#she really said what can we get you but my tastes are so cheap and specific i will spend money on sparkly jewelry but the type *i* want

[ayyponine]

not my boss being like hhaha so yr birthdays coming up......and we are all panicking low key at a loss fr what to get u. haha. like. what do you want. and i am str8 blanking over here like. certainly i know the answer not madam for never have i coveted a thing in life i am in no need for material goods and am perfectly content as i am this here living being on earth....

[queensunshinee]

Wreck my plans || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+) Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex, fingering), drinking, family drama, very slow burn, maybe too slow, I really don't know what's going on here

Word Count: 8.5k

Wreck my plans

Parties were never your thing. Parties are Jenny's thing. But she went away for the weekend with two friends from Harvard and didn’t even think to invite you. So Jenny can go to hell. And you can go to the party.

Luke Thompson's house is huge, and it doesn’t surprise you since you've spent two evenings a week here over the past few months trying to teach him algebra and literature. He had to repeat senior year after his complete failure last year. The party was in celebration of him finally getting his diploma and being accepted to a local college nearby.

"Little (Y/L/N)!" he shouted, spreading his arms wide, inviting you for a hug. "The only reason I managed to finish school," he added, yelling, making you roll your eyes. "You’re the only reason you managed to finish school, Luke," you said, taking a step back. "To be honest, I didn’t think you’d come," he looked around, causing you to do the same and start recognizing familiar faces from your grade and the one above you (Jenny’s). "I've never seen you at a party before." "I've been to parties. we just don’t hang out with the same people," you said as the two of you moved towards the kitchen so you could grab a drink.

The conversation continued for a few more minutes, but your attention drifted to the blond guy in the kitchen- Art Donaldson. Dressed in a pink button-down shirt and jeans, holding a red cup just like the one Luke put in your hand, drinking the same warm beer you're drinking. You hadn’t thought about him for almost a year. Your gaze wandered from him to the living room, where you saw Dave flirting with someone you couldn’t identify, and you found yourself rolling your eyes at the scene. You tried to listen to Luke for a few more moments because it felt like the polite thing to do, but you lost interest, and, like a magnet, your eyes were drawn back to Art Donaldson, who was busy looking you over from head to toe. You wonder if it made you blush or if it's just the cheap alcohol. You left the kitchen with a certain sense of saturation, looking for people you actually enjoyed being around more than Luke, who, as nice as he was, was too sociable for your taste. Tried too hard. You also try hard, mostly to stay out of everyone’s way.

You ended the evening with Chloe and Ron- ironically, friends of Jenny's, since Lia refused to come. They asked about Jenny and told you about their college experiences. Ron finished his first year at Yale, and Chloe went to a local college not far from here. Maybe it’s time to go home, as you feel like you’re suffocating and the place is closing in on you. The thought of staying close, like Chloe, to this suburb made your stomach turn. Chloe loved it, though. She didn’t see anything wrong with it. She planned her life right here. Just like this.

"Can I sit?" A familiar voice stood above you as you stared at Luke’s pool. A few people were in the far corner of it, but otherwise, the yard was empty. You shrugged without saying anything as Art sat down. He took off his shoes and folded up his jeans a bit, dipping his feet into the pool- something you hadn’t even thought to do. You looked at him for a moment as he took another sip from the drink in his hand. He’s probably the most handsome guy you know- a childish thought that’s crossed your mind since you were young, since you remember him. Blond with eyes that could make stars feel embarrassed with how they shine. There’s nothing ordinary about him. He’s exceptional. You don’t think there’s any girl your age who’s known him and hasn’t had a crush on him, at least for a moment.

"Congratulations on finishing school. I heard you’re the reason Luke can celebrate," he said casually, looking at you and causing you to turn your gaze back to the pool in a split second. "He really needs to stop telling people that," you replied, hearing him chuckle. "How was your first year in college? Stanford, right?" you asked, trying to shift the focus from yourself to him. "Yeah, tennis, you know. It’s nice. I’m supposed to choose a major next semester. My mom wants me to pick business management. I’m considering sports management," he said offhandedly, as if it weren’t too personal. As if this wasn’t the longest conversation you’d had since kindergarten. "Then you have to choose sports, of course," you said quickly. "Sorry, it’s none of my business," you added just as fast, realizing you’d stepped into his complicated relationship with his mom. "If only it were that easy, huh?" he chuckled. "To choose what I want," he added.

At that moment, Art Donaldson had no idea that what he was saying touched the deepest parts of your heart, nearly crushing it. Stroking an open wound without knowing the area was sensitive. Jenny decided at the last moment that she didn’t want to study at Yale and preferred Harvard, which meant financially you couldn’t study out of state. It would just be too much. And it surprised no one that you were the one who had to give up your dream. It surprised no one, because Jenny was the first to decide, and you received the scraps of something that might have been hers. Like wearing an old shirt, she no longer wanted. It’s never the other way around.

"Aren’t you planning to go pro?" you asked after a few seconds, trying to shake off the emotions flooding you. "I’m not sure yet, my mom really wants me to finish my degree," he explained, taking another sip. "Patrick’s really suffering on his tour. don’t tell him I told you that." He added information you hadn’t asked for. As if you were in daily contact with Patrick Zweig. As if you’d ever exchanged a word with him. You only know Jenny slept with him a few times, but it’s not something you two talk about, so whatever. "I’m going to Wesleyan," you said suddenly and looked at him; his gaze was already on you. "Damn," he smiled a half-smile, and maybe it was the first time you’d felt a certain pride since you applied there. "Jenny went to Harvard, so it’s complicated for both of us to study out of state, you know how it is," you felt the need to explain the situation, even though he hadn’t asked, and he certainly didn’t know how it is. "It’s a good school tho, I’m glad I got in," you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince, but he furrowed his brows as if he didn’t believe it, as if he had something to say about it. But he kept it to himself, and you appreciated that.

"I have to say, distancing myself from Jenny (Y/L/N) was one of the best things that’s happened to me since I left," everyone knew about Art and Jenny's relationship. They couldn’t stand each other. They competed in every possible subject. From student council to tennis. You don’t think Jenny even likes tennis. She just likes the first place. And without realizing it, you laughed, which a good sister shouldn’t do, but you felt it too. Distancing yourself from Jenny was a relief. The difference is that you’re not allowed to say that out loud, and Art Donaldson doesn’t really care. He doesn’t need to be at family dinners during holidays.

You looked at him for another second and thought this could be a good moment to kiss him. It was as if he hadn’t taken his eyes off you for a second since he sat down. You could lean in a little and press your lips to his. It’s not like you’d see him much again. You wouldn’t see him at all and in six weeks, you will move into the dorms in college. and in few years, maybe after school, he’d probably be a professional tennis player or a lawyer or the president. You think you can picture him as the president. You'd vote for him. "Well, it was nice seeing you, (Y/N)," he smiled another one of his captivating smiles. "Talk to me if you ever find yourself in California," he gave a small nod, grabbed his shoes, and walked away. Maybe one day you’ll manage to actually do something you really want to do. . . . You regretted what you did about three minutes after you politely turned down the full scholarship to Wesleyan. and accepted what they offered you at Stanford. But in your defense, it was late at night, you’d just come back from Luke’s party very tipsy, and you had no real intention of talking to Art when you got to California. You’d never seen your parents so angry. Your mom cried. Your dad said you were inconsiderate. Jenny sat on the couch, watching you with a raised eyebrow. They said they wouldn’t pay for anything, that if you made this decision, you’d have to deal with the consequences. The scholarship covered your tuition, but for housing and books, you’d have to use your savings. Two jobs you picked up over the summer and a part-time job you’d had for three years of babysitting. They didn’t speak to you for weeks. From the moment you told them, all communication between you went through Jenny.

"Tell her dinner’s ready," "Tell her to go down and buy eggs," "Tell her Uncle Barry’s coming over tonight, to act like she still cares about this family."

"They'll come around," Jenny mumbled when she climbed into your bed one of those warm August nights. "I don’t know," you answered with your eyes closed, exhausted from the day at work and the hostility you returned to at home. "I know," she concluded. In the morning, you woke up alone.

You think they’ll never forgive you. Maybe you’ll never forgive them. But you don’t know. . . . The empty bed in your dorm was beneath the window. You didn’t complain for a moment because everything could have been much worse. Jenny bought you the flight ticket to California for your birthday. You cried. You remembered that small moment when Art said he was glad to be away from her and you giggled, not defending your sister. She’s not to blame for being born first. She’s not to blame for needing more attention. Her intentions are good. That should be the only thing that matters.

You only met Billie in the evening when she came back from what she described as a date. She spoke about 50 words a minute, so it was hard to follow. She asked why you came a week late, you wanted to say that you were on time and she came early, but all you managed to get out was "work." It wasn’t a lie. You worked at a camp and an ice cream parlor all summer, trying to save as much as you could because you didn’t know how long it would take to find a job near the university. Turns out, very quickly. The diner across from the university was looking for waiters, and you showed up without experience but with a convincing smile and some recommendations from previous employers, as if anyone cared that you were great with kids. Three shifts a week, and the savings would help you keep your head above water. That’s all you need.

A week after you arrived at the dorms, Billie and Summer, your roommates, forced you to go with them to a party. And it wasn’t too hard to convince you because you weren’t at home. And sometimes, you need to remind yourself that you at home isn’t the same you who’s at Stanford. Here, no one knows you or Jenny. No one expects anything from you, no one will call you "Little (Y/L/N)." Here, you are whoever you choose to be. And that’s enough. Enough to wear almost burgundy lipstick and a tight dress, but still sneakers. After all, something of you stays the same.

