOUR MOUTH FEELS AS GOOD AS YOUR PUSSY DOES." Venom grunts.

"You look so gorgeous all stuffed baby. Letting Venom turn you into a fuckdoll like this- our beautiful dirty little slut." Eddie coos at you. You whine at his words although it's garbled by the large tentacle still filling your mouth.

"OH SHE LIKES THAT. BEING CALLED OUR LITTLE SLUT. BEING A FUCKDOLL. SHE LIKES IT A LOT. SHE'S SQUEEZING ME REALLY TIGHT." Venom tells Eddie.

"I bet she is. You should see what happens when you make her cum V- it's like a vice grip." Eddie says. Venom's eyes light up as he focuses on pulling you over the edge, the tentacle against your clit rubs faster, harder, deadlier- you barely have time to prepare for it when your orgasm hits you. It's sudden and strong enough that you're practically screaming around Venom's tentacle in your mouth as your body shakes from the force of it.

"SO- TIGHT." Venom growls.

"Told ya." Eddie muses. Still recovering, you barely register the tentacles that hold you in place moving you until Venom's tongue is lapping at your core feverishly. Sensitive from the orgasm you just had, your moans are more like high-pitched squeals as overstimulation fights against the onslaught of pleasure Venom is giving you. You can't stop shaking as he eats you out, his tongue is long and thick, fucking you as harshly as his tentacles just did with ease. He explores your insides noisily, slurping and humming his approval at your taste. Tongue not leaving you, he flips you in the air so you're facing the floor several feet above it. Eddie stares up at your pleasure-squeezed face as Venom brings you to your second orgasm, your body thrashing as it comes.

"Still with us pretty girl?" Eddie asks you. When your eyes open, you've moved again. You're at eye level with Eddie, facing him, tentacles hold your legs wide open on either side of his waist.

"Still with you." You pant.

"Good." He caresses your cheek so sweetly in contrast to how Venom has been manhandling you for the past- who knows how long. The tender moment doesn't last long though as tentacles impale you on Eddie's dick seconds later and your back arches as you moan at the intrusion.

"Oh Fuck." You let out. A tentacle around your waist seems to be primarily responsible for this but you're sure several are working together as Venom moves you up and down Eddie's length with ease. Eddie's a mess of curses and groans letting himself get lost in the feeling of your warmth since Venom is doing all the work.

"I WANT ALL OF YOU CHOCOLATE DROP." Venom says.

"God! Take it Venom. Take all of me. It's yours, both of yours. Holy fuck. Please." You pant out through moans. A tentacle slides between your asscheeks, caressing your free hole much like a tongue would.

"EVEN HERE? YOU'LL LET ME TAKE HERE TOO?" Venom asks.

"YES! Yes please Venom! Oh my god!" You wail clinging to Eddie. That tentacle slowly breaches your asshole and the whine you let out at being so full is music to both of their ears.

"Fuck- we'll have to double fuck you more often if that's how you react princess." Eddie groans.

"Oh yes, please. Please do it more. Fill all my holes." You moan.

"PERFECT. YOU ARE THE PERFECT SLUT." Venom tells you stuffing your mouth with a tentacle once again. It's becoming entirely too much to keep track of, being fucked on Eddie's dick, Venom filling your ass and mouth, tentacles sliding over any free patch of skin they can find, the pleasure you're feeling is nothing short of overwhelming. A tentacle sliding between you and Eddie to toy with your swollen clit pushes you practically into delirium. You're a nonstop stream of high-pitched whines and moans stifled only by the tentacle you're choking on, your body is trembling and spasming as another orgasm hits you, this one squirting all over Eddie and you and your living room floor but Venom doesn't stop. He splits the tentacle fucking your ass now stuffing the hole twice as full, he brings another tentacle to join Eddie's dick in your puffy swollen cunt, he keeps fucking your throat, toying with your nipples, rolling your clit in tight circles. You're so full, so overstimulated, that you're certain you're going to pass out, you can't do anything except scream and moan and thrash and take it. Take everything he's giving you. Take every tentacle he's stuffing you with. Take every orgasm he's forcing you to have. He takes three more from you and even forces two from Eddie before his tentacles finally slow. When his release joins the mess of yours everywhere you feel absolutely drowned in cum.

"V- that was way too much." Eddie pants out. He's in much better shape than you are though also exhausted. You can't even open your eyes as you listen to them speak. You think you're moving but you're floating so far away from here you can't say for sure.

"I DIDN'T KILL HER." Venom says.

"Well yeah but- she's not gonna let you touch her for at least a few days now." Eddie warns him. Water's running.

"I SAID I WOULD RUIN HER!"

"You passed ruining her after like 4 orgasms V." Eddie sighs. "You do everything so to the extreme."

"YOU KNEW WHAT I WAS PLANNING."

"I thought you'd take it easy on her as you've never even been with her before man." Warm. You're surrounded by warmth. A bath you think, though you still can't open your eyes to check. The wall of heat behind you tells you Eddie's in with you.

"I HAD TO SHOW HER I WAS BETTER THAN THAT PIECE OF PLASTIC."

"You're so competitive." Eddie chuckles.

"WELL YES. WHY SHOULD SHE NEED THAT IF SHE HAS US?"

"When she wakes up and tells you not to come near her for two weeks I don't want to hear any complaints."

"TWO WEEKS?!"

You stop listening at that point, your body finally feeling like you're fully back inside it. Everything is heavy, you were floating before now you're made of lead. You still feel weightless but as in the way an anchor floating to the bottom of the ocean would feel weightless. Moments pass and you're eventually removed from the blanket of warmth you were just in. Before you can vocalize your protest you're wrapped again in something fluffy. A towel. You're really trying hard to keep track of what's happening as you're moved again, this time dropped eventually in a bed.

"Cuddles." You barely manage to mumble the word out but it seems your boyfriend gets the hint and you feel the bed dip beside you and his arms pull you into his side. You finally settle completely, letting sleep pull you in with one final thought; with these two things will never be boring.

***

[ariseur]

id like to request a zack fair x reader... they're college roomates and zacks a total flirt and while reader denies it for funsies, after a really bad date with some frat boy, zack comforts her and she changes her mind?

micellar water 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

zack fair (ffvii) x fem!reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

hii!! i didnt really specify that they were in college or who it was that reader had a bad date with, this is kinda in zack’s pov and him just being super whipped for you!! this is probably like the longest fic i’ve made so far soo.. i hope you guys enjoy lol

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of crying, mentions of kissing (eww!! cooties!!), zack’s just super sweet but also super goofy— like he’s the dude to say ‘scruba dub dub’ in the shower type goofy, him waiting for reader and utterly being the ultimate retriever bf (or more so friends to lovers in this), lmk if i missed anything 💕

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1789 words, 9782 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“woah, you look hot—!” you scoffed, hearing the grin in zack’s voice from behind you while he sat on the couch. you looked at yourself in the mirror, seeing how the sleek dress hugged your figure as you fixed your hair, curves shown on display.

you snickered as you watched zack stare at you, feigning awe with his jaw dropped low and a hand hovering over his mouth. “yeah, yeah. save it for later, i got somewhere to be.” you tsk’ed as your eyes flickered around the living room, searching for your shoes. walking down the hall, you shouted, “did you hide my shoes again, zack?”

a beat of silence passes before you zack’s guilty voice traveled from the living room into the hallway, “maybe.”

zack pouted as you made your way back, huffing as you spotted your pumps placed not-so-subtle-y under his sword. “maybe i just don’t want you going out with another asshole again.”

“he wasn’t that much of an asshole—“

“he smelled like it—“

with the glare you gave him, zack decided to shut up seeing the heel protectively clutched in your hand. sure, you went out with a lot of shitty guys, zack thought. but it was nothing you couldn’t ever handle before.

your face quickly shifted to a sly grin, standing upright as you primped once again, perfecting your look. “why, you jealous, zack?”

“no, just being the cool ultimate amazing friend that i always am.” he stated it so matter of fact like— when really, the word “friend” left his tongue rather thickly, the word almost dying at the back of his throat. he’d never tell you, he thought. he didn’t want to ruin what you both had with some stupid feelings of his own.

you let out an unconvincing, “sure, sure.”

zack surfed through the channels on the tv, sprawled out on the couch as he still felt his legs burn from the amount of squats he had done after training. he pressed his lips disappointedly at how the tv lacked any good shows before he heard you yelp, “shit! it’s eight—!”

tilting his head at your clambering, he sat there in bemusement as he watched you run out the door— until your head popped in one last time, “food, fridge, i’ll be back before midnight!”

but as the door shut in a hurry, zack leaned his head back against the arm of the sofa. the apartment was silent except for the low crackling volume of whatever crappy show played on tv. his chest rose and fell as he let out a big sigh, slumping against the couch as his eyes drifted towards the wall.

great, he was alone and his unceremonious attempts at hiding your shoes failed. he almost felt dissatisfied, why couldn’t you just see that he liked you? or better yet, why couldn’t he just admit he liked you so you could reject him and get over it? zack wore his heart on his sleeve, so why was it so difficult now?

one hour turned into two, and two into three. it took everything for zack just to keep himself occupied. he moved around the apartment restlessly— doing squats, watching shit tv, even trying so far as to try making a new dish. keyword: try.

after a whole day of pretty much doing nothing waiting for you to come home, he decided to just tire himself out enough to pass out on the couch, sleep being his last resort. he lolled his head on the arm of the couch, resting it in the dent left from the hours before. zack took one last look at the clock as it read eleven o’clock. letting out a sigh, he closed his eyes while shifting on the small sofa trying to get comfortable. nothing much better to do when waiting then take a nap to speed up the process, yeah?

but when zack jolted awake at the sound of the door slamming, he sat upright while his eyes searched the room. not even having time to rub the sleep from his eyes, he looked around.

now dark with only the tv as his light source, the clock on the wall now read twelve o’five and your heels were now carelessly thrown against the door. zack turned his head towards the new source of light and was met with the bright luminescent rays of the bathroom accompanied with your silhouette in the doorway. and at first glance, zack would’ve brushed it off as you just being lazy— but his thoughts changed when he heard the wet sniffles and broken sighs, his ears perked up.

his back hit the cold air once he got up, leaving the warmth of the couch and making his way over to the lit bathroom. mako tinted eyes adjusted to the light as they settled on your blurry figure, hunched over the sink with eyeliner smudged across your eye while you tried to catch your breath— and that woke him up real quick.

“zack—!” you said, and god, did your shaky voice make his heart ache. his body reacted on its own accord, arms immediately reaching out towards you and embracing you. zack put one hand on the back of your head as your body shook with silent sobs. he could feel the tears starting to stain his shirt, one of his favorites although that didn’t seem to matter now that he didn’t mind it being coated with your sorrow.

he heard a small voice next to his ear, wavering as you tried maintain your composure as you said, “i’m sorry i woke you up.” with a comforting hand on his back, you rubbed at the trail of his spine, unknowing that zack’s eyebrows were knit together with a strong bewilderment— you’re over here crying, and you’re apologizing over waking him up?