Someone named Dean hit on you most of the night, and Billie told him you had a boyfriend. "Babe, anyone but Dean. I’ve been here two weeks, and he’s slept with the entire building already," she whispered in your ear, and you laughed. Someone else hit on you during the night, but you didn’t remember his name. When you lay in bed, you tried calling Jenny to tell her about your night, but she didn’t answer. And maybe that’s okay. . . . The first time you saw Art at Stanford, he was the one who actually saw you. "(Y/n)?" He lifted his sunglasses to his hair. He wore a Stanford T-shirt and pants that made you wonder if they were also Stanford coded. He had a racket bag over his shoulder. He looked confused. "Hey," you didn’t know what to say as you leaned against the only free tree you could find and tried to read one of the books from your syllabus, preparing for your first class. "Hey?" He almost chuckled as he sat down next to you, not taking his eyes off you. Like you’d disappear the second he blinked. He didn’t seem disappointed by your presence. "Shit, I was joking about California," he looked amused, still studying you. He took the book you were reading, like it was his, ran a hand over the cover. Like he knew everything he needed to know about the course just by looking at it. "Stanford was on my list, and it just felt more right," you tried to justify, to explain that it wasn’t because of him. He didn’t think it was because of him tho, not really. "How did they take it?" he asked, probably remembering details from your conversation at the party. "I don’t know, because they’re not talking to me," you said it in the same casual tone, like it didn’t bother you. "Damn," he muttered, "that bad?" he asked. "It’s whatever," you shrugged. "I’ve got to get to class, but I’ll see you around, yeah?" He stood up and walked away. You didn’t know if you’d actually see him around again, but the interaction had been nice. You think that maybe Art Donaldson won’t judge you. And that’s an interesting thought. . . . The next time you see him, you're in the middle of a shift, wearing a ridiculous apron and a ponytail that makes your hair look greasy. Needless to say, you’re embarrassed, but he doesn’t act like it’s a big deal. He says hello, which is surprising because he’s with friends, and you look, well…ridiculous. You say hello back, because you’re polite, and it’s the right thing to do. They sit down at one of the tables, and you hear his voice from a distance saying, “I know her from back home.” You think it’s a half-accurate description, because you don’t really know each other- not like he knows Patrick Zweig or Luke. Not like he knows Jenny. You also think the girl sitting next to him is very pretty. Pretty enough to hate her, but nice enough not to.

Casually, before they leave the diner, Art asks if you're going to a party someone in his dorm is throwing. You shrug in response because you hadn’t heard about it until now. “It’ll be fun, you should come,” he calls out, mentioning the building he lives in before he leaves with his friends. He didn’t have to invite you. He doesn’t have to invite you to places. You’re not his responsibility. You don’t want him to think you are. You don’t know if you’ll go. . . . When you received the email from the registrar notifying you that your account had already been paid and that there was no need for the duplicate payment you’d tried to make, you found yourself confused. When you realized your parents had paid the bill despite saying they wouldn’t, you ended up crying for two hours. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. They haven’t spoken to you in almost three months. They let you stew in guilt but are willing to pay your bills? It’s ridiculous. None of them answered when you tried to call to say thank you. You cried for another hour. 'Busy. Do you need anything?' -Jenny-

You think you need a hug. But that feels childish, so you send her an orange heart emoji. . . . You go to the party Art invited you to with Billie and Summer because, why not? You don’t mention that you got an invitation, just casually say you heard there’s a party and that it might be fun to check it out.

You decide to put on the dark lipstick again, you liked how it looked last time, and honestly, the feedback was great. This time, you stick with a thin shirt, ripped tights, and shorts- keeping it low-effort was part of the actual effort. You think it’s silly. But you look cute, so fuck it.

Art spots you before you notice him again. He comes up to you in the middle of a conversation, gently swiping the beer bottle from your hand, making you look at him as he takes a sip and hands it back. “You’re the hot guy from the posters,” Billie says shamelessly, looking straight at him. “Art,” he chuckles, introducing himself, making you roll your eyes. “Mind if I steal her for a bit?” He asks permission, which is ridiculous and funny, making you feel embarrassed as he hands you back the beer and leads you to another corner of the apartment by your other hand.

“Hey,” he says, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “Hey,” you reply with staged nonchalance. “You look good,” you add, because it’s true. The few times you’d seen him on campus, he was in Stanford sports gear. Seeing him again in a button-down and jeans felt like a privilege. “That’s what I’ve heard,” he responds, referencing Billie’s comment from a few minutes ago, taking the beer from you again. Maybe it’s over the top, sharing the same bottle. It’s relatively intimate for two people who don’t actually know each other.

One of his friends comes over and starts talking to Art about tennis, his gaze lingering on you. You wonder if Art realizes he’s standing closer to you in a slightly possessive way. That his hand is lightly brushing yours, that he keeps taking the bottle from you to drink from it, openly displaying that sense of intimacy.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You’re not sure where the courage to ask came from. Maybe it’s the tequila shots you took with Billie and Summer before heading out to the party. Maybe it’s the joint you passed between each other. But Art looks amused as he nods. You catch Summer out of the corner of your eye, giving you a thumbs-up and making exaggerated kissy faces. If Art saw her doing it, he didn’t say anything. The contrast between the noise in the building and the quiet outside surprises you. The silence between you wasn’t awkward, but you hoped he’d say something by now. He seemed to be enjoying himself too much to talk. “Want to head to the lake?” he suddenly asked, though you were already walking that way. You hadn’t actually been there yet, but you didn’t want to reveal that you didn’t know the area that well.

“Hey, give me your phone,” you said, stopping in your tracks. He stopped too, raising an eyebrow as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “So bossy,” he muttered with his signature smirk, but you entered your number and sent yourself a flower emoji so you could save his number later. When you reached the lake, it almost took your breath away. It looked like something out of a movie. You know it sounds like a cliché, but it really was like that- like an old movie, but not too old. The moon reflected off the lake, and a few people were sitting on the grass nearby. You sat on a table instead of the bench next to it. Art raised an eyebrow at the choice but shook his head like you’d done something funny.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, looking at you as if confessing a secret. “I’m glad I’m here, too.” You knew that’s not what he wanted to hear, but he laughed anyway. He sat on the bench below you, between your legs. You felt as if you had some kind of power. Your hand automatically moved through his curls. You thought about apologizing but decided not to. “How are you?” he asked. “I’m okay, I think. How are you?” you tossed the question back at him. “Seriously, how are you?” His fingers brushed over yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “With your parents and everything?” he added. “I’m fine,” you replied. You didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t push as much as you expected. His hand squeezed yours for a moment, as if he had more to say. Instead, he nodded and stood up, starting to walk with you just behind him.

You're walking alongside the lake, wondering if this path has an end, or if you even want it to. You think you might feel those butterflies in your stomach. "Do you know my first memory of you?" he asks suddenly, and you’re surprised. Part of you doesn’t want to know. It’s probably related to Jenny. Art has so many memories of Jenny, and they’re all negative. Deep down, you hope he doesn't remember you as this girl being attached at her hip. "The day after my dad's funeral, you gave me a daisy you picked from someone’s garden." He chuckles, but it sounds bitter. You don’t remember this. You do remember, though, that for years, until you both drifted and each found your own group of friends—he called you "Daisy." You never knew why. "Oh." You don’t know what to say, so that’s what comes out a bit pathetic. "I didn��t even know it was a daisy, if the story details matter," you try to lighten things up. "I asked my grandmother," he says, and the two of you chuckle. "That’s why you called me Daisy for three years straight?" you ask. "God. Why do you remember that?" He puts a hand over his face, as if he’s embarrassed or something. "I thought maybe you didn’t know my name, and since I was Jenny’s sister, you just rolled with it." You laugh. "It suited you, Daisy," he says, and his hand moves your hair behind your ear. This isn’t the first time he’s done that, but this time he also looks at your lips. You feel like he’s looking at your soul if that's even possible.

"I really wanted to kiss you at Luke's party," you admit, because it feels like the right moment. "Oh yeah? So why didn’t you kiss me?" he asks, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. "I’ve wanted to do it since eighth grade, and then I had the chance and didn't know what to do" You look at him. His smile is still plastered across his face, and you wish he wasn’t so smug all the time. "Maybe I wanted you to kiss me at Luke's party," he says, almost ignoring what you just said. "Little Daisy, sitting by the pool alone. Maybe I approached you with intent? Maybe I was goi-" You don’t give him the satisfaction of finishing his sentence, as you crash your lips onto his like you’re possessed. His smile lingers for a few moments. His hands pull you closer to him as he presses you back against a light pole you didn’t know was behind you.

Art Donaldson is a good kisser. No one can take that from him. He’s an amazing kisser. His tongue is way too skilled. His hands have found their way under your shirt as if that’s their natural place. His lips move perfectly in sync with yours, and when you both pause to catch your breath, he presses his forehead against yours. He places small kisses on your cheek, then on your neck, and only when you lean your head back and bump into the pole do you remember that you’re in a public space. People could see you. This is not your style. "Okay, we’re good," you tap his chest lightly, making him laugh the most delightful laugh you’ve ever heard. "Is this everything you dreamed of before starting high school?" he asks, planting another small kiss on your cheek, as if he just can’t help himself or something. "I didn’t dream about kisses like this, Donaldson." You roll your eyes, thinking it’s pretty ridiculous that you’re smiling right now.