“don’t say that.” he told you, and you could’ve sworn his arms locked around you tighter. trying to lighten the mood, he gives a weary chuckle, “i needed to wake up anyways.”

you didn’t laugh though, simply soaking in the affection brought upon you until he finally pulled away. the hand that kept you at arms length squeezed your shoulder while you sniffled and wiped under your eyes. “‘m glad i wore waterproof mascara, today.”

his lips twitched downwards, watching as you made a weak attempt to brush his concern off. “what happened tonight?”

and that seemed to make you cry even harder, making zack curse himself as his eyes widened. “okay—! okay! don’t answer—don’t answer that!” he stammered, trying in a desperate attempt to get you to stop crying. he didn’t know why he’d even ask that to a person who was currently sobbing and probably needed space?

“here, just..”

a loud yelp left your lips once you felt zack’s hands lift you up from the underside of your thighs and place you on the bathroom counter, the cold ceramic a deep contrast against the warmth of your skin.

you let yourself settle as you watched zack rummage through the wooden drawers of the sink, grumbling something along the lines of, “where’s that stupid water..?”

you cleared your throat, “what water?”

“the stupid water you use when you have the waterproof thingy on.”

“..micellar water?”

“yes! that—!” he pointed his finger at you in agreement, watching as you leaned over and opened the first drawer and pointed out the small clear tub of the product. he looked around in search of something— before letting out a small, “aha!” sound once he found a small towel. you softly grinned as you watched him douse the rag in a copious amount of

makeup remover, not even bothering to wring it out before turning towards you with a triumphant grin.

you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of his calloused hands— gentle under your chin while the other one wiped the makeup off your face. he made sure to softly pat your eyes, making sure to try and rid all the mascara off your lashes as best as he could without being too rough.

“y’see? i told you i was the coolest awesomest friend ever, didn’t i?” zack finally said. even with his teasing grin, his tone remained uncharacteristically soft.

“‘cool ultimate amazing friend’.” you corrected him, the corners of your lips quirking upwards while you talked. zack was lucky you couldn’t see his smile right now, just happy to admire yours in the dim white lighting of the bathroom. “right.” he said, nodding his head as if you could see him now.

he set the towel down as he examined your eyes, making sure he got all the makeup off. fluttering your eyes open, you gazed back at zack. in any other scenario, he would’ve brushed his staring off and used the makeup as an excuse— but really, even with your puffy eyes and swollen lips, and even in the cheap apartment complex lighting, he’d still think you’re beautiful. maybe the dingy details of the bathroom and the close proximity made it more intimate than needed.

leaning forward, your eyes flickered between his lips and his eyes, ensuring that he wanted the same thing as you. and when he had met you in the middle, bridging the gap between your parted lips with his own, it’s like a wave of coolness washed over his body. your hands came up to rest upon his jaw while he thought to himself; this was all he ever wanted, his dream girl right in front of him let alone kissing him.

sighing, you pulled away for a moment— hands still rested on his face. his eyes held nothing but adoration for you when he gazed up at you, the small height difference causing his eyes to look even more ethereal in the light, swirls of mako and the overhead bulbs evident in his dazed eyes. he only chased your lips for a split second before you let out a small laugh and a sniffle. he wasn’t just a ‘rebound’, you thought to yourself, zack fair was a man worth much, much more.

he closed his eyes and leaned in for one more kiss, hand on the back of your head as it buried itself in your hair, but not before mumbling against your lips a quick, “am i still the most ultimate awesomest friend ever?”

you grinned, “do you wanna be?”

“you’re over here sat on the counter kissing your ‘cool ultimate friend’—“

“‘cool ultimate amazing friend’—“

zack pouted, tilting his head before you leaned in for another kiss, removing the dramatic curve of his lips. you groaned in exasperation once he pulled away again, he was just teasing at this point, wasn’t he?—

“i think cool ultimate amazing boyfriend sounds better.” he grinned cheekily.

[mouwrites]

Hey hey hi hi!!

CONGRATS ON 300 FOLLOWERS - YOU'RE VERY COOL AND I LOVE YOUR WRITING 🤩🌟

I'd like to request a Ninjago oneshot! With a ninja reader and Lloyd (they've been dating for a little while at this point, they're not new to the relationship) with the prompts

8) Come here, let me hold you

15) You're safe with me

Perhaps it's the reader comforting Lloyd? I don't really mind, but they are both the most physically affectionate people you have ever met

I hope you have a good day <3

AAH you’re so sweet,, thank you so much!!! And here you go, my dear!!

Word count: 1k

Ninjago - 8. “Come here. Let me hold you.” and 15. “You’re safe with me.” (Lloyd) (300 follower special)

You had been relaxing on the couch for a while before Lloyd walked into the room. You smiled pleasantly at him in a friendly greeting, and he smiled wanly in return. You hadn’t quite noticed how off the smile was, partly because he was in the kitchen while you were in the living room of your apartment. The distance wasn’t too significant, but it was far enough that you missed it.

You had just gone back to your scrolling, completely ignoring whatever Lloyd was doing in the kitchen. At length it was the fact that he wasn’t doing anything that caught your attention.

You looked up, curious at the lack of noise. When you go to the kitchen, you’re supposed to be clattering around getting something to eat, but Lloyd had been entirely silent. He was sitting at the table with his hands clasped tightly, staring at the surface in front of him.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’cha doing?”

Lloyd didn’t react. You saw his strained hands shift a little, frowning as his fingers began to curl to dig into his skin.

“Lloyd?”

Still no response. Now you were getting worried. “Lloyd,” you said again, sitting up.

The rustling noise of you shifting seemed to finally catch his attention. His green eyes flicked over to you for a second, then lingered on the ground off to the side, then finally returned to the table.

“There have been so many times,” he said slowly, “that I’ve almost died.”

His brows were furrowed, and yours followed suit.

“I’ve been doing it since I was a little kid. I can’t even count the number of times that… that…” He closed his eyes, shaking his head and letting it hang low.

You weren’t sure what to say. He spoke again before you could think of anything.

“I’ve been so lucky. Unbelievably lucky. But… I can’t help but wonder if my luck is running out. I’ve just been doing this so long, and my fortune can’t last forever.”

Now he was chewing his lip, and his fingernails were planted firmly in his skin. You could see his chest moving strangely as his breathing became quicker and less steady.

“You can’t say things like that.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” He looked at you, distress brimming in his eyes.

Your face hardened. “No.”

Lloyd kept your gaze for a moment before turning away. His entire body was tense; clearly he wasn’t listening.

“Come here,” you said, your tone much gentler. “Let me hold you.”

Lloyd stood with his gaze remaining trained on the ground, shuffling over to you and plopping down beside you. He entwined his hands between his knees, resuming his tight grip on his own skin, and kept his eyes lowered.

You wrapped an arm around him, pulling him down as you reclined on the couch. His head landed on your stomach, and you began stroking his hair.

“Who knows? Maybe next time will be…” Lloyd wondered aloud, his mouth hanging open as it failed to let out the last words.

“No,” you said again, shaking your head. “Nothing of the sort will happen to you.”

“How do you know? It doesn’t even have to be in battle. I’ve made so many enemies in my life, who’s to say one won’t just burst through the door at any moment to kill me?”

“Lloyd, I don’t like you talking like that. Why are you thinking about this?”

Lloyd looked down at his hands, which were now resting at his hips. He gave a shrug.

“Well, I’m not going to make you tell me, but I’m also not going to let anything bad happen to you. Even if the universe gives up, or your so-called luck runs out, I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

Lloyd looked up at you, his round eyes suddenly glistening with tears. “You promise?”

“I promise. You’re safe with me.” You held out your little finger to make a pinky promise.

Lloyd finally unlocked his hands and brought one up to hook his pinky with yours. You quickly shifted your grip to hold his hand completely in a clever scheme to get him to give his fingers (and skin) a break from his claw-like grasp.

Lloyd smiled slightly, easing into your touch with a soft squeeze around your hand. He brought it to his lips, planting a lingering kiss on your knuckles.

You smiled back. With your free hand you gently combed through his golden locks, brushing stray strands from his forehead so tenderly that Lloyd closed his eyes, exhaling dreamily.

You stayed like that for a while, feeling relieved as you felt Lloyd’s body relax. In fact, you were sure he was asleep after a while, but his eyes slitted open and he murmured: “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I’m glad to be here.”

Lloyd placed a hand on his chest as if affirming he really was a tangible being, and a smile found his lips when he felt his heart beating in his ribcage. “I’m glad to be here too.”

He brought his other hand to feel the dull drumming, taking your hand with it. You couldn’t resist a peaceful smile when you felt the steady rhythm as well.

“Can I hold you now?”

You nodded, shifting your position carefully so that you two were laying parallel on the couch. Lloyd tucked an arm under you and heaved you on top of him, holding your head against his chest. You listened to his heart now, your hands finding their places tucked under the nape of his neck.

Lloyd’s arms were wrapped around your waist, tightening protectively as he said: “I’ll do the same for you, you know.”

You turned to face him, placing your chin on his chest to look him in the eye. His face was glowing with admiration, and you felt your cheeks heat under the intensity of the radiant affection.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he elaborated.

You smiled, returning your head to listen to his heart again, in part to hide your darkening face.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but when you were next aware of yourself your eyes were closed and Lloyd was tracing shapes on your back.

“I love you,” he whispered. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear that, but you stoked a thumb along the curve of Lloyd’s neck in acknowledgement.

“I love you, too.”

“Forever—”

“—and always,” you finished, smiling sleepily as you both drifted off.

Thank you so much for taking part in our event!! And thanks for reading, I really do appreciate all your guys’ support <33

(divider by saradika)

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

The Ripped Jeans

I posted this on ao3 but thought I'd do it here too since it's not too long. I made a little error; this occurs in s11 but I forgot that the gay friends episode (when he wears the ripped jeans) comes before the one about the apartment but whatever. It's fine. In this, they're already at their apartment

////

Mickey should’ve lounging by the pool smokin’ a joint, or sitting on the couch eating a cold slice of pizza, watching some shitty movie he’d seen countless times before. It was his and Ian’s day off, damn it.  So why the fuck did his husband have to drag him out while he bought some more jeans? 

Ugh, Ian was always wanting to do this kinda mundane shit with him now that they were married and not in prison anymore. On any other day, Mickey would’ve went along with it, probably would’ve given him some shit for it too, but today was just not one of those days he wanted to be in the fucking mall . 

Too many other people had the same idea; for mid-morning on a Friday, it was too fuckin’ crowded. The store could’ve been bigger, could’ve not had such shitty hipster sounding music playing overhead. And if one more fucking sales person came over to ask if Mickey needed help, he might just find himself thrown back into prison, and Ian could be pissy about it all he wanted. 