When you reach your dorm, you wonder if you should invite him in. You think he’d say yes. But you also think there’s something beautiful about leaving the night as it is- two people who used to know each other, kissing by a lake. He gives you a small kiss and takes out his phone as he turns to leave, while you head inside, unable to resist leaning against the door.

'Since eighth grade, huh?' -Unknown Number-

'Shut up.' -(Y/N)-

He replies with a flower emoji. You think the intention is daisy. Maybe you’re overthinking it. . . . You don’t expect Art to text you the next morning. You had that night together; it was great, and maybe it was exactly what you needed to get him out of your system. Maybe it was what you needed to finally move on from that endless crush on Art Donaldson. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed when he didn’t reach out at all, as if he’d disappeared from the face of the earth. But that’s probably fine. He doesn’t owe you anything, and you don’t owe him. You each have your own lives at Stanford. You’re trying to juggle work and studies. You’re supposed to submit a thirty-page paper after Thanksgiving, and you’ve only written three. Clearly, you have enough to keep you busy.

Your mom called a few days ago, and you cried. Because you hadn’t really talked in almost four months. She said Jenny convinced her. It’s kind of messed up, but you don’t say that. You’re just glad someone convinced her. You’ve been thinking a lot lately about how strange it is- how you never behaved outside of what was expected of you, and the one time you did, they reacted as if you’d committed a crime. You think about it even when you’re trying not to think about it. Your mom asked if you’re coming home for Thanksgiving. You said no. You wonder if it made her sad only after you hung up. . . . The next time you see Art, he’s flirting with a redhead at a Thanksgiving party Summer convinced you to attend. Honestly, you could’ve skipped this party, but Summer said she wanted the girl who invited her there. So you bit your tongue and told her you’d meet her there, because that’s what friends do.

It’s easy to tell when Art is flirting; it’s basically exaggerated hand gestures and a level of closeness he’s never tried with you. You’ve seen him in action before. You try not to stare, because it doesn’t really matter. Instead, you look for Summer, who’s on the opposite side of the room, directly in Art’s line of sight. It makes you smile, knowing he’ll see that you’re here. You’ve decided you’re going to ignore him. You made that decision when you passed by him on your way to Summer, feeling his eyes on you but not meeting his gaze.

When Summer slips away to sit with Caitlin -the girl she’s interested in- a guy you don’t recognize approaches you. He introduces himself and offers you a drink. You politely decline, you’re smarter than to accept punch from a complete stranger. He’s nice, but standing a little too close for your comfort. He leans over you, and you feel a bit trapped between him and the wall you’re leaning against. You could walk away, of course, but the whole situation feels uncomfortable. You wonder where Summer is, unable to see her in the crowd.

"Don’t you think you’re a bit too close?" Art’s voice is firm and unyielding as he positions himself next to you, raising an eyebrow at the guy. "Sorry, man, thought she was single," he says, disappearing like he was never there. Neither of you bother to correct him about the two of you not actually being together. You roll your eyes at Art and head toward the kitchen, feeling his steps following behind. You spot Summer with Caitlin on one of the couches, and she gives you a nod, signaling that she’s fine and that you’re free to leave if you want. "Hey, you didn’t go home," he says behind you, as if everything is normal. "Quite the observation, Donaldson," you say, knowing you’re being mean. But, fuck it, he deserves it. You grab a beer from the kitchen and head outside, with him trailing beside you. "You’re mad at me because I didn’t text you," he sighs, prompting you to stop and raise an eyebrow at him. "You really think you’re something special, huh?" Maybe a bit too harsh, but it’s all you’ve got right now. "I don’t think I’m anything special. I just didn’t know what to say." He sighs again as you start walking away from the building. "It was a good night. I didn’t want to ruin it, you know?" You think he sounds almost shy. His voice is softer than usual, and you remind yourself that you also labeled that night as a good one, as a nice experience you didn’t want to spoil. So maybe it’s unfair to be angry- after all, you could have reached out to him, too. But what would you have even said? The three weeks since then passed quickly, and most of the time, you didn’t think about him at all. So it’s fine. Everything’s really fine.

"It’s ok, Donaldson, I wasn’t sitting by the phone waiting for a message from you. You can let it go," you sum up, trying to sound amused and light-hearted, though it comes out a bit too bitter for your liking. "So why didn’t you go home?" he asks, changing the subject. "I’m working." You shrug. He raises an eyebrow, like someone who knows that’s not the whole truth but also understands he’s treading on thin ice right now and shouldn’t push for more. "Why didn’t you go?" you throw the question back at him, trying to show him that it’s all good. "I’ve got a match tomorrow, plus my mom doesn’t really care," he replies, and you nod, understanding a bit of what he means. You knew his mom- she always struck you as the coldest person in the world. "What are you doing at a party if you have a match tomorrow?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, wondering if it’s too harsh, because you’re trying to steer the conversation onto calmer ground. "It’s in the afternoon," he shrugs. "You don’t have to walk with me, my dorms are really close," you say after a few moments of silence. "We’re good? We're friends and you’re not mad at me anymore, right, Daisy?" he asks, nudging his shoulder against yours. You roll your eyes at the silly nickname, but you don’t find it in yourself to correct him.

"We’re good," you conclude, walking into your building, leaving him behind. . . . The next day, you decide to go to his game after your shift, only to find out that Patrick fucking Zweig is also sitting in the small crowd. Most of the students eager to see Stanford’s star in action probably love their families more and decided to go home. You sat far from Patrick, but it didn’t stop him from giving you a puzzled look as he whispered something to the girl sitting next to him, who was fully focused on Art's game. You remembered her from the diner the other day. She’s beautiful.

Art won to the applause of the crowd that stayed to watch until the end. Two hours of the ball going back and forth and sounds that were almost erotic. Whatever. You consider heading back to your dorm without saying anything just to avoid talking to Patrick. But Art smiles at you and gives a small wave, so you know there's no way to get out of at least saying hello. You need to suck it up. “Congratulations, Donaldson,” you mumble, and he gives you the smuggest smile he can find. “Little (Y/L/N), long time,” Patrick says to you with half-loudness. He doesn’t say anything bad, but you shrink a little. Trying to remember the last time someone called you that. Probably at Luke's party. Art looks at you with an apologetic look as if he knows. He probably doesn’t know. But that's okay. “How’s the tour?” you ask politely because it’s the right thing to do. “Good, good,” he says, shifting his gaze from you to Art and back to you. Like a man with a plan. “Want to have dinner with us?” he asks. In any other situation, you’d laugh, because the odds of you sitting at the same table with Patrick Zweig would be slim, especially considering his history with Jenny. “I wish, but I have a paper due in a few days, and I really have to work on it. Maybe next time,” you smile the most genuine smile you can find and quickly move away.

“Dude, you didn’t tell me Little (Y/L/N) was here,” you hear Patrick laugh. “Shut up, Patrick,” you’re almost sure you heard Art reply.

'You wish?' -Art Donaldson- He sent it half an hour later when you were already sitting at your computer with a cup of coffee in hand.

You turned off your phone. You need to focus. . . . Art came to your work far more often than you expected. He probably tried every dish on the menu, including the pancakes with the “secret” sauce that you suspect is just chocolate mixed with overly sticky jam. He sometimes studied there or came with his friends. He talked to you but not too much, and you texted each other from time to time. Were you friends? It felt strange to think that Art Donaldson and you were friends- not because he wasn’t someone you’d want to call a friend, but because you’d finally let go of the idea of him as someone out of reach.

One day, when he walked you home, he asked why you took on a fourth shift, since you usually didn’t work Mondays. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Donaldson?” you asked with a half-smile. “Daisy,” he sighed, as if you were being ridiculous, even though he was the one who knew your schedule and which days you didn’t usually work. “I’m saving up for a ticket home for the holidays, so,” you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “You haven’t bought a ticket yet?” he asked, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “I’m buying it myself, so it’s taking me a minute.” Your parents had made it very clear they were only paying for your dorm. You bought your own books, and you had to cover your own flights. You didn’t look at him when you said it, afraid he might judge you- even if it was silly.

He stopped and looked at you. “That’s fucked up, (Y/N).” Whenever Art said your name like that recently, you knew he was serious, and that the conversation was drifting somewhere too deep. Like the time you talked about his grandmother, or his dad. “It is what it is,” you replied, continuing to walk, hoping he would keep walking too. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that they bought Jenny her train ticket. You didn’t want to dwell on the thought that even if it was cheaper, no one made her feel guilty for the only choice she’d ever made in her life. “I could get you a ticket,” he said, and this time, you stopped. “What the fuck?” you asked, your voice going up an octave. “I don’t need you to–” “For the miles. You can pay me back later,” he shrugged like it was no big deal. “I don’t need you to buy me a ticket. I don’t need your money, Art, let it go.” Your voice shook a little; you wondered if he heard it. “It’s not out of pity,” he said, voicing what you didn’t say. But you kept walking as if you hadn’t heard him.

“I wonder if we’ll find a spot in the library tomorrow,” you changed the subject to the first thing that popped into your head. Art didn’t say anything, but you knew it was the last thing he cared about at that moment. . . . A week before your flight, Billie cut your bangs. It’s not a cry for help, you told everyone who gave you a weird look. It’s cute. It’s fucking cute, ok? Art watched you from across the room at Patrick's party. You wondered if he'd say hello or if you'd both act like, at best, casual acquaintances- or, at worst, like you were just Jenny's little sister. You missed Lia and a few others who were fun to drink with and gossip with. You found out that Michelle was pregnant, which was a fucking scandal.

“Hey, stranger.” Art said when you walked into the kitchen. His eyes were redder than usual, and his smile was mischievous but tired. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, making Lia glance between the two of you. “Did you see she cut her bangs?” she asked, taking a sip from a drink you couldn’t quite identify. “It’s not a cry for help.” “It’s not a cry for help,” you both said together, but Art used a screechy voice, like he was imitating you, making Lia laugh. “She’s been yelling that at people all week,” he said to her, as if you weren’t standing right there. You considered grabbing a glass of wine and leaving them to talk alone. “Dave’s here,” Lia said suddenly, and you saw Art tense, his smile fading as if he sobered up instantly. If it weren’t for his telltale red eyes, there’d be no trace of it.

You and Dave had been together most of your last year in high school. He was the first guy you slept with, which was fine. It was just that everything felt a bit weirder whenever he was around since you broke up. It felt like you’d gone from friends to lovers to people scared of catching some incurable disease from each other if you'd even look at one another. “It’s totally fine,” you rolled your eyes, because, well, it really was fine. You hadn’t felt anything for Dave for almost a year. You regretted not knowing how he was doing or how he was handling college, but that’s life- you win some, you lose some.

“Little (Y/L/N),” Patrick Zweig’s voice grated in your ear. “Where’s (Y/L/N)?” he added quickly, probably drunker than usual, though you weren’t surprised. “Patrick,” Art muttered toward him, almost whining, like a man shocked by his best friend’s crudeness. “She’s at home, wasn’t feeling well.” You wondered if that was a convincing excuse for Jenny skipping Patrick’s party. But it was the excuse she left with you, and that’s what you’d stick to. “Well, at least we’ve got one family representative. What can you tell us about Art in California?” he asked, and you wondered why he was so desperate to put you in the spotlight. “Patrick, leave her alone,” Art’s tone was defensive, giving the guy next to him no option to dig any further. Patrick just flashed a mischievous grin and raised his hands in feigned surrender. “I like the bangs, you wear a mental breakdown well,” he chuckled and left the kitchen as chaotically as he’d entered, yelling something to Luke about beer pong. “Sorry, he’s an asshole,” Art said, sighing. You wondered when Lia had disappeared from your view. “He’s… Patrick,” you rolled your eyes. And it was true, you knew he didn’t act this way out of malice, he was just like that. “Want to get out of here?” Art asked. “Don’t you want to spend some time with your friends?” you returned the question. “I could use some air. Besides, who’s my friend here?” he shrugged. And as you both headed outside, you thought that was the saddest thing Art Donaldson had ever said to you.

"How does it feel to be home?" he asked. You want to say it’s ok, that it’s exactly what you dreamed, but it’s more like what you expected it would be. Your parents aren’t mad at you anymore, but they don’t approve of your decision either, and they remind you at every opportunity that they think you made a mistake. “It’s fine.” You shrugged. “I hate it when you say that,” he had this bitter laugh. “What?” You stopped for a moment and looked at him. “Every time you say something’s ‘fine,’ I know it’s not, and I have no idea how to get you to tell me.” He sighed, sitting down on a bench that hadn’t gotten wet from the rain that fell earlier in the afternoon.

“I’m not lying to you,” you tried to defend yourself, searching through your mind for other times you’d said something was ‘fine.’ You think he’s exaggerating. “I don’t think you’re lying. I think you don’t want to say things out loud,” he said. You think that if he weren’t a little drunk, he wouldn’t have brought up this conversation. “It’s weird, being home,” you said after a few seconds. He looked at you with wide eyes, waiting for you to say more. “I hate it when people call me ‘Little (Y/L/N).’ It feels like I don’t exist without Jenny,” you said, sharing something you hadn’t even told Lia. “I know,” Art said. “That’s why I get mad at Patrick when he calls you that.” He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. “How did you know?” you asked, surprised by the nonchalance with which he said it. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he asked with a half-smile, “I just know you, Daisy.” And if you didn’t know he was drunk and tired, you’d think there was sadness in his eyes. . . . A few days later, you saw Patrick at the grocery store, which was strange in itself because you were pretty sure Patrick Zweig had assistants to go grocery shopping for him. “Little (Y/L/N),” he said, and you’re fairly sure the smile on his face was genuine; he was actually glad to run into you. “Happy Christmas,” he said, stopping in front of you, holding a carton of orange juice and what looked like a frozen pizza. “I’m Jewish,” you rolled your eyes, only making him smile more. He knew that- he could deny it all he wanted, but Patrick knew Jenny very well, and you and Jenny shared genes. You both paid quietly for your items at the checkout, and as you stepped outside, he lit a cigarette, looking at you with an expression that seemed to expect you to stop and stand with him.

“I’m really glad you’re there with him at Stanford, you know?” he said after a few puffs of smoke. “Yeah? Why?” You tried to avoid smiling at him. You didn’t think he deserved a smile; he’s a jerk. “Because he’s better when you’re around,” he said softly, with a kind of depth you hadn’t seen in him before- something that made you think you understood what Jenny saw in him, how he managed to break her heart. “At tennis?” you asked. Because that’s all Patrick cared about- tennis, girls, and maybe Art. “At everything.” He shrugged, all the depth disappearing as he began to walk away. “Happy Hanukkah, Little (Y/L/N). Say hi to your sister for me.” You could see a wink. Patrick Zweig is defiantly an asshole. . . . You and Art went together to the New Year’s party at Stanford. Billie and Summer haven’t returned yet, and you’re almost certain Art moved his flight to catch the same one as yours, but you didn’t ask him about it because you think it would make you seem too smug. And you’re not. You really aren’t. You just think that if anything had changed from the last time he asked if you two were friends, he would have told you. But he hasn’t, so…whatever.

He sat on your bed today while you did your makeup, never taking his eyes off you through the mirror. Someone watching might think you’d hypnotized him. You don’t think you saw him blink once in the fifteen minutes he stared at you. “You like what you see?” you asked with a half-smile, still looking at his reflection. “What if I do?” he shrugged, as if this ridiculous flirtation was the truest thing he’d said in ages.

You decide not to linger too hard on his hand holding yours all the way to the party. Or on the fact that he kept you close to him while talking to people you didn’t know. On the effort he put into participating in a conversation with a friend you met in one of your courses. You try not to blush when he leans in and asks if you’re planning to kiss him at midnight. He's being bold. You think he’s acting like a brat. It should bother you. It doesn’t bother you.

You kiss him at midnight. Or maybe he kisses you. You’re not exactly sure, because you’re both so wrapped up in your own bubble, ignoring the drunken students around you. Your foreheads touch, and in an instant, your lips are on his, or his are on yours. It doesn’t matter. The result is the same. Beer and gum, and something else you can’t quite identify, maybe desperation. You like the mix. Maybe you shouldn’t, but you could get used to it. “It’s not silly, right?” you ask quietly while you both catch your breath. “It’s anything but silly, Daisy,” he says with certainty. And you don’t think you’ve ever heard Art Donaldson sound so resolute.

He kisses you all over when you get to your room. You thank the holiday gods for keeping your roommates away. Your red dress finds itself on the floor much faster than you expected. He’s too good at this. You’d feel much less confident if he didn’t look at you like you held the sun in your left hand and the moon in your right. You find yourself sitting on top of him in your bra and underwear, his hands on your hips steadying you. You’ve never felt sexier than you do right now. A little voice in your head screams at you to engrave this feeling. But you silence it; it’s insecure and reminds you of Jenny, the last person you want to think about when you’re at second base with Art Donaldson.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips trail down your neck to your chest, unclasping your bra with one hand like a pro. “Shut up,” you manage to say, and he chuckles into you, as if he’s trying to bury himself within you. It's hot, stupidly hot. In a few minutes, he half-gently tosses you onto the bed, stripping down with a speed you didn’t think possible. He leans over you in boxers, and you close your eyes for a moment, knowing you have to remember this. Because he really is a work of Art. You’ve never known anyone whose name suited them more.

His lips were everywhere on your body at once, if that’s even possible, and his fingers slid in and out of you before you even realized you’d lost your underwear or when you’d started making that sound from your throat. Everything embarrassed you but also felt natural. You’ve never experienced such a range of emotions with anyone else, and the second that thought crossed your mind, you found yourself on the edge, and Art was above you, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, whispering soothing words while you caught your breath.