He leaned against the wall, the part of it that wasn’t covered in clothes that were hung up. At least if he had to suffer through this, he coulda been in the dressing room with Ian. Why the hell should he stay out here and wait? Better fucking question; why did Ian have to try them on all? Should’ve just grabbed a couple pairs and be done with it. 

“You done yet?” Mickey called impatiently. 

From the other side of the dressing room, he could hear Ian blowing out puffs of air in frustration. “ No .” 

“The fuck is taking you so long?” 

Not too far away, a woman was pushing along a stroller with her young daughter strapped in it. She shot Mickey a nasty look. He flipped her off. 

“Fuck you. You wanna act all high and mighty? Go be with those North Side yuppies.” 

“ Mickey ,” came Ian’s exasperated voice. “Leave them alone and help me.” 

Help him, ay? He could work with that. 

“Sure thing, Lover,” Mickey said slyly, pushing himself off the wall and over to the dressing room door. “Ain’t gotta tell me twice.” 

“That’s not what I meant, Mick,” Ian said dryly. Mickey stopped in his tracks, and scowled. “Can you grab me a couple more pairs to try on? I don’t like the way these fit.” 

“The fuck do I gotta do that for?” 

“Because you’re my husband and you don’t mind doing things for me,” Ian responded. 

“You gonna blow me for it later?” Mickey grumbled. 

“If you’re good,” Ian said, and Mickey could just picture his husband’s lascivious grin. 

Fuck yeah , Mickey thought, making his way over to teh various tables and shelfs. Ian was probably gonna be a little pissed that all he did was grab random styles that were in his size, but he could get the fuck over it. 

Jesus, why were there so damn many kinds of ‘em? And why the fuck were they so expensive? 

At this point, his arms were getting weighed down by the sheer amount of jeans draped over them. But there was one more pair he hadn’t taken yet. He grabbed that one too, taking them back to the dressing room for Ian to try on. 

And hopefully there was something he liked in there so they could get the fuck out of here soon. 

“Mick? You there- oof! ” 

He’d started tossing them over so they’d land in the dressing room. He was gettin’ some disapproving looks from the sales people but he couldn’t care less. 

“Seriously, Mickey? You couldn’t have just let me open the door?” 

“Nah,” Mickey said. “Now hurry the fuck up, Gallagher.” 

“Jesus, fine,” Ian scoffed. There was noise, some shuffling going on in there, and then, one pair of jeans came hurling out of there for Mickey to catch. “Take these back.” 

“What’s wrong with these?” Mickey unfolded them to examine them further. They were black, and ripped at the knees. Didn’t look half bad if he was being honest. 

“I don’t really like ripped jeans,” came Ian’s answer. 

Mickey held onto the jeans just for a minute longer. It was fucking weird. He didn’t usually give a shit about clothes. If they didn’t stink and they fit, that was good enough for him. He’d never given much thought about what he wore. 

But these ....They looked kinda badass. 

Now you’re gonna dress like a faggot? Came the voice of his father, a harsh whisper in his ear that had Mickey freezing up right there. 

Even after all this time, Terry Milkovich had a way of getting his son right where he wanted him to be. 

And suddenly, these jeans felt like they were burning his hands. Mickey quickly balled them up, shoving them into a shelf so he could stand beside the dressing room again. That smile on his face was only half hearted when Ian came out, coyly remarking on how nice and tight this pair was. 

Mickey was aware that Ian was suspicious; he’d been oddly silent on the way out, the drive back, and didn’t even argue with him about what kind of take out they’d have for dinner that night. He just wasn’t ready to talk about it, not right now. 

His thoughts kept drafting, kept taking him back to the hipster store with the ripped jeans. 

Terry woulda never let him even glance in the direction of those things, let alone wear ‘em. And sure, he had no power over Mickey now, had no say in the choices he made in his life. He knew that. 

But that didn’t mean he ever truly left . 

Sometimes his voice was just there , man. It slithered up ‘till it was in his ear, softly reminding him of who he was now- a good for nothing fag - and who he used to be. Most days, Mickey could just tune it out, pretend it wasn’t there. 

Times like this proved to be much more difficult. 

It bothered him, conflicted him that his first inclination upon seeing the jeans wasn't disgust. It wasn’t to make a smart ass remark. He’d liked him, would’ve considered even trying them on too. 

He’d accepted he was gay. Embraced it wholeheartedly just as he knew he’d always love Ian Gallagher. Hell, he’d even worn a fuckin’ dress to get through the boarder. But this...makin’ changes to his clothes was too big of a change.

That evening, as a steady rain came down outside, the sky dark and the windows littered with scattered raindrops, the two of them were sitting comfortably on the couch they’d gotten from Kev and V with containers of Chinese food Ian had bought.  The television was on, but Mickey’s focus was on his husband pathetically trying to use the chopsticks they were given. 

“This is just sad, man,” he said, a small smirk peeking out. 

“Fuck off,” Ian scowled, eyes lighting briefly when he successfully picked up a piece of sesame chicken- but then it fell back into the container and he groaned in disappointment. 

“Just get a fuckin’ fork-” 

“-I can do this!” 

Mckey slurped a lo mein noodle, watching the frustration grow and grow in his husband’s eyes. “S’gonna get cold.” 

“I can do this,” Ian stressed, jaw clenching when yet another piece slipped out of the hold he had on it. “Just give me a minute.” 

His annoyance turned into disbelief when Mickey plucked a piece of chicken right from his container, bringing it right to his mouth with a closed-mouthed cheeky grin. 

“Shoulda been faster,” he said after it was swallowed. “Fucking bastard,” Ian muttered. He ultimately gave up after that, rising to his feet to get a fork, tossing away the chopsticks and coming back with a fuckin’ pout . Plopping back down, he used one hand to affectionately card his fingers through the hair on the back of Mickey’s head. 

Times like these, nights like these where they could relax after a long day of deliveries- or in the case of today, doin’ nothing at all- were what Mickey looked forward to. Who would’ve thought this would be his life now? Goin’ from that kid who was abruptly woke up with a tire iron poking him in the back to stayin’ in this fancy ass apartment with his fucking husband , doing the everyday shit together like it was fuckin’ fate or whatever. 

For a few moments, Mickey watched the TV, not realizing that Ian was openly staring at him. 

“You wanna tell me what’s up?” 

“What?” Mickey tore his eyes away to meet Ian’s. There was some concern, some curiosity. 

“What’s wrong?” Ian repeated. 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong, Firecrotch.” 

“You sure?” Ian couldn’t help but press a little. “You’ve been acting weird since we went shopping. Did something happen?” 

“Did something- Jesus! Would you get off my ass,” Mickey slammed the container of food on the worn coffee table. “Do I have to tell you every fuckin’ thing that goes on with me?” 

“Well, as your husband , I think I have a right to know when you’re upset,” Ian leveled him with a glare. 

“The fuck you do!” 

Ian was taking deep breaths in and out. He rubbed his fingertips on his eyelids. “Is this all because you didn’t want to go shopping?” 

At this, a feeling of hurt seeped into Mickey’s chest. Hurt that quickly changed into anger . That what Ian thought? Didn’t have to think about it, just came to the conclusion that Mickey was acting off because he was forced into something he didn’t wanna do like some fuckin’ child? 

Fuck this movie. Fuck this dinner. Mickey was up on his feet, throwing the fork in the sink, letting it clatter loudly. The food went into the fridge, and he slid his hoodie on. 

“Where are you going?” Ian quickly jumped up. 

“Out,” Mikey said shortly. 

“It’s raining dumbass. Where are you gonna go?” Ian snapped. 

“Don’t care so long as it’s away from your nosy ass,” Mickey made sure his phone was in his pocket, then headed towards the door. 

“Mickey, come the fuck on! Can’t we just talk about this like fucking adults ?” 

There it was again. The insinuation that Mickey was acting like a bratty child. 

“Fuck you, Ian!” He shouted. He left without another word, slamming the door so hard that the next door neighbor banged on the wall.  

All the lights except for the one over the kitchen sink were off when Mickey returned. The TV was off, a sliver of light coming out from their bedroom.

He slid off his boots, throwing his hoodie on the back of the couch, rubbing his eyebrow. Ian was gonna be pissed. He was still a little pissed. 

And he was gonna want an explanation for what that was earlier. 

“Hey,” Mickey said quietly, opening their door to find Ian already in bed with the glow of the night lamp lighting up the room. 

“Hey,” Ian said without looking at him. “You better now?” 

“Yeah, still a little pissed at you,” Mickey said, to which Ian’s head swiveled around in his direction. 

“ Me? What the fuck did I do?” 

He was less angry than earlier, but his tone still held a touch of defensiveness. 

They’d been trying to do better about this stuff now that they were married, communicating and all that shit. Mickey knew it was important but fuck , this was a pain in the ass sometimes. Was it really necessary to talk about every fuckin’ thing? 

“Didn’t have to assume like you did,” Mickey muttered. 

“About what? ” 

Mickey took a deep breath, staring his husband in the eyes. “You thought I was actin off ‘cause I had to go shopping with you.” 

Ian licked his lips, letting the words sink in. “But it wasn’t....was it?” 

“No,” Mickey sat down on the bed, leaning back and letting his gaze longer on the still curtain-less window. 

Briefly, there was nothing but silence. 

“But then what was it?” Ian said, confused. “What was wrong?” 

“Does it matter?” Mickey said with no heat. 

“Mick, of course it matters.” 

Ian reached out to cup his face but Mickey pulled away. “Why do you gotta assume the worst of me?” He asked instead. 

“What?” Ian blinked. 

“You didn’t think something else was wrong?” Mickey didn’t try to disguise the hurt in his voice. “You just thought I was poutin’ or some shit?”

The question had Ian deflating, looking remorseful. “I didn’t...You were complaining before we left,” he said lamely. “I just thought you were mad we didn’t spend all day here like you wanted.” 

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t.” 

Ian scooted closer, his face neatly fitting into the crook of Mickey’s neck. 

“I’m sorry, Mickey. I shouldn’t have assumed.” 

“Damn right you shouldn’t have,” Mickey said, feeling Ian’s lips press a kiss to his neck. “You’re still an asshole, though.” 

“I know,” Ian’s words were muffled against his skin.  “I’m sorry.” 

Mickey tried to curl around his husband, breathing in the scent of Ian and Irish spring soap. “I’m sorry too. Shouldn’t have walked out like that.” 

“You were upset,” Ian reasoned. “At least you didn’t punch me.” 

“Wanted too.”

“But you didn’t,” Ian pulled back, though he was still close enough for Mickey to take him in his arms if he wanted to. “You showed restraint.” 

His eyes were lighter, a smile coming out. He was joking, and it loosened something in Mickey’s chest. 

“Gotta show it once and a while,” Mickey grunted. 

That smile slowly disappeared. Ian, taking a second to think it over, leaned forward to kiss his temple. 