He entered you, and you felt like he was enveloping you from every angle, your moans blending together. You think a tear slipped down your cheek. You’re almost sure Art kissed you right where it fell. He was both gentle and rough at the same time. You don’t think that makes sense, but a lot of things tonight don’t make sense. You almost laugh at that thought but decide against it. Instead, you look at him, only to find his eyes already on yours, and he’s so beautiful, with his blond curls and that smile stretched across his face. “Fuck, Art,” you manage to mumble as you feel another orgasm building within you, you didn’t know you were capable of more than one. To be honest, even one was rare until recently. “I know, Daisy, I know,” he says in a half-strangled voice before his lips are back on yours, his hand wrapping around yours, and you think it’s incredibly intimate. You’ve never had sex like this before. You don’t think there’s any trace of your old crush left. You think it might be love. After he cleans you up with a towel he soaked with warm water, he lies beside you, and the small bed forces you to stay close. Maybe it’s Art who refuses to let go. You’re not sure why, but your legs are tangled together and your head is resting on his chest. “Are you going to break my heart again?” he asks, and you don’t know what he means because you’ve never broken anyone’s heart, least of all Art Donaldson’s. But he’s so certain in his question, he doesn’t take it back. He doesn’t correct himself. “When did I ever break your heart?” you asked. “When didn’t you?” he replies with a half-laugh. “You gave me a flower when I was eight and then didn’t talk to me for ten years,” he says quietly, like he’s sharing a secret you already knew but never understood.

It’s definitely love. You think you’re okay with that.

Hey? I don't even know what's going on but i'd like you to tell me what you think about that? that's it. Talk to me I guess.............

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ FIX IT !

summary: you thought you were over it, the whole steve-and-nancy thing. spoiler alert: you aren't. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 3.5k warning: angst. gut wrenching angst. with a sort of happy ending. a/n: i'm such a sucker for angst it's gotta be unhealthy at this point. anyway, shout out to all my angsty fic enjoyers. let's read this and cry together <3

Having four roommates and only two bathrooms was worth it if it meant getting out of Hawkins. The apartment was a quaint little thing just outside of Indianapolis — up four flights of stairs with no elevator, cracks in the walls, and a stellar view of an alleyway.

But it was nice to have a place all your own. Sharing it with all your best friends was even better. That was the dream after all, wasn’t it? And being with Steve — that was just the cherry on top of it all.

So you weren’t going to let your mean, green, and envious heart ruin the new life you and your friends were trying to build in this tiny apartment.

You didn’t even think yourself the jealous type. Not until you realized that Steve was going to live under the same roof as his ex-girlfriend. It was dumb and it was irrational and you just couldn’t shake it.

It was probably a whole lot harder for Steve than it was for you, really. Besides, it had been years since they were together. Both of them had moved on, both of them had new and blossoming relationships.

Jonathan was good to Nancy. And to you, Steve was… well he was perfect. More importantly, he was yours. 

So it really shouldn’t bother you.

And it didn’t. Not for a while. 

Not until Nancy and Jonathan broke up out of nowhere and he’d announced to all of you on movie night that he was moving out.

He said that he missed California too much, that Argyle was getting lonely all the way out there, and that he had a spare room at his place. You couldn’t tell if that was the truth or just some bullshit excuse.

Maybe both.

What made it worse is that Nancy hadn’t seemed all that upset about it. Hell, you were more sad about him leaving than she was.

She told you as much during your weekly designated wine night (the one where you and her and Robin got drunk on cheap wine, while the rest of the boys fucked off and got drunker on cheaper beer).

“It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would,” she’d confessed with a shrug, only slightly tipsy and cheeks pink with it. “We… drifted apart, I guess. Just felt right to end it.”

You and Robin spent the rest of the night comforting her, anyway.

She loved Jonathan, everyone knew that. It sort of came with the whole shared trauma thing. She had to be at least a little bit sad that her person was gone, but she hid it away from the rest of you like it was her job.

But when the days got really bad, and she found herself missing Jonathan more than she liked, she sought refuge in Steve. Your Steve. 

And it made sense. He knew her better than the rest of you.

But it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

A sick feeling twists in your stomach when Steve accompanies the girl on a liquor store run without her having to ask. You watch with your heart in your throat when he leaves with her in the dead of night — a swirling bubble of jealousy in the pit of your chest with an ache so palpable you can taste it.

You spend the next several minutes trying not to look as sad as you feel while Eddie can’t stop debating on what the two of them might be talking about.

Nancy had been more reserved as of late, carrying a rain cloud over her as she wandered through the apartment like a ghost — he concludes they’re just going out to spill some hot goss. Robin makes him promise to never say those string of words ever again while you quietly dismiss yourself to your bedroom.

Nancy and Steve have been gone for an hour.

Lying in the dark and staring up at the textured, water-stained ceiling, you start to do the math. Fifteen minutes there, fifteen minutes back with traffic — but the streets are usually bare after nine o’clock. Either way, that leaves a half hour spent trying to choose what alcohol to splurge on.

You’ve seen Nancy try to pick out wine, she’s indecisive and a perfectionist to boot. She could spend hours dissecting each bottle to find the perfect one, if Robin wasn’t constantly over her shoulder rushing her.

Maybe that’s why Nancy had declined when the girl offered to tag along with them.

Or maybe she just wanted to be alone with Steve—

You have to physically shake that thought from your head. But even when you shut your eyes, it’s like the image of him and Nancy making out in the back of her Station Wagon is ingrained in the depths of your mind.

You curl into yourself and bathe in the depths of the dark abyss you’ve created in your bedroom, trying to see your way out of your handcrafted turmoil like a bad cold.

When Nancy and Steve return, they come cradling paper bags in their arms like babies.

Robin relieves the latter of the load in his hands and follows the darker-haired girl into the kitchen connected to the living room, no larger than a decent-sized closet.

Steve notices the lack of your presence as soon as he walks through the door. When he’d left, the three of you were pregaming — a feat that often led to Eddie breaking out his guitar and you and him singing terribly off-key to whatever was playing on the radio.

Now you’re nowhere to be found, and he feels it like a missed meal. He feels the ache of your absence like an empty stomach.

“Where’d she go?” Steve asks Eddie, who’s lounging on the couch and taking up the entire space — legs spread and arms thrown over the back.

The curly-haired boy takes a noisy sip of his nearly gone beer. Then exhales rather dramatically when he sits the can on his thigh. It leaves a damp ring on the denim. “Hey, buddy... Just blow in from stupid town?”

“…What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, already annoyed and knowing more than he lets on. “She’s in her room, dingus.”

“She okay?” Steve wonders with furrowed brows, uncaring of the use of the stupid nickname because there’s bigger things to worry about apparently.

It wasn’t like you to miss a night of drinking. He gets momentarily fearful that you’d gotten sick while he was away, that he wasn’t around to help you if you had.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Eddie lilts with wide eyes, like it’s a bright idea that neither of them would’ve thought of otherwise.

His sarcasm makes Steve roll his eyes, but he heeds the boy’s words anyway.

Through the short hallway and the last door on the right, he finds you in the darkness of your shared bedroom, illuminated only by the orange streetlight that filters through the blinds. You're hid beneath the covers, a little lump on the mattress. 

He idles in the doorway and waits for you to react to his presence.

You don’t.

“Hey, babe,” he greets cautiously after concluding you just hadn’t heard the door squeak open upon his arrival. “You feel okay?”

You mumble something he can’t quite make out. He takes the raised infliction as an affirmative and shifts his weight on his feet because it’s unlike you to be so one-note with him.

“Well, I, uh— I bought some of that wine you like... I couldn’t remember if you liked the blackberry or blueberry, so I ended up just getting both, you know, just in case.”

“Okay,” you respond after several agonizing seconds. Your voice sounds so fragile in the still darkness. Like he didn’t already know something was wrong.

He so desperately wants to pry but chooses to err on the side of caution for now, out of fear of turning the bad, worse.

“You wanna come down and try it with me? If you don’t like it we can always go back—”

“I’m okay,” you interrupt gently, with a tone so soft and coated with so much emotion that it makes his heart sink. You’re anything but and he knows it.

“Okay,” he nods anyway with the hope that he can pull you from this funk you’d managed to fall into. “Do you, uh… Do you want me to stay in here with you?”

He hears your deep sigh and sees the way the wad of blankets rises and falls again. A telltale sign of your annoyance. He knows then that he’s overstayed his welcome.

Your voice remains quiet but loses its kindness when you tell him: “You can do whatever you want, Steve.”

He’s hurt by the way you’re so suddenly short with him, then angered because he didn’t do anything to deserve it in the first place.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? What did I do?”

You don’t answer. You just sigh again, the same really big, dramatic one that’s more to showcase your irritation with him than anything else.

You’re more than keen to end the conversation right there, but Steve isn’t. Not when something’s eating you away from the inside out and he can’t do anything to help you because you won’t let him. 

“Babe, c’mon. I get it, alright? You’re mad at me. Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it,” you monotone, stifled beneath the covers.

“I can’t fix it?” he repeats with furrowed brows. “What do you mean, I can’t fix it?”

You use your silence as an answer, as a weapon. It’s almost worse than any silver-tongued reply you could've given him. The quiet forces him to think for himself and imagine all the things he could’ve done wrong that he can’t take back. It feels like quicksand.

Did he forgot to kiss you good morning? Of course, he didn’t — actually, he gets mad at you for forgetting — and you were golden before he left. Eddie probably said something stupid, that was likely. Or maybe Robin made a joke that upset you, that was even more likely. 

He figures it’s something in between all those. Something silly that feels like the end of the world. He can make it better. He always makes it better.

Steve lifts the lump of covers you shield yourself with and crawls beneath them with the intention of pulling you out of the void you’ve sunken into.

It’s not so comfortable, lying in bed in socks and jeans and a collared shirt, but he doesn’t need to feel good right now — you do. He’ll be content if he can just hold you in his arms for a couple of hours, the rest of the night if that’s what you need.

But he can’t even do that.

He reaches for your arm, fingers just barely trailing across the warm skin there, and you jerk away from him like he’s shocked you.

It startles him, how quick you are to avoid him. It has him jerking back too, because you’ve never denied him the opportunity to touch you. He becomes the same sort of storm cloud that you are now, because he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. Any of it.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks you, less soft than he’d been before.

You sniffle. “I told you I didn’t want you going out alone with Nancy anymore,” you mumble, face still shoved into your pillow. The words are slightly muffled but he can hear the tears that coat your voice. 

“That’s what this is about?” he wonders, not as empathetic as you’d hoped he might be, but genuinely confused. With your back to him, you don’t see the smile pulling at his lips while he shakes his head, like it’s funny to him. “Babe, we were just getting drinks. It’s no different than you going out with Robin.”

“It’s totally different! Because I was never in love with Robin. She was never in love with me—”

“Well, I beg to differ,” he murmurs in a soft laugh.

“It’s not funny, Steve,” you retort wetly and then sniffle again. When you turn to face him, he sees for the first time what he’s done to you.

The orange of the streetlight lamp outside bathes you in a sunset shade of neon — your eyes are glassy with tears that gather at your lashes. Emotions glow at the tip of your nose and your cheeks. Your skin would be hot to the touch if he felt you now.

“Do you know how weird it is for me? To watch my boyfriend and his ex go fuck around with me?” you ask him with a scrunched nose and brows, like your trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him.

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve scolds. “She just wanted to get alcohol for tonight and had some shit to get off her chest. I mean, she’s been having a really hard time lately—”

“It’s not your job to take care of her, Steve!” you shout before you even realize you’re shouting. You take in a shuddered breath and let it out in a trembling sigh, shining eyes flitted away from him and towards the ceiling as you calm yourself down.

When you start your lament again, you’re quieter.

“You can’t just be this, like, emotional crutch for her every single time something’s wrong. She’ll just get invested in you all over again and…”

Steve watches from beside you, propped up on his elbow, as you trail off. The frown between your eyebrows deepens, a great and inquisitive crevice, while your eyes widen and your mouth falls softly agape — like you’ve discovered something in the midst of your rant.

“Is— Is that what you want?” you ask him then. “Do you, like, need her attention to feed your ego or something?”

He’s too offended by your words to tell you all the ways they aren’t true. “What? No! Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Steve.”

“What is?”

“Watching you and her together!” you admit through a tightening throat. You rise from where you’d been laying down and Steve follows you, settling in front of you as you wrap your arms around your knees. “When I have to sit here, by myself, while you guys spend time alone. When she always knows what you’re up to, and I don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quietly, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“—It’s not fair. She’s not your girlfriend, Steve, I am. It’s your job to take care of me, not her.”

Steve deflates like a popped balloon. His chin falls to his chest and his eyes squeeze shut at the weight of your words.

It’s like you’re reminding him that he’s supposed to be in love with you and not someone he cared for a long time ago. Like you felt the need to remind him because you thought he’d forgotten somewhere down the line.

It hurts him too. It feels like you’ve got his heart in your hands and you're wringing it in your grip.

“You’re right,” Steve concedes with a nod. “I just... I guess, I never thought about it like that.”

He feels the same way, too, sometimes. When you and Eddie go all buddy-buddy mode and want to spend time together.

When you’re out all night with him at band practice. When you’re attached at the hip and having sleepovers in his room to talk about everything and nothing for hours until you fall asleep when the sun rises. When you both come down at one in the afternoon the next day for breakfast, giggling about the thing you said the night before.

It makes him feel like he’s missing out. Like you’re sharing parts of yourself with someone else and he isn’t allowed to see it.

And sometimes he gets irrational — keeps himself up all night as he imagines you and Eddie making out on his floor after going through all his new tapes or fucking in his unmade bed while he keeps a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

Steve concocts waking nightmares for himself whenever you’re not beside him.

But even then, it’s different. Because he used to do all that shit with Nancy. They fell in love, made out for hours because they didn’t want to stop feeling each other, had sex on a twin-sized bed and tried to keep from falling out of it while they did.

You’d never done that shit with Eddie — or with anyone you’re now sharing a home with. Besides Steve.

Because he’s yours now. And you’re his.

But you can’t stop thinking about how he used to be Nancy’s too.

“I don’t need you to tell me that I’m right,” you murmur with the childlike shake of your head, slow and lazy, as you wipe your wet cheek on your shoulder. “I need you to do something about it— I needed you to do something about it a long time ago.”

“I will, okay? I will. I promise. I’ll fix it,” Steve assures you quickly, with wide and hopeful eyes and a nodding head that makes his hair flop against his forehead.

He can see you losing hope in front of him, like a flame going slowly out. You’re slipping away. He keeps fighting to keep a hold of you.

“No.”

“…No?”

“You can’t,” you sniffle. “You can’t fix it.”

“Baby—”

“It’s not fair. To either of us,” you tell him, looking at him through clumped together lashes and heavy, sparkling eyes. “And it’s not your fault, okay? But I can’t keep feeling this like. It’s not healthy— this isn’t… this is what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. It shouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve blinks back stinging tears. He brings his hand to his face and rubs the back of it against his burning nose. He feels a bit like you do now, hopeless. You’re slipping away and he is too and you both just keep on slipping, just going going going.

“You’re not even—” he clears his throat when his voice breaks halfway through. “You’re not even gonna let me try?”

You shrug weakly. Tears burn as they gather at your waterline. You revel in the sting because it’s better than the hole ripping through your chest.

“I don’t know. I think… I think it’s too late.”

“Why would you say that?” Steve agonizes with the shake of his head, looking like a wounded puppy as he gaze at you with brown eyes full of hurt. “Don’t say that. Don’t.”

“Steve—”

“No,” he interjects firmly, stopping the spiral before it can start again.

He positions himself so he’s sitting further ahead of you and holds your arms in his numbing hands, ducking down to catch your gaze when you try to look away from him.

“I love you, okay? I’m an idiot and I’m sorry and I'm stupid, alright? I wasn’t thinking. But we can’t just… It’s not too late. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

Your chest aches at his plea, at the way he still doesn’t understand.

It’s not his fault you feel this way, not entirely. It’s not anyone’s fault and that’s what’s so scary. There’s no one to blame the pain on, no root to cut out and put an end to it. You’re frightened that it’s always going to be there, constantly in the way, forbidding either of you from ever moving on.

“Steve...” you murmur through tears while the boy gathers you in his arms. You try to stop him but your voice gets caught in your throat halfway through. Because you don’t want him to stop. Not ever.

He nurses you into his velvet hold, wrapping a pair of strong arms around you to cage you against him. He presses his nose into your temple while he rocks you back and forth. “I promise. Everything’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

He repeats that like a mantra while you keep your head pressed against his chest — everything’s gonna be okay, I can fix it, I love you.

It’s a promise. One that he’d rather die than break. 

You stay there, curled against his chest, while dark feelings ebb and flow in a constant and bitter cycle.

You hope he’s right. That these big feelings are just big stupid feelings that'll pass come the pink and blue sunrise. That everything really is going to be okay and that he really can fix it. 

Because even now, all hopeless and full of doom and gloom, you feel soothed in his hold. You’ve never felt safer anywhere else. You’ve built a home in the peace of Steve’s arms and you want to keep on living in them.

“I’m gonna make it better,” he whispers against the crown of your head. If you’ll let me.

He feels you nod lazily against him. “Okay.”

[rinnsverse]

SPOILED!MEGUMI — headcanons

megumi was raised by gojo, he’s bound to be spoiled one way or another

CHAR: megumi fushiguro, satoru gojo

PAIRING(S): megumi fushiguro x gn!reader (can be read as platonic)

A/N: this is a topic that isn’t discussed enough, so I’m writing it and potentially going to elaborate on some more later

i would like to start off by saying i do not intend to paint megumi in a negative light by saying he’s spoiled — but i do intend on putting him in a goofy one

to be honest, megumi isn't that self-aware as he seems

y'all seen that one episode that inspired this post where yuji and nobara freak out over the price of gojo's shirt and question whether it's with tax or not and megumi deadass asks if tax matters? yea interpret that as you will

there is a decent chance that he doesn’t necessarily understand the value of money very well, which probably has something to do with the Gojo effect™️

ngl he probably said ‘print more money’ once and got attacked for it so he never said it again

but he's also so lowkey about it too like you would have never guessed that this boy would be as materialistic as gojo is

like he wears the same shit gojo does that's really expensive quality but doesn't have the brand name plastered onto it since he finds it tacky so you'll just never know unless he exclusively tells you

he also does have a talent of knowing what is good quality and what isn't; he would do great for those cheap vs. expensive videos

can also spot knock-offs from a mile away but never says anything about it since he doesn't have enough in him to care about that kind of stuff

so the first time both of you — including yuji and nobara — hangout at the mall and when you ask what he plans on getting and he just replies with something along the lines of new shoes so just imagine the collective shock between you all when he makes a beeline towards prada

"My boots got ruined last mission so I plan on getting a new pair."

"Okay, what store are you gonna be in so we can find you later?"

"Prada."