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong now? 

“It’s fucking stupid,” Mickey regretted walking out, regretted making it obvious he was upset over a pair of fucking jeans . 

“You listen when I’m upset about stupid stuff. Besides, we both know how you downplay your shit,” Ian murmured. “Just tell me what’s up, Mick. I’m listening, I promise.” 

How did he even begin to explain this? 

“You remember-” Mickey hesitated for a long while, then tried again, “you remember when I was bringing you stuff to try on?” 

Ian nodded. “What about it?” “You remember how you gave me the ripped jeans back ‘cause you said you didn’t like ‘em?” 

Jesus, don’t be such a fucking pussy. Just tell him. 

“Mick-” Ian started. 

“I liked ‘em,” Mickey said, once he’d cut Ian off. “I liked how they looked.” 

“You did?” Ian said, mildly surprised. “Well, do you want to buy a pair?” 

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Mickey groaned. “I don’t know, okay?” 

Ian nodded slowly. “I’m kinda lost here. You liked the jeans....but why were you upset about that?”

“Why do you think, dumbass?” Mickey sighed. “Fuckin’ Terry.” 

His husband’s eyes darkened. “ Mickey ...” 

Mickey rubbed at his brow again. “They look like something a fag would wear,” he said quietly, finally meeting his eyes again. “S’what he’d say.” 

“Good thing he has no say in any of this,” Ian said firmly. “Mickey, you can wear whatever you want. Terry has no say in your life anymore.” 

“I know that. S’just....” Mickey struggled with his words. “Not easy, man.” 

“I know,” Ian said gently. “I know it’s not. I just want you to remember that you don’t have to be that person anymore. You don’t have to be at Terry’s beck and call. You’ve done so well for yourself, Mick. I’m fucking proud of you. And if you want to wear ripped jeans now, you should do it. I bet you’d look pretty damn sexy if you did.” 

“Ay, cool it, man,” Mickey huffed out a laugh. 

“I told you that you have pretty nice legs,” Ian grinned, letting his hand wander along Mickey’s thigh. “I mean it, though. Don’t let Terry stop you from doing what you want anymore.” 

Mickey considered this, and frowned. “You don’t think I’ll look-” He trailed off, not knowing how to finish. 

Luckily, Ian understood him well enough to know. “You’ll look fucking amazing.” 

“Come on, man.” 

Ian placed his hand on top of Mickey’s. “If it’s what you want, we’ll go back there tomorrow and buy them.” 

“I dunno....”

“Okay,” Ian said after a second of thought, “what if I wanted them? Would I look like a fag?” 

“Fuck no,” Mickey said immediately. 

“Then why would you?” Ian held Mickey’s face in his hands, kissing him softly. “You don’t have to play by his rules anymore. You’re free, Mickey. And you can do whatever you want now.” 

Ian was right...he was fuckin’ free. 

And if he wanted to go buy a pair of ripped jeans, he damn well could. Fuck Terry for making him feel otherwise. 

“Yeah,” Mickey murmured, realizing how many possibilities were open to him. He didn’t have to give a shit anymore. “Guess I can.” 

Ian’s smile was so wide and dorky. “Do you wanna go back tomorrow?” 

“Fine. But we better hit the food court for a cinnamon roll too, bitch.” 

[allthewhumpygoodness]

It's B who's always been the party animal, not A. But they're friends, and B has way more other friends than A does, so where they go, A goes too.

"It'll be good for you," B told them before they set off, throwing an arm around their shoulders. "You need more friends who aren't me."

Maybe, grudgingly, A would agree. Still, they have no desire to spend their night in a stuffy apartment full of drunk people they've never met, either bored out of their mind or anxious out of their skin, depending.

But they're B's friend, so for the first twenty minutes of the party that's exactly what they do.

And for a while, it isn't too bad. The party isn't crazy loud - nobody's smashing windows or dancing on the kitchen table or getting into fistfights - but it's still too much for A to comfortably join in. They spend most of it quietly petting B's cat in the corner, bottled water in hand, giving quick smiles and at most a few words of greeting to whoever notices them. Just-enough smiles, 'I'm-not-a-creep-I-just-have-no-idea-how-to-talk-to-people' smiles. Most people don't talk to them at all, though, so there's no reason for anything more.

After a couple hours, in which A has slowly pried themselves from the corner and the cat and gets used to hovering near the closest snack table, things start getting hazy. The lights in the room are blurring a little, the outlines of people and objects smudging in between blinks - they've never needed glasses before, but this is what they'd imagine it feels like. If they'd been drinking anything other than their own bottled water, they would've worried somebody spiked their drink. They feel weird, and disoriented, and bad.

Worse, whatever this feeling is, it's come on too quickly for them to notice it happening.

After some time they find themselves seated back on the couch, though the cat is now nowhere in sight. Sounds are too loud, even the dim light is too bright, and above all they feel somehow removed from the rest of the room, floating somewhere far away with no roots in the world they're seeing. And they're sniffling. When did their nose start running?

Disjointed as they are, it takes them much too long a moment to realize someone is talking to them.

They turn their head slowly, alarmed at how dizzy it makes them. A face hovers close to theirs, eyebrows raised and expression questioning. They have to blink hard to make the features come into focus.

"I haven't seen much of you tonight," says this new person, a small smile playing on their lips. Flirtatious almost, it clicks into A's fuzzy brain.

"Oh," is all they can say.

"I don't think we've met."

A shakes their head, trying to clear it. "I'm A," they say.

They struggle to remember if they've ever spoken to this person before, but their brain seems to be blocked, leaving them unable to speak let alone think. "You're not B", they say eventually --realizing a second later what a stupid sounding thing to say that is.

But the figure next to them laughs. "Took you long enough to notice. I'm C. Have you had one too many?"

A swallows, their throat tight and scratchy. "I don't drink."

"Okay, I believe you," says C, sounding like they don't believe it at all. "Are you a friend of B's? We've been friends for ages, I'm surprised I've never met you before."

Whenever C moves, it's like a fuzzy halo of light around them shifts a moment after, following just a little too far behind. Their face is bright; it kind of hurts to look at them and it's kind of mesmerizing and A isn't sure what to do.

"Hey, A? Are you with me?"

A blinks, suddenly extraordinarily tired. The face in front of them is swaying and blurring and looks so very wrong...

"I'm fine," they mutter. "Just pretty tired. Long day."

C gives what looks like a sympathetic smile, but their eyebrows form a slight crease. "Are you ok? You're sweating."

"Am I?" They feel chilled if anything, damp and clammy.

With a slight smirk, C folds part of their sleeve over their hand and brushes the fabric across A's forehead. The sleeve melts into their skin. "There," they say, "all better."

But even as the words leave their mouth, their expression changes from playful to concerned, a frown sprouting up. To A's surprise, their hand stays where it was, resting on their temple, then flips over so their knuckles brush the skin on their forehead ever so gently. A can't stop looking at them, the outline of their face is glowing...

"Oh," they say softly, "you've got a fever."

It takes a second for them to process what's being said, because they feel like they're standing halfway inside a weird world where the edges of things melt together and voices are too long and minutes are too tall and surfaces sparkle like dew...and even when they do they have to shake their head, fighting to clear it first. "I...do I?" Does it matter?

There's a soft pressure on their face as C keeps their hand in place. "You feel like you do...why haven't you told anyone you're sick?"

"I'm - not - "

It's like they're looking at a photograph with the contrast turned way up - shadows are so dark they can hardly see the corners of the room anymore, and the lights are blinding. They try shaking their head again, but everything swoops around them like a rocking ship. Is that the earth turning?

C taps them on the shoulder, and then they're standing up and towering over A. "B has a guest room somewhere. Let's go find it, shall we?"

Before they know it they're being pulled to their feet, swaying as the ground swoops out from under them, and gripping the nearest steady thing - which turns out to be C's shoulder. They hadn't realized just how badly off they were until now, only upon standing to they feel how weak and wobbly their knees are, or how badly their back and legs and head ache, how heavy they feel.

They cling to C. The party blends and melts around them; shapes crumbling into one another, sounds too muffled and twisted to make out. It makes A so dizzy they're almost sick to their stomach, struggling to focus on anything that isn't moving.

As it turns out, that one steady thing is C's shoulder.

The rest of the journey is a blur, but the next thing they know they're somewhere much quieter and darker, and a pair of hands is guiding them to lie down on something soft, drawing a warm cover over them.

It takes their brain a moment to catch up. "Whose bed is this?" they mumble once it does.

"It's a guest room," says C's voice from somewhere close by. "B won't mind. I'll check with them later, but I'm sure it'll be fine."

To their horror, A feels tears prickle at the corners of their eyes. Even lying down in the warmth and the dark, they feel so miserable. "B doesn't care about me," they say. They aren't sure where this is coming from, but once it's out, it's out. "They - they left me. I haven't seen them all night. They don't want me here..."

C makes a soft, sympathetic sound. When A opens their eyes again they're sitting near them, one hand gently on their shoulder. "I'm sure B still cares a lot about you, they're just caught up with things right now. Once I tell them you're sick they'll be all over you trying to help, you just wait."

A sniffs. They can't deny C's good at sounding reassuring. "Everything hurts."

"I know. I'm sorry. I wonder what you've caught...if it came on so quickly it could be the flu...why don't I get you some water and a couple painkillers, that should help - "

"Wait, C -" A tries to sit up but right away collapse again in a cold sweat, head swimming. Their fingers find C's sleeve and grip it. "Please don't go yet. Just...just one more minute."

It feels like an hour that C pauses for, not moving. But then they sit down on the edge of the bed, one hand tentatively reaching up to stroke A's hair. "Okay. One more minute."

The shadows are still too dark, oppressive and threatening, while the light from the little lamp C turned on hurts their already sore eyes. But C's hand is gentle and soft, maybe cool and maybe warm but either way it's soothing on their skin.

A hardly knows them - at all - but curling up closer to that kind hand is easy. It's natural. So that's just what A does.