"Bitch what the fuck did you just say."

you didn't know what hurt more, megumi not telling any of you about the fact that he was loaded or his absolute nonchalance about the situation

and due to the amount of shock all of you were in, you all followed megumi like little ducklings bcuz his casual nonchalance about it was concerning

he was slightly embarrassed but found it easier to just pretend the rest of you weren't there during his hunt for new boots

it was also quite nerve wracking for you all since yuji only buys things from walmart and though nobara has expensive taste, she knows how to budget while you stay away from all things worth more than rent out of fear of damaging anything and having to pay for it

so it was safe to assume that it looked liked a bunch of kindergarteners in a line following their chaperone during a school field trip — just a lot more quieter and careful which cannot be said for every outing much to megumi’s dismay

megumi didn't take that long before picking out a pair that he liked and began to pay for under three pairs of wide eyes due to the sole fact that he pulled out a black card in order to pay for it

"Don't worry, it's Gojo's."

that statement did not help the situation at all

it also caused the three of you to demand why he isn't spending that money on you all to which his reply is just a deadpan: 'you never asked.'

i feel like this also extends to his taste in food as well

like when you suggest to head to the food court in the mall since yuji was getting hungry; this man has the audacity to disaprove since he doesn't like the taste

now that reasoning isn't the problem, the problem is that he suggests to eat at some expensive ass place an hour away because he was craving it and it was one of the only places gojo introduced to him as a kid which he actually liked

though he was forced to toss the idea aside due to the fact that there was no way you all could split the bill that way and you all weren’t that patient enough to walk an hour all the way to a restaurant you couldn’t even afford

it’s not that megumi didn’t offer to pay, he did, nobara just didn’t like the feeling of having to owe someone

that is until Gojo stumbles across his students and decides to get them food at the same exact place megumi suggested

A/N: writing this made me hungry

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Leighton x reader where reader faints for some reason and she is her overprotective and over worried girlfriend 🫶

911

|| Leighton Murray x fem!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, overprotective Leighton, reader passes out from alcohol, drinking, college party, fluff/hurt, hookup mentions, throw up mentions, alcohol poisoning mentions

|| Summary; Leighton and reader attend an Essex party, reader over does it a bit on the alcohol..

Requests open!