[zaacoy]

fre

freenoodles but they've been such good friends and had their lives intertwined for so long that neither of them can genuinely remember not having the other by their side (or imagine them suddenly never being there again)

freenoodles where they got a two bed apartment together once they graduated college but once baby mk joined the picture one of them (probably pigsy tbh) started sleeping on the couch instead. a few events led to them sharing a bed once(in the non-nsfw way >:/ )And then once became twice. And then twice became a few times. Until eventually it just became normal for baby mk to take one bed and pigsy n tang to share the other. Just sleeping in the same bed under the same covers gradually became cuddled up next to the other falling asleep to their heartbeat and warmth and waking up in the morning tangled with the other

freenoodles where they both began coming up with pet/nick names for the other to annoy them that eventually became affectionate terms

freenoodles where they keep each other in check. Pigsy makes sure that Tang eats enough on days where he's busy enough to forget and Tang drags Pigsy away from working when he's pushed himself too far. freenoodles where they've both got a sixth sense for the either, they know automatically when something is wrong. It first comes as a gut feeling and then becomes obvious once they actually see the other, they can hide that pain from everyone else but each other (and mayyyybe sandy)

freenoodles where pigsy used to sing baby mk to sleep and found out in the process that his lullaby's were also very effective on Tang. Whenever Tang refuses to go to sleep at a healthy hour or when he just can't seem to fall asleep pigsy starts softly singing to him while holding and swaying him lightly and suddenly Tang is out like a light in minutes. Pigsy finds it endearing

freenoodles where they like to dance with each other at times when they're alone. It begins very put together and formal but eventually devolves into both of them spinning each other around the room giggling because they can't help but lose their composure when the other looks at them so lovingly

freenoodles but pigsy brushing out Tang's hair when it was longer and gently carding his hands through his hair afterwards

freenoodles where tang develops the habit of flopping dramatically on top of Pigsy and wresting his chin on Pigsy's head as he does literally anything. Cooking? too bad. In the middle of some other task? Well now he has a tang too. Literally just standing there? flop. Pigsy, knowingly full well by now that talking or nudging Tang off is next to impossible, either let's him stay or stops whatever he's doing to pick up Tang and put him somewhere more convenient

freenoodles but one of them reaches out to hold the others hands when they're uncertain or scared and the other squeezes and holds their hand in return as a gesture of support and comfort

freenoodles where they just like to hold each other in both romantic and just causal ways. Tang intertwining his hand around pigsy's arm and pigsy resting his other hand on Tang's in return. Pigsy grabbing tang by the chest or waist from behind and pulling him into a hug as Tang turns around in his arms to hug him back. One of them moving over to sit right next to the other, both of them leaning onto the other. One of them (probably tang) just sitting in the others lap lightly kicking his feet and hugging the other as they hold him too

freenoodles where they kiss once and pull back for just long enough for one of them to softly laugh or smile back at the other completely smitten before they both melt into another soft kiss

freenoodles but surprise kisses. Tang kissing pigsy quickly out of nowhere on the head while he works before fleeing revenge distance. Pigsy coming and pressing a kiss to Tang's cheek or the back of his hand without any sort of warning whenever he notices Tang spacing out. One of them kissing the other from behind (on the head, neck, shoulder, back I guess) and the other whirling around in surprise before smirking at them and giving them a kiss back.

freenoodles where tang gets cold very easily while pigsy is mostly unaffected by the cold. pigsy tends to lend tang jackets or scarfs he wears whenever he notices Tang shivering(he always has to fight tang to get them back)

freenoodles where one of them cracks and has a breakdown curled up against the other, the other one of them listens solemnly to their partner's distress as they rub circles into their back

freenoodles where pigsy picks up Tang and just spins him around happily, tang is incapable of not dissolving into a laughing flustered mess everytime he does so

freegennodoodlessfnjmdmdm

[thenixkat]

Mundane AU!Laios thoughts

Note:

Probably contains spoilers

Mundane au= no magic and no fantasy 'races' (like... little people are a thing, they exist in reality, some people just have dwarfism. The elves are just skinny racist and xenophobic Europeans like? And there's already parralells made with the demi humans so if I do anything the orcs are Afro Native and Kobolds are somewhere African or Arab. And for the ogres... gigantism is a thing that exists in real like and totally a teen girl would just wear some horns.)

Thoughts:

The Toudens are European-born. From somewhere cold as hell, really isolated and conservative, that's close to some mountains, that's racist towards the local indigenous people.

(The sibs, but especially Laios got chewed out about some shit and has been trying to be better, slips up every now and then but takes criticism well so long as folks tell him what he did/said wrong).

Local weird kids put off vibes that the rest of the village didn't like, Laios and Falin grew up bullied and ostracized. Falin got sent off to schooling in the big city and later to a university in Italy where she met Marcille.

Laios dropped out of high school and joined the military as soon as he was able to b/c he wanted to get the hell out of dodge. Served for a few shitty years b4 just... deserting and backpacking across Europe just straight up homeless and working whatever odd jobs he could find. Man was going through it. Wound up in the same city where Falin was studying at a university in and decided to visit her. She took one look at him and refused to let him just go back to what he was doing, so Laios started couch surfing with her (very much against dorm rules but he looked terrible and Falin wasn't about to let anyone stop her from making sure her brother has a roof over his head and food).

Eventually, she takes him with her when she does a work-study in the USA for her ecology degree and they ended up staying/Falin kinda maybe sorta dropped out and got a job with a vet near where she was doing her work-study.

Laios and Falin are technically illegal immigrants but they're white so no one really questions their citizenship (their working on getting citizenship/papers)

Laios gets a GED. Does some self-study from Falin's textbooks and online stuff but that's about it for his schooling.

Laios definitely, like, lives in Falin's basement. Falin is the primary breadwinner in this household, Laios is aware of this and has learned to accept it even tho he would like to take care of his baby sister and sometimes feels bad about not being able to. They used to share a room in a cheap apartment but after building up enough savings they managed to buy a suspiciously cheap house in a rural town bordering a reservation and not far from a national park.

Laios still works odd jobs, mostly physical labor and stuff where they won't ask for a degree. Has worked retail, where his customer service was trash but he's darn good at just stocking and shelving shit.

Met Chilchuck while working retail, Chilchuck introduced him to the concept of a union which Laios thinks is really neat.

The town where the Touden's moved has a sizable population of people with dwarfism, Chilchuck is a notable member of the little person community in the area. The Touden's go to Chilchuck for help with paperwork (they pay him a small fee) and he doesn't ask too many questions about why they don't have this or that piece of documentation.

Laios enjoys doing citizen science and bird watching. During the tourist season, he runs a small wilderness guide giving campers and hikers tours in the local national park.

There's a hermit that lives in the national park illegally (Senshi) that Laios and Falin made friends with. They love his cooking.

Laios is active in the online furry community. He does commissions, mostly of digital and physical art or people's fursonas and vore stuff. He does great ferals, and decent anthros, but his human art is not good (he's working on it).

Laios is decidedly chubby in this, his weight goes up and down depending on the season and how much physical activity he's doing. But ever since he reunited with Falin, she's been making sure he doesn't skip meals if they can afford to eat. And ever since he met Senshi he's gotten heftier since he loves that man's cooking.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 14

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 13 🟣 Part 15

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Ongoing vampire shenanigans, mentions of blood, biting, angst.

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: I promised I'd fix this <3

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @teamfan7asy @mis-lil-red @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld

It was the first week of Christmas break, which meant you finally had the time to sit around and sulk all day over Mike’s absence. Not that you hadn’t been doing exactly that for the past three weeks. Now you just had the time for it. The first week had been bearable, but slowly, hope that Mike would come back had begun to fade in everyone and you just grouched around the house.

The good news was that – as far as the guys could tell – Mike had calmed down. But that had been the case for nearly two weeks now, and he wasn’t back yet. In the meantime, the mood in the apartment was dark and gloomy, and the guys were all glares, exhaustion, and dark circles under their eyes. It didn’t help that they refused to feed more than was strictly necessary to keep them alive – or whatever the fuck it was that this was supposed to resemble. They were cold and distant, avoiding you as much as possible – even when they heard you cry yourself to sleep at night. At some point, someone had taken it upon himself to put a blanket over the pile of gifts under the tree. You didn’t know who had done it, but it had been a very welcome change, as every glance at the heap of boxes had made you want to cry.

One morning, when all three of them were sitting in the living room, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Would at least one of you please feed,” you begged, surprising yourself with the desperate undertone in your voice.

“It hurts too much, darling,” Marshall groaned from the couch. “Right now, I can barely hear your thoughts, or anyone’s. I can barely feel him.”

A wave of anger so intense that your vision went blurry surged through you as you spoke: “Have you assholes considered what this feels like for me?” Their confused expressions told you that they hadn’t. “Seeing you guys like this hurts me in ways I can’t even explain,” you cried out. “I want you happy, and fed, and warm and… And close to me. You’re all sitting right there, and I miss you!”

Sherlock got to you first, wrapping his arms around you, then Marshall appeared by your other side. August hesitantly followed, standing in front of you with a somewhat lost expression on his face. Slowly, you raised a hand until your fingertips brushed his cheek.

“You too, August,” you sobbed, “I miss you too.” Standing there, with the three of them holding you, didn’t bring Mike back, but it sure as hell helped you feel less lonely than you had in the past few weeks.

August put his hand over yours, pressing them against his cheek. “I’ll feed,” he said, swallowing hard. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

You looked at him in disbelief, your eyes wide – as did the others. Not only was August not being… ‘a selfish prick’ would just about cover it, right? He was volunteering to suffer more than either Marhsall or Sherlock would if they fed. He’d have to feel your pain, the pain of his brothers – including Mike – all on top of his own, even though he hadn’t exactly admitted out loud that this situation took its toll on him.

“Are you sure?” It was so unlike August…

“I’m not offering again, princess.” Now that was like him.

Barely a second later, you were on the couch, in August’s arms. It’s clear he wasn’t going for your wrist that time, and you were fine with that, as long as you got to be close to him. And oh, boy you were close, alright? Flush against his body, your leg pulled over his hip, his hand on the back of your thigh, inches away from your ass… His other hand was on your back, crushing you to his chest just shy of too tightly and you could feel his breath in your neck.

“Keep it decent,” Marshall growled, “this is a shared living space.” Yes, you had to agree with him, but at the same time: Who gives a fuck? Teeth, neck, now – please! You were about to beg August for exactly that when he sank his teeth into you. All you could do was gasp and moan as the warmth washed over you.

You could tell he purposely dragged it out; drinking slowly to make sure you felt warm and cozy for as long as possible, and then when he finally stopped feeding, you could tell he tried his very best to mimic the feeling with his gift.

“It’s slightly different every time,” he murmured, “which makes it hard to replicate.”

“I knew it!” you muttered as you buried your face in his chest – uncharacteristic as it was for him, he let you. “It feels different to me, too. As if you own have your unique flavor of bliss.”

“Any favorites?” Of course he wanted to know… Leave it to August to turn this into a bit of a competition.

“Mikey’s,” you sighed. “Playful and… giddy, in a way. Very different from you three.”

“Why do we get lumped together?” Sherlock asked curiously. It was a polite and professional-sounding curiosity, as always.

“It feels more similar with you guys. Deep and soothing. Or, in August’s case, always a little deviant.” He didn’t seem to mind – in fact, he quite seemed to like your description. “But Marshall nearly puts me to sleep every single time. That’s a compliment, by the way.”

“I already knew that, no worries,” he chuckled as he sat down in front of the couch and leaned his head back until it rested against your back. “You know you can always stop by if you’re having trouble sleeping, right?”

Of course you knew. You knew Sherlock would always read you paragraphs from your textbooks in the teacher-voice that made you remember things. You knew August, despite his objections to being called a ‘walking pain killler’, would always get rid of your cramps and headaches for you. And even though you’d never taken him up on that offer he’d never made out loud before, you knew Marshall would always be willing to wrap you up in a warm hug and feed until you were asleep. Because they loved you.

The realization made you squirm in August’s arms, because it came with another, far less welcome realization: That their love was completely worthless without Mikey’s. That there was a gaping, bleeding wound in your heart, dead center, that could only be closed with ‘playful and giddy’, and stroking dark curls throughout the somehow amazing experience of soft lips wrapped around your nipple and sharp teeth piercing sensitive flesh. Dammit. Mike completed your little universe, that had a cure for everything, always a pair of arms to crawl into, and at the center of which you had quickly found who you were always meant to be: Theirs.

You nestled against August’s chest until you almost fell asleep – partially because of August, who was trying really hard to relax you. Somehow, despite just having finished feeding, he didn’t quite manage: You were antsy, as if you were waiting for someone. And then, before any of the others heard, saw, smelled, felt, or sensed anything, you shot up – nearly falling off the couch in the process, of course. “Mike!”

The others looked at you as if you’d gone insane.

“Darling, there’s absolutely nothing…” Sherlock started.

“He’s coming home,” you cut him off. August hadn’t been able to calm you down before, but now his efforts were completely wasted: nothing could tame the growing restlessness you felt build inside you.

“She’s right,” Marshall said after a while. He was still exhausted and starving, so Mike had to be close, otherwise there was no way Marshall could have heard him. The thought had barely crossed your mind, or you already heard the key turn in the lock – the next second, you were overwhelmed with both the urge to kiss the stupid face that appeared in front of you, and then punch it really, really hard right in the nose.

“Punching him is going to hurt you, princess, but I’ll gladly do the honors,” August snarled when he saw Mike.

Mike only had eyes for you – teary eyes with dark circles underneath them, but still. For a moment, he stood there, looking at you. Then he dropped to his knees – possibly because he couldn’t stand up straight anymore; he was so cold you could feel it without even touching him.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. Was it just you, or was that a little dramatic? “All of you, please, I… I’m so sorry!” Either he couldn’t fight back the tears anymore, or he just didn’t bother to try. You sat down on the floor next to him, putting an arm around his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Mikey, you’re home,” you said softly. “We can talk about this later, you need to eat.” He was in worse shape than the three others had been – combined.

“You still want me?” His voice was small, and it trembled. He looked at you with nothing other than abject terror in his eyes, not moving a muscle – even when you pulled him into your arms.

“Yes, of course!” You moaned when your lips touched his again for the first time in weeks. “I never want you to leave again, silly. I need you!” You were so busy kissing him that you didn’t even notice when his fang sliced your lip open. He did, however, and he stopped. Well… He stopped kissing you, sucking your lip into his mouth instead.

“Mike,” Sherlock interjected, “hardly an effective way of… Oh, never mind!” Everyone laughed at that – the same full, happy sound you’d heard so many times before. The same full, happy sound that had been absent from your life for far too long.

“It kind of hurts, though,” you pointed out after a while. Mike’s eyes had regained some life, you noticed when he looked directly at you again as he let go of your lip. There was something mischievous in them, too, and before you knew it, you were thrown onto your back and Mike went for your neck.

“I’m going to get dinner started,” August said, his voice the vocal equivalent of an eyeroll. Just the words brought you incredible joy: you hadn’t had dinner together – let alone August’s home cooking – in weeks.

“Mike, leave some for the rest of us,” Marshall teased. To your surprise, Mike sat up with you in his arms, lifting you into his lap. You were fairly sure that the gesture he made behind your back was an invitation to join him – a hunch that was confirmed when Marshall showed up behind you and you felt his head on the other side of your neck.

“Oh my god,” you whispered when the pain from Marshall’s bite subsided, and you were left with a blissful combination of ‘playful and giddy’ and ‘warm and relaxed’.

“Are you alright?” Marshall asked. His concern echoed through your mind.

“Yes,” you moaned, “never better.” Oh god, was there something overtly sexual about the sound you’d just made? There had to be, right? Not that the feeling itself was erotic in any kind of obvious way – although it wasn’t a stretch to turn it into something like that, as Mike had proven to you countless times now, but still.

Mike was everything you were used to from him, but Marshall… He was grabbier than usual, with his fingertips digging possessively into your hips. Both of them, however, were definitely pacing themselves.

“You’re not used to this,” Marshall explained. “Neither are we, by the way. We don’t want to hurt you.” That seemed fair. And it made the whole thing last longer, which meant more of your favorite warm, fuzzy feeling for you.

“The word carnage comes to mind,” August suddenly said. This time, you could see his face, and he did roll his eyes.

“Jealous?” you managed. The end of the word got slurred a little in the disappointed moan you let out when Marshall let go of your neck. Mike soon followed.

“Incredibly,” August responded sarcastically. “Dinner is ready.”

Dinner was fantastic – it always was, but Mike’s return, although it made everything feel infinitely more normal than it had before, had put a fairly large – and extremely hard to ignore – elephant in the room. In the end, it was Marshall who brought it up, by subtly punching Mike in the face.

“Yeah, I deserved that,” Mike laughed, looking up at all of you from the kitchen floor.

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s all there is to say about it,” Marshall said to your surprise, “don’t do that again. It hurt.”

“Whoa!” you yelled – strangely enough not about the punching. “We’re… This… I… That’s not all there is to say about it! If you want to be a bunch of men about this, fine, but I’m not going to pretend to be okay because you can just let this go! Get u-” Alright, he was already on his feet again, you hadn’t noticed…

“I’m sorry, Swee-“

“Don’t ‘Sweetcheeks’ me right now,” you cried out. “You almost destroyed everything, Mike. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. Sorry? Sorry?

“You had better be sorry!” you yelled. “You poked a hole in my heart by leaving like it was nothing, and you think you can just-“

“It was not nothing!” Mike countered, throwing his arms up in desperation. “Why do you think they refused to feed? So they wouldn’t have to feel how much it wasn’t nothing!”

“Spare me the fucking details, Mike! I already know what they went through, because I went through it with them!” You shoved him back as hard as you could, knowing full well the step he took was purely to humor you. That knowledge made you even angrier – although you were quite sure you would have gotten at least as angry if he’d just stayed put. “And you just ran! First you tell me you’re okay with whatever, and then something happens and you don’t even talk to me! You left me, Mike!” Somewhere during your speech, you had started crying, and it didn’t seem like you were going to stop that anytime soon. “You fucking left me! You’re a jerk, and an asshole, and a dick, and literally the worst!” Mike had tears in his eyes, now, too. “And I wish I’d never even met you, and don’t you ever leave me again! I mean it, don’t you fucking dare! You belong right here, Mike.” You put a hand on his cheek. “Right here with us.”

You fell into his arms, crying – and he held you, his head on your shoulder and his arms wrapped all the way around you, squeezing you tight. Right here, this… this was home.

“Do you really wish you’d never met me?” Mike muttered after a while, his voice riddled with guilt and drenched in uncried tears.

“No,” you whispered, “I love you. All of you.” He didn’t ask in what way you loved them, and you wouldn’t have been able to answer him if he had asked.

“What made you come back?” you asked after a while of standing there, holding each other close.

“I realized something,” Mike mumbled, kissing you in your neck before pulling away to look at you and the others. “Even if I only get you for a quarter of eternity… That’s still an eternity.”

[randomshyperson]

New Romantics - Chapter Two - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Trapped in a loveless relationship that has cost her friendships, Wanda watches her senior year of school turn upside down after a party. She will make new friends and may end up learning that not every relationship is doomed to failure.

Warnings: (+16), straight and toxic relationships, making out, underage drinking, language, co-dependency, conversations about insecurity and self-worth, attempted romantic comedy, unrequited love at first, friends to lovers. | Words: 4.507k

Skamverse Collection | Series Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

--//--

Chapter Two- Easter with Ink and Phones

Downtown, Tuesday 02:14 pm

A soft melody echoed throughout the room, but you weren't paying much attention to the lyrics. Your dominant hand was doing the work of painting the canvas, and slowly, the image of a faceless female figure was forming in the paint.

But your creative process was interrupted by the pause of the music - Making you realize that you were, in fact, paying attention to the melody.

"Hey!" Your protest was soft yet annoying. Natasha laughed, holding up the radio control. 

"Sorry, but they're calling you again." She says and you sigh tiredly. 

"I thought we blocked the number."

Natasha places the remote control on top of one of the countless bookshelves in her makeshift gallery. "Well, I had that geek neighbor of ours look at the phone, but whatever she did, it didn't work."

You chuckle, your eyes back on the screen. "America Chavez was definitely messing with you, sweetheart."

Natasha grimaces. "No, because she charged for the hour and I'm going to commit a crime if it was a prank."

Not wishing your friend to go to jail, you gave up painting. You started to take off your dirty apron and gloves, telling Natasha that you would take care of it. But before you could leave the studio, she called you. "It's easter, Y/N. Maybe, I don't know, you could give them a chance."

You chuckle. "Christmas is when we get more generous and tolerant, Natasha." That's what you say to her with a wink before leaving the scene.

It's not a surprise that America answers the door when you ring the bell - Both of their mothers are nurses, and usually, work on holidays like these. Her apartment is not empty anyhow. The kids from downstairs, Kamala Khan and Bruno Carrelli, are playing video games on the couch and sharing pizza from the night before.

"Hey, neighbor." America greets you excitedly. You laugh.

"Don't hey neighbor me, you little pest. Come on, you charged Natasha about the phone and now you're going to do the work." You nod toward your door, but America hesitates.

"Wait, I can explain-"

"Come on Chavez, don't try to wind me up." You interrupt with a grimace. "Do the job we paid for or I'll call your moms and tell them what you've been doing."

The girl snorts in defeat, and nods to her friends, saying she'll be right back as she leaves them playing.

You lead her straight to the kitchen and grab cans of soda while she goes to the phone. She picks it up and presses a few numbers.

"What are you up to?" You ask curiously, and she sighs.

"Your phone sucks, Y/N, it won't let me block any untraceable numbers. Are you running from secret agents by any chance?"

You chuckle, opening your soda. "I wish I had such an interesting life. You retort. "My parents are both psychiatrists and have private numbers so that patients don't save their personal contact information and try to call back."

America grimaces softly. "But what if the patient really needs to talk to them?"

You shrug sadly. "They don't care."

America doesn't insist, without knowing how far the intimacy for questions of good neighbors goes. She stays on her task for a while, before asking, "I can only block calls from all over the country. Are you sure you don't have any Brazilian friends you don't want to unintentionally ignore?

You deny it, taking a big sip of soda and watching America finish with the phone. When she releases the handset, you extend the other can of soda from the counter to her.

"The door is always open, kiddo. If your friends want a soda." You tell her, and you both know that this is an invitation for her not to spend the Easter holiday alone.

She smiles in thanks before leaving, and you go back to your studio, only to find your roommate snooping - or rather looking - at your paintings.

"Did you find something you like? It's all for sale." You joke, managing to get her to smile. You walk over to the radio, and Natasha tilts her head as she faces the painting you are starting.

"Who are you painting?"

You feel your cheeks warm, so you remain with your back to her with the excuse that you are choosing the music.

"A girl from school." 

Natasha makes a sound of interest. "Pretty?"

You laugh. "Smart."

"That's not what I asked."

"She's in my literature class, always reading. Quiet, but not shy. Sarcastic but never mean. And she has quick answers for almost everything. The first week she was the only one in the class who had read Madame Bovary, and the opinion piece was so impressive that the teacher praised her out loud in front of the class." You continue to ignore Natasha. "She has a strong Sokovian accent, so I guess she must have been born in the north since English is more like a second language in that part of the country. And yes, Natasha, she may be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Your friend smiled, pushing the locks of her hair behind her ears. "Did you notice that she was beautiful before or after you fell in love with her?"

You chuckle, walking over to your painting. "I'm not in love with anyone, don't be ridiculous. I don't even know her."

Natasha watches you intently. 

"So you notice all the girls in your literature class who are sarcastic but not mean, and paint them for hours?" She retorts and you can feel the tips of your ears warm.

"I've only been painting for a few minutes." You defend yourself, but Nat clears her throat, and when you look at her, she is pointing to several sketch boards thrown behind the main one. Most with faces and figures that look a lot like the larger one. You roll your eyes, sighing. "I know a lot of girls." You try, but it only makes Nat laugh.

"What's her name anyway?"

You draw with the pencil what would be the outline of a nose. "Wanda Django Maximoff."

"Full name and you swear you're not interested." She teases, and because your back is turned, you don't notice her reaching for her cell phone. Rolling your eyes again, you continue to draw and paint.

"She signs her full name on the door call. I think it's cute."

"I bet you do."

Deciding that you were no longer going to give Natasha material to torment you with, you focus on your painting. But the redhead only gives you ten minutes of peace before she calls you back. "Hm?"

"I found all her social media. Instagram, Facebook, and even Linkedin. She used to do tutoring can you believe it? You're right, she is very pretty."

You spun around the seat, curiosity in your gaze as Nat angled her cell phone so you could look too. But then you turned around, "No. I don't want to be a stalker."

Nat chuckled, shaking her head. "You know that's how people know each other in the 21st century, right?"

You roll your eyes, sliding your paintbrush across the canvas. "I'd rather talk to her for real than through a screen, Nat."

"Oh, and how's that going?" Nat teases, smiling at your displeased snort. But she puts her cell phone away the next moment, taking pity on your annoyance and adding more softly, "Maybe you should give it a chance. A little online chat just so you don't scare her off, and then you can go full Romeo Montecchio on her."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Thanks, but I think I'd come off as a complete disaster online and effectively scare her off before I had any real chance."

"So pessimistic." Nat muttered getting up. She walked over to the radio connected to your cell phone, probably to change the music. When she laughed for no reason, you took your eyes off the board to her. "The universe is in my favor, my friend. Wanda Maximoff just requested your friendship on Facebook."

You stumble on the bench as you get up in a jump to go to your cell phone. Nat is telling the truth, the notification is right there. Wanda and her stupidly beautiful face on a Facebook icon.

"Oh, okay, what do I do now?"

Nat giggled rolling her eyes. "You click yes." You make mention of picking up the cell phone, but Nat pulls it away with a grimace. "God, don't be ridiculous. You can't accept it now, she just sent it."

You frown in confusion. "What? Why not?"

"Y/N, for heaven's sake, you can't look desperate. Think about. It's easter, she can't think you're well… locked in a studio waiting for a notification. Nope, you have to look busy, and interesting. Wait at least a day to accept or even the end of the holiday."

Nat puts the phone in your hand, and you scratch your hair with the other, "But I want to be her friend now..."

The redhead giggles in disbelief, taking the phone back. "I'll take care of this, you can go back to the painting, Da Vinci."

"But-"

"See you at dinner." She escapes the studio before you can protest.

Downtown, Wednesday 08:25 am

You have accepted this request for friendship. You and Wanda Maximoff are now friends.

"You are so weird, Y/N, I swear." Yelena's voice made you bang your head with force on the ink shelf, definitely not because you were distracted by a stupid notification from hours ago.

"Jesus, don't you and your sister ever knock?" You retorted, mashing your head with one hand and with the other holding a pot of paint.

Yelena was holding a package of take-out Mexican food that she left on the small table - the smell made your stomach jump and reminded you that you were starving - before approaching the nearly finished painting in the center of your gallery.

"Why would I knock on my own apartment?" Yelena reasons teasingly, and you chuckle rolling your eyes. 

"Not that I agree, but why am I weird?"

She nods at the board with her chin. "You're painting Novi Grad's Wednesday Addams in the middle of Easter."

You chuckle. "Do you know Wanda?"

Yelena shrugs. "Not really, but she's well-known at school."

You hum with your hands busy separating the right shades of paint. "Really, why is that?"

"I don't pay attention to rumors, sorry." She retorts distractedly. "But that painting turned out beautiful. Did she commission it or what?"

You chuckle awkwardly. "No, I wanted to do it. My brain didn't seem to accept getting her out of my head until I paint it. It's the eyes and the wine's fault, I'm sure."

"Wine?"

You sigh. "I met her at your welcome party and helped her with her makeup. And I also had a few glasses of wine. I came home with the trace of her eyes stuck in my head, I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"Artists are so weird." Yelena mutters, and you chuckle.

"Tell me about it."

Yelena sighs, throwing herself into one of the armchairs. "Wanda seems to have gotten herself into a little bit of everything at this party." Yelena then comments. "I had a fight with Kate and I was a little... shaken up. Wanda found me in the bathroom, she was kind and helpful. Who knew."

You frown, looking at Yelena. "What do you mean shaken up? Is everything okay?"

Yelena sighs, forcing a smile. "It's just the usual, honey, don't worry about it."

You drop the ink on the table. "Yelena, you can talk to me."

The blonde hesitates, but then sighs. "I don't know, Kate's been weird since her new stepfather moved in. She was going to come out to Eleanor, but she keeps putting things off. We've been fighting so much, and maybe she's just lacking the courage to make a decision."

You wipe your hands on the washcloth from the canvas and approach your friend and roommate. "Yelena, I think you should talk to her." You say, and when the blonde makes mention of protesting, you hold up your finger. "Talk. Not accuse or demand. Ask her what's bothering her. By god, you two are so annoyingly in love all the time, what is this now? A sweet sixteen crisis bullshit?"

Yelena giggles, rolling her eyes. "I have no idea, Y/N, if I did I wouldn't be involving other people." She retorts. "Carol is sure Kate wants to break up."

You grimace. "Carol doesn't know anything, don't listen to her."

"Oh, am I supposed to listen to you then? Why? A degree in romantic comedies like The Notebook?"

"Honestly, you and your sister are the worst." You chuckle throwing her a dirty paint washcloth that makes her jump away. "Get out of my studio, I'm done giving you advice, you pest."

She flashes you her tongue, and you laugh, wishing your friend wouldn't give up on Kate Bishop before the younger girl gets up the courage to hand over the commitment ring you helped her choose.

It was only when Wanda's painting was ready that you left the studio to take a shower. You had already removed the top of your clothes when your cell phone vibrated.

'H'. This was the message on the Facebook chat coming from Wanda. You got online because you thought it was a bug in the application. But soon after she sent a larger one:

"Sorry. I meant to say Hi, but I just pressed the H."

You smiled to yourself. Wanda was so cute. You thought about Nat's advice about sounding interesting and taking your time to respond but you didn't want to leave her without an answer now that you were online. But you also felt weird about talking to her without clothes on, and you weren't going to put the pieces on the bathroom floor back on your body.

Finally, you sent an emoji of a thumbs up and headed for the shower, with no idea that the girl across the country was thinking you thought she was somehow stupid.

Novi Grad, Thursday 10:04 am

"Come on guys, I know the holiday makes everyone tired but just two more days and it will be the weekend again. Have a seat..."

You hastened your step at the request of Mrs. Frigga, the Literature teacher. She waved to the chatting people at the back to get down from the tables and sit down properly, and you balanced your notebooks on your left arm to take an empty chair. There was a little commotion with the boys, and somehow you ended up sitting, without realizing it, right next to the person who hadn't left your thoughts the entire holiday.

Wanda tried to disguise her tight grip on her book, watching out of the corner of her eye as you distractedly took the seat next to her and took the items out of your backpack, only to notice her the next second and offer her a gentle smile.

"Hi." You say, taking off your jacket next. "Or should I say, 'H'?" 

She giggled at your joke immediately, some of the nervousness flowing into her stomach like butterflies. She felt silly, being so anxious about someone she didn't know. Maybe it was your fault, for looking so lovely and pretty without the slightest effort.

Before she can think of how to continue the joke, Frigga is speaking again.

"I hope you all did the assignment I asked for." Remembers the woman, receiving a chorus of dissatisfaction, to which she only chuckles lightly. You curse low from your seat, and Wanda looks up at you immediately.

"I totally forgot we had homework." You mutter to Wanda's curious gaze. "You think I can guess the answer?" You joke with a funny grimace, making her chuckle again. Frigga looks at the two of you.

"Would you two like to start?" she asks aloud, and you swallow dryly. Wanda licks her lips, drawing the focus of the teacher and the room to herself as she asks:

"Of course, miss. What would be the question?"

Frigga smiled. "What do you think being a wallflower is?"

"The non-official definition is related to shyness, to being the socially awkward and reserved person. Which fits well with the personality of Charlie, the protagonist." Wanda replies. Frigga nods in agreement and looks at you.

"Anything to add, Miss L/N?"

You press your lips together, thoughtful for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I agree with Wanda but I feel the answer is slightly incomplete." You say, drawing the attention of the class to you. Clearing your throat, you continue. "I think it's more connected to a person's unique characteristics. Wallflowers are unique in their particularities, that's what makes them special. Even if Charlie wasn't shy, he would still be observant and very considerate."

Frigga rests her back on the table. "Better, Miss L/N, thank you." She says. "I like how you two complete each other answers, how about being partners in the report? And maybe for the semester, it might be good for you both."

You look at Wanda immediately, finding her already looking at you. The room is a bit of a mess with the announcement that the report could be done in pairs, but you have your full attention on the girl next to you.

"I think you're stuck with me, Maximoff." You joke, making you smile.

"What a tragedy." She retorts good-naturedly, managing a soft laugh before you two get to work.

It almost amazes you the way you work in perfect harmony with Wanda, but you are so distracted by her presence that you forget to think about it. She doesn't share any other classes with you, and when Literature ends, she seems just as hesitant to say goodbye as you are. 

"See you around, Maximoff." You speak then, trying to make things more casual, unaware of the internal battle the girl lives to build up the courage to ask you to lunch with her. Unfortunately, you have already left with the crowd of students when she thinks she could make it.

Downtown, Thursday 07:34 pm

"You ate my noodles again?" 

Natasha takes her attention away from the television, an apologetic expression that doesn't seem very genuine. You sigh impatiently, tossing the empty box you had taken from the cabinet into the trash before looking for your keys. She pauses the movie - receiving a protest from her sister - and kneels on the pillows to look at you. "Hey, sorry, Steve and Sam came over and there was nothing to eat..."

"And you obviously served my food." You retort sarcastically. Nat mutters that it was the only thing she had to eat, but she and her sister stand in a curious silence with the way you are struggling with your sneakers. 

"Are you okay in there?" Yelena asks from the armchair, and you snort loudly.

"I'm hungry." You grumble, getting a roll of the eyes. And then you sigh, one of your sneakers on. "And I don't know how to ask a girl out."

The sisters exchange excited glances. "Wow, that's interesting." Natasha comments. "It's Wanda, yes?"

Yelena looks ready to say something, but you get up in a bad mood. "Yes, she's very cute and I don't know how to say that without making an embarrassment of myself."

Natasha jumps up from the couch, excited. "Well, my friend, lucky I have a million tips. Yelena, we're going to buy food, don't watch the movie without me!"

The blonde rolls her eyes, pulling her cell phone out of her jeans, and Natasha tries to put on sandals before walking you out of the apartment.

On the other side of town, as Natasha makes you laugh by listing out the most foolproof movie seduction tips while you shop for noodles, a couple argues on a balcony. Wanda ends the night with tears on her cheek, just like you, but for different reasons.

Novi Grad, Friday, 02:05 pm

Wavy hair cascaded over a dark denim jacket. Wanda first adjusted her clothes, and then her headphones, taking them off to put in her backpack. She was alone again and looked a little bored. She searched through her backpack for something, and you sighed when you caught a glimpse of her hand full of rings giving the material a gentle squeeze-

"You're staring again, weirdo." Yelena teased, sitting in the chair next to yours. It was afternoon break, and you were sitting on one of the patio chairs. She had been on her cell phone, exchanging messages on the edge of passive-aggressive with Kate Bishop for about fifteen minutes, and in theory, you were reading. But since you noticed Wanda leaving through one of the hallways, your attention was solely on her.

"No, I'm not." You grumble, turning your gaze to the item in your lap and getting a short laugh from the blonde.

Yelena didn't take her eyes off her cell phone as she spoke, "Natasha and I invited her to something earlier today."

Trying not to show any latent interest, you raise an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Mm-hmm." She mutters. "The Graduation committee is already separating the sales teams, not that you're very interested in that." Yelena hints, but you don't mind. She sighs faintly. "She was sitting with two other boys from Nat's class, and they declined to participate. They're kind of preps if you want my opinion."

"And Wanda?"

Yelena didn't hide her little smile. "Is that interest in your voice?"

You rolled your eyes, your cheeks blushing lightly. "Come on, it's just curiosity." You retorted. "Not to mention you know damn well I'm interested."

Yelena giggles, shrugging. "It doesn't get any less funny to torment you for it." She says. "Wanda said she'd think about it. Maybe that will be a good incentive for you?"

It's your turn to laugh. "You know I don't care about these things, Lena. If I could make good money as you guys get from the fundraiser, I'd spend it on something much more meaningful than a party. I've been trying for months to get some money together to fix my truck."

Yelena sighs. "I still don't understand why you don't use that student money of yours."

You laugh. "That's because you don't listen to me! I've told you a million times that the scholarship only covers my housing and food!"

"So boring..." You laugh again, returning your attention to your book. Yelena keys a few things before adding, "When are you going to build up the courage to ask her out?"

"I'm working on it."

"Let me guess, waiting for the right moment?"

You shrug. "Maybe."

Yelena giggles, looking at you. "Sorry to break this to you and my super romantic sister but this is complete bullshit." Declares the blonde. "If someone likes you, any time is the right time. What do you think is going to happen, Wanda is going to magically guess that you are into her and hang around you until you build up the courage? Don't wait for that. Go to her, and ask her out. If it works, it worked. If not, it gives you even more time to move on."

You stare at her in shock for a couple of seconds. "I had forgotten how practical you are."

"Thank you."

"I didn't say it was a compliment." You retort good-naturedly, receiving a light kick to your leg. You laugh and look away. 

Wanda has taken a flyer out of her backpack and is putting it up on the school bulletin board. You smile and close the book. 

Yelena raises a curious eyebrow. "Well?"

"Wish me luck." You say, leaving the item beside her before going to approach the brunette.

The flyer was a reminder about the deadlines for the university's admissions letter submissions, and you guessed that one of the professors had asked Wanda to paste the notices. 

You reached next to her, one finger going to the title of the item she just pasted.

"H, as 'Have you sent your admissions letters yet?" You started with a little smile, turning your face to look at her. "Or, H, as, Have you got any plans for tonight?"

Wanda giggled shyly, a little surprised at the unexpected invitation. You, despite your heart leaping in your chest, kept your composure. She opened her mouth to reply, but you both were interrupted by Natasha's exit from the cafeteria, the door next to the board.

"Hello, you two." She had a suggestive little smile that made you bite the inside of your cheek. "Is Y/N repeating our invitation from earlier, Wanda? It would be a nice addition to have you two on our sales team."

You could dig a hole in the ground now, but for your friends. Wanda gives a nervous chuckle, looking between you and Nat before speaking. "I think so. The meeting will be in the auditorium, right? I didn't know you were on the committee..."

"I'm not-"

"She's what we call a ghost member." Natasha cuts in giving you a gentle nudge. "She lives with me and Yelena did you know? So she's been helping with activities since she got here, even though she's not officially part of the club."

"Oh, got it." Wanda mutters, twiddling her fingers as she tries not to exchange such obvious glances at you.

"Can I expect you at the meeting today then?" Natasha insists smiling.

You give Wanda a small smile, and her face lights up. She nods. "Sure, I'll be there."

"Great, I'll see you later." Natasha says, pulling you by the arm.

When you are far enough away, you turn to her with a grimace. "Why did you do that? I had just-"

"I think she has a boyfriend." Natasha declares and it's like a complete bucket of cold water.

"W-what?"

"God, you're completely clueless." Nat scratches her forehead. "I'm not sure, but I think it's the boy we saw with her earlier. We're not from the same group of friends, and I don't give a damn what people do in this place but I think so. There is some rumor of a fight she got into as well but no one really remembers either. Parker is a terrible informant. And I need a bigger team, and this is the perfect opportunity for you to find out if she's taken and in the meantime help me with graduation."

"I hate you." You grumble sullenly.

Nat laughs, grabbing your face to kiss your cheeks and wipe the grimace off your face. 

When you join Yelena, she looks up at you. "Did you make it?"

"No, your sister ruined everything."

"That is an unfair statement, I am getting more information for an efficient approach." Explains the redhead, and you have to laugh. "You don't appreciate the work of a spy."

You and Yelena burst out laughing.

[eskawrites]

23 👀? (if ur feeling up to it ofc 💖)

23. "Just a little longer."

(oh i was hoping i could do a lil cfdau for one of these)

-

January 1998

Robin's house is cold.

It's a nice place. It really is. It has the coziness of her place with Steve, with Robin's favorite blankets and too many couch pillows and the lamps always on instead of the overhead lights. There are touches of her here that didn't shine through as much in her old apartment. More photos on the walls, more vinyls piled on the shelves, way more candles. A stack of comics that Steve has certainly teased her about--obscure titles that Nancy suspects are Will's influence, given how close he and Robin have gotten lately.

It's nice. It's so Robin, so of course it is. But it's also cold.

It doesn't help that the winter has been bitter so far. They've gotten more ice than snow. The wind has been brutal, the sky pale and sunless. Every day since Christmas has been in the single digits.

They go out anyway, holding hands while they wait for coffee or meet for dinner. Paparazzi photos keep showing up of the two of them, and though no one ever dares to say something for certain--girlfriend seems to be a dirty word to the press--everybody loves to speculate.

It's not just the press, though. Nancy had a meeting scheduled over dinner just last night. It had been a big deal, with big names she'd been looking forward to potentially working with. An assistant had called her last minute to cancel. There's no way to know for sure why, but one look at Robin when Nancy had told her confirmed that they were thinking the same thing.

Robin had offered to take her out, to take care for her, to do anything she could to cheer Nancy up. They'd ended up curling up in Robin's bed, huddled beneath the heavy comforter, Robin's arms strong and warm around her.

They're there still, because even though the morning is half gone, the house is so damn cold, and the world beyond it is even colder. Nancy burrows further into Robin's embrace, pressing her cold nose against Robin's warm collarbone, and pretends like she can weather the winter if she just stays here forever.

"I'll make us breakfast," Robin offers, though she makes no move to dislodge Nancy and get up. Nancy makes a soft sound, something pathetically akin to a whimper, and digs her fingers into Robin's sleep shirt to keep her in place.

Robin's sigh is soft, understanding, but she tries again. "And coffee. Warm coffee, Nance."

Robin knows exactly how she takes her coffee, makes it so perfectly that Nancy will sometimes drag her feet in the mornings just so Robin will make it for her. Robin sees through her, of course, but she always presses the mug into Nancy's hands with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, so Nancy supposes she doesn't mind.

It's almost tempting, but it's not enough to make her want to move. So she doesn't. She lies there, eyes closed, not even trying to summon the energy to shake away the hollowness that has been in her chest since last night.

Robin rubs her hand up and down Nancy's back. "I'm sorry, Nance. I really am."

That makes her stir. She lifts her head to press against Robin's neck instead.

"Not your fault," she says, quiet but firm. She presses her lips against Robin's skin, just as soft, just as certain. Robin sighs again.

"It still sucks, though."

Nancy hums in response. Hence the moping in bed.

"But we both have the day off," Robin continues. "We can do whatever we want."

"Don't want to," she mumbles. She's distantly aware that she's pouting now, but she can't bring herself to care. Not when Robin is all she wants, and Robin is all she has, and Robin is the only person who really, truly understands.

"Nance..."

"Can we just--can we stay here?" Nancy pulls back to look up at her pleadingly--desperate, suddenly, to cling to this moment beneath the covers, this one chance to shut out the chill of the world. "Just a little longer?"

She's never had to ask, though. Not really. Robin's eyes are soft when she nods. She pulls gently on Nancy, and Nancy rises enough to kiss her softly, slowly, with all the warm, steadying assurance she's still getting used to having.

"We can stay as long as you like," Robin whispers when they part. Nancy hums again and settles back against her. Her fingers come up to comb lazily through Robin's hair.

"Will you still make breakfast when we get up?"

Robin smiles. "I'm sure I can be convinced."