Started; october 18th

Finished; october 18th

~~~

Surprisingly, Essex has been going pretty well for you so far. You were doing well in your class, you had friends and a crazy hot girlfriend. Things were pretty good. You've been studying a lot lately and now that your test was over with, Leighton (said hot girlfriend) was inviting you over to a house party. So you guys could get lose together and just have a shit ton of fun, probably hook up somewhere... you couldn't help but smirk at the thought as you got ready. Adding the finale touches to your makeup as a knock came to your door.

Getting up from your chair, you headed over and smiled when you saw Leighton there. Taking in her outfit. Yeah, your girlfriend was rich and her party fit screamed that. You loved it though and it got you to blush pretty easily. She smirked at you when she noticed," damn, blushing for me already? I'm not even in the door yet." Leighton teased, you rolled your eyes and pulled her in. Closing the door behind her as you pushed her up against it.

"Oh fuck off," You murmured, kissing her deeply and making a small moan when her tongue pushed through. Her hands cupped your cheeks as the kiss became more desperate. Both of you wanting more. But you remembered the party and broke the kiss, taking a moment to collect yourself." Come on, let's do some pregaming before we go."

"Got anything good?" Leighton asked as she followed you to the kitchen where you went to the mini fridge.

"Nope, all cheap trash. Not all of us are crazy rich, babe." You glanced at her then took out the alcohol, setting it on the counter. Leighton huffed.

"Next time I'm just gonna buy it cause what is this crap, Y/N?" She picked up one of the bottles, some brand she's never even heard before.

"The best alcohol $10s can buy, that's what." You laughed at her reaction and she grimaced.

"Jesus Christ, you are poor."

"Hey!!" You whined but she just smiled innocently and took a drink from the bottle, gagging slightly at the taste.

"That's fucked." She points to it and you snatch it from her.

"It can't be that bad." You roll your eyes and give it a try, immediately the foul taste hits your lips and you pull the bottle away. Nearly throwing up then and there.

"Not that bad, huh?" Leighton laughs as she watches you.

"Okay yeah, it's bad.. my bad." You raise a hand in defeat and she just laughs more, taking a picture of you.

"You're lucky you're cute otherwise I might've ended this over that." Leighton teased, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

"Oh really? You would've broken up with me over bad alcohol?" You grinned, looking up into her eyes.

"Oh absolutely. Would've been a really messy break up too." Leighton kissed you, but both of you cringed when the alcohol hit your lips again." Yeah, never buy that shit again."

"I definitely won't." You assured her, making a mental note to cross that brand off on a 'do not buy' list. Wow, the taste was still in your mouth. You nearly gagged again. Holding your fist to your mouth." Christ."

The party was in full swing by the time you and Leighton got there, the blonde practically dragged you over to where the good alcohol was.

"We gotta wash this shit out of our mouths." Leighton said, you nodded in agreement.

"Definitely. Pass me a-" You asked her to pass her your favourite, she nodded and handed it to you before taking her own. Both of you chugged the drink down.

"See? That's good alcohol." Leighton points to her now empty can.

"Yeah, okay I get it, Leight." You huff and pulled her against you. She smirks and gives you a kiss, both of you feeling a little tipsy.

As the night went on, you met up with Leighton's roommates. All five of you hanging out, drinking and dancing. You'd gotten a little ahead of yourself and next thing you knew, all you saw was black.

Leighton turned from her conversation with Whitney only to see you passed out on the ground, her eyes widened," fuck-!" She ran over to you and kept you in her arms. Her roommates had run over to help, but Leighton glared at them," give her some fucking space, God."

"Okay, okay." Whitney backed up, urging the others to do the same and raised her hands." let's just calm down for a moment."

"You want me to calm down when my girlfriend could have alcohol poisoning?" Leighton hadn't told them you were her girlfriend yet, she was working up to that point but definitely hadn't expected it to come out like this.

The three's eyes widened but they knew that wasn't the focus right now. They could go back to that when you were okay.

"I'm calling 911." Kimberly said, desperately trying to get her phone and fumbling it in her hands as she trembled. She wasn't good under pressure like this.

Leighton wasn't even paying attention to them anymore, she had slapped you across the face in a desperate attempt to wake you up. Making Bela wince.

"Leighton, that's not-" Bela had started to say.

"Fuck, I know, alright!" Leighton snapped, she was just praying for anything to work. She hated seeing you like this. She should've kept a better eye on you and what you were taking. She thought you would've known better.

The ambulance arrived and you got taken to the hospital, with Leighton in the back and her roommates trailing behind in an uber. Bela dragged them along because she didn't want to miss this. Overprotective Leighton? Hell yeah, she wanted to see that shit.

Time dragged on and it felt like forever to Leighton before you finally woke up. Your eyes widened when you realized where you were and tried to sit up, only to feel nauseated and lay back down before Leighton could even tell you to. She was incredibly relieved to see you and hit your shoulder," do you have any idea how scared I was?!" She yelled, you sighed.

"Did I drink too much?" You weren't entirely sure why you were here. Leighton groaned and folded her arms across her chest.

"Yeah, that's what the doctor said. So you better not throw up on me." In hindsight, she probably wouldn't care as much as she let on if you did. She just wanted you to be okay.

Her roommates were outside the door, listening in. Leighton wouldn't let them inside. You glanced to the window and raised an eyebrow when you saw Bela suddenly duck down.

"Roommates followed?" You asked, a little confused.

"Yup. Cause they're a bunch of nosey assholes!" She said loud enough for them to hear, getting a laugh out of you.

"Don't lie, you love them."

"I almost preferred it when you were unconscious." Leighton replied, making you laugh a little harder. You knew she didn't mean it, sometimes being mean was just her love language. You loved that about her.

Some more time passed and you were able to return to the college once the doctors ran tests to make sure you were okay. Leighton never let you out of her sight.

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

How about Tara and R grew very close, kissed here and there but then Tara friendzones R. R distances herself and only then Tara realizes that she wants more than friendship

We're Gonna Make It Work

5 times Tara and Y/N shared meaningless kisses + one time they actually meant it. Or: A quick 5 + 1 fic!

Disclaimer: certain themes in this story I don't have tons of experience with, so sorry if not everything's accurate. EX: I definitely haven't been to a college party lmao.

Tara and I met on our first day in college. Freshmen year in college is intimidating enough. Freshmen Year in a big city like New York is terrifying.

We bonded quickly, and soon enough I was spending tons of time with her friend group. I even introduced my roommate, Anika to my new friend, Mindy, and now the two are happily dating. It seems I've seamlessly assimilated into their group.

I've always thought she was extremely beautiful. I really don't want to risk the friendship I've worked so hard to build with her. At the same time, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to try.

The first time we kissed it was an accident. That's all it was. An accident.

She was blackout drunk at a party. Mindy and Anika had disappeared into some room. Chad was doing shots in the kitchen. Ethan was at his dorm, doing homework like the "quirky" pick me he is.

So many people crowded the building, dancing terribly to awful music, drunk on cheap booze. The frat house reeked of liquor and the distinct scent of marijuana.

Not to say I wasn't drunk too, though. Just less drunk than everyone else in the group. There was a slight wobble in my step as I walked from the kitchen to the living room, wanting to sit for a split second.

Tara had a three round winning streak at beer pong against some guy I'd never seen before. In the corner of my eye, I could see her downing a cup every 45 seconds or so. Maybe if the alcohol hadn't clouded my judgement, I would have been smart enough to get her away from that sooner.

It wasn't until I saw her wobbling towards the steps with he guy she had just been competing with that I sprang into action.

In retrospect, can see why people call booze liquid courage. Man, if I were sober, there would have been no way I would do what I did next.

"Hey, Tara, your boyfriend's looking for you," I grabbed her away from the clearly less drunk man in front of me. He reached out and grabbed her other arm, "she'll be fine."

"Her boyfriend is a football recruit," I lied, "he'll beat the shit out of your weak ass."

"What?" she slurred, unable to comprehend what I'm saying.

"I said, your boyfriend's here, let's go find him," I repeated, dragging her away from the situation.

"Why did you do thattttt," she whined once we're out of ear shot.

"He was taking advantage of you, you'll thank me in the morning," I told her, "you're a mess, let's get you home."

Luckily, her apartment wasn't far, because I was practically carrying her down the street. She flutters in and out of consciousness, making her balance even less stable.

The elevator ride was painfully quiet, what even is there to say. I opened the apartment door, guiding the barely conscious Tara inside. Immediately, I saw Sam, sitting in the kitchen. Waiting for us.

"Where were you?" she interrogated, "I was scared out of my mind."

"Hey, Sam, she's pretty fucked up right now, maybe you should wait for her to sober up. I'm gonna get her to sleep, okay?" She nods, angrily. I can tell she isn't happy about this.

I walkedvTara down to her room, setting her down on the bed.

"Goodnight, Tara," I smiled, helping her take off her shoes and pulling the blankets up over her.

"Night Night, pretty girl," she pulled my face down for a quick kiss.

What the fuck is happening? I could taste the burning liquor on her lips. She's gonna have one hell of a headache in the morning. I quickly break away, I can't do this while she's drunk.

The second time we kiss, she's actually sober.

It's a silly situation, really.

We're at Rockefeller center, shopping for clothes on sale. They put up the ice rink for the winter. Even though it's technically November, I guess New York doesn't care about technical seasons though.

Tara and I stroll down the pavement, warm coffee in our hands. She's very cute all bundled up in her winter gear. A beanie compresses her bangs, and her winter coat looks nearly suffocating yet not nearly arm enough for a New York winter.

"Fuck," she mumbles, looking behind us.

"What's wrong?" I ask, concerned.

"I need you to kiss me, right now," she commands.

"Damn, at least take me out to dinner first," I laugh awkardly.

"Y/N, shut up and do it, I'll explain later," she pleads. I happily oblige her, allowing her lips to make their way to mine. She caresses my cheek through her gloved hands, and I find myself lost in a daze. She's good at this. Her hands slide down my face to wrap themselves around my neck and she slowly breaks the kiss. A part of me wished it would never end.

"So you wanna tell me what that was about?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Creepy ex, wanted to make sure he didn't think he had a shot," she explains. My face falls. Such an amazing experience, ruined by the context.

"I'm sorry, Tar," I pull her closer to me, wrapping my arms around her.

We kiss for a third time a month later.

"Hi," I smile, walking through the apartment door, "why'd you call?"

"I don't know, I'm just bored I guess," she shrugs.

"Okay," I say. To be honest, I needed something to do with my afternoon, and who better to spend it with.

We decide to put on a movie, Clueless. I found some popcorn in the cabinet, so I decided to microwave some up.

I place the metal bowl between us on the couch. I think if I'm much closer to her I might try to kiss her again.

"So, what have you been doing these past few weeks?" she asks.

"The usual," I respond, "homework, my job, and sleeping. And you?"

"Yeah, just homework," she purses her lips, trying to think.

God what I would give to feel those soft warm lips again.

"No, I've also been reading some weird ass Stephen King book about a guy going crazy."

"So pretty much every Stephen King book?" I ask.

"Not true!" she playfully shoves me, "IT is about multiple people going crazy. The Dark Half is about someone who thinks he's crazy, but also knows he's not. There's lots of non insanity related ones too."

"Nerd," I playfully tease her.

"Shut up," she laughs.

"Make me?" I tease her more.

"Nope, sorry, you gotta earn that," she teases back.

I open a beer for each of us, "It's happy hour somewhere."

"It's 4:30, so we're not doing terribly," she reminds me.

"We're great at this," I joke.

"So great at this."

We go back to the movie, it's such a classic. Other than the ending, it's a perfect movie.

She smiles a priceless smile when Cher assumes Tai doesn't know seven multiplied by seven.

"This girl! I swear, she was a perfect casting for Tatum in Stab!"

"You have a great smile," I muse aloud, quickly regretting it. Damn it. Why did I say that?

"Thank you," I can see a blush creeping up her cheeks as she starts to smile even wider.

The movie seems to fade out of view as does everything else except us. The popcorn bowl is quickly discarded and her lips crash onto mine, kissing with a desperation so strong it's almost aggressive. I immediately reciprocate the kiss, leaning forward to get closer to her.

"If we do this," she pants in between kisses, "there's no strings attached."

I nod in agreement.

We fall into a routine of kissing or hooking up no strings attached. I know friend with benefits never works. Especially if you already have feelings for that person but god, she's irresistible.

There's two notable times after that afternoon when it feels different.

The first time, she's coming out of a rough therapy session.

"Hello, this is Y/N L/N," I answer the phone.

"Hey, Y/N, it's Tara," I can hear her voice crack.

"Hey Tara, what's up?" I ask.

"C-can you come over?" she says, trying to sound nonchalant about it. I see right through her facade.

"On my way, stay safe, pretty girl," I rush to the subway, trying to catch the first train I can to her side of the city.

I practically tear down the door to get into the apartment, there's nothing to do but make a beeline for Tara's room.

"Hey Tar, I'm here," I quietly announce.

She bolts up and wraps herself around me in a near suffocating hug. Her tears soak their way through my shirt, and I caress her hair comfortingly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

"No," she shakes her head.

"Can I do anything at all to help?"

"You can distract me," she winks. I nod, a little unsure of what to do.

Is this really the right time to hook up with her? Like she should be in a place of emotional stability to properly consent, right?

"Y/N, I know your like panicking about the morals, but please. Just do it. I need it. Please?" she widens her eyes pleadingly. How can I say no to that?

The next time of note is also the last time.

I've become unhappy with this whole "friends with benefits thing." I know, it was stupid of me to agree to it in the first place. And don't get me wrong, I've had tons of fun. So much fun. But there's limits to our situation.

I want to be able to tell her how I feel, I want strings attached. I want to take her out on dates, and hold her hand in front of our friends.

It's a freezing cold Thursday, I'm so tired. I forgot my textbooks at Tara's apartment after our "study" session last night, so i had to take a subway back to get them, which made me late the the only lecture I was interested in. Damn it.

I had thirty minutes to kill until my next class, so here I am, in the school courtyard, thinking about Tara.

Do I love her? Yes.

Does she love me? I don't know.

Will telling her I need to be more than just friends with benefits risk everything? Yes.

Speak of the devil and she shall appear, because right as I'm thinking about this, I see a short brunette making a beeline towards me. I think this means we need to discuss this.

"Hey there, tiny Carpenter," I tease her.

"Shut up!" she gets on the tips of her toes to pat my head.

"Do you wanna come over tonight?" I ask, "Anika and Mindy are having a date night?" I figure then would be a good time to tell her.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur and just a few hours later, I hear Tara's familiar voice at my door.

I take a deep breath, "Hey Tar, can we talk? I ask.

"What's up?" she asks.

"I feel like this isn't working," I admit, it's pretty obvious almost immediately what I'm talking about.

"O-oh," she stammers, "why?"

Oh god this is so awkward, like what are you supposed to say, yeah no I'm in love with you.

"I.... cuz friends with benefits never works out when there's feelings involved," I word vomit.

"Oh...."

"Yeah...."

We sit in an awkward silence.

"Tara, please say something," I say quietly.

"I'm so sorry, I can't do this anymore," she gets up and leaves, but I'm frozen in my seat. Unable to move.

I don't see Tara except in a few classes for at least a month. Though it could have been longer or shorter. Not like I want to see her though.

The days begin to blend together in a big lengthy mess.

I barely turn my assignments in, and the best grade I've gotten was a low C.

I go to parties more often than before. Hooking up with strangers, drinking myself to a blackout and being hungover as hell in the morning.

Anika's voiced her concern for me, but I find it so hard to listen.

I'm just numb.

I don't think I ever felt anything before I met Tara, and I don't think I'll feel anything again without her.

And to think of all the times we've kissed, made out and hooked up. Did those mean anything to her? She barely meets my gaze in class.

We haven't talked at all.

Lying down in my bed, I stare at the ceiling, out of the corner of my eye, I can see the date on the calendar.

March 7. It's been four months since our kiss at Rockefeller. I guess I should just forget about that though.

I hear a quiet knocking on my door, "come in, Anika.

The door slowly creaks open and in steps Tara.

"Hey," she says quietly. I scramble up to my feet, preparing to tell her to get out.

"Before you scream at me and tell me to go away, just let me talk?"

I nod wondering why can I never say no to her. I gesture for her to sit next to me.

"Look, I fucked up," she admits, "friends with benefits almost never works out. And I'm so so sorry. I didn't realize fucking it up would mean hurting you. I really thought about what you said."

"What did I say?" I asked.

"That what we had wasn't working," she says.

"And what have you decided?"

"It wasn't," she reassured me, "but it could."

I'm totally taken aback, "If you think I want to be 'just a friend that you sometimes fuck,' you're crazy, Tara."

"No, I mean a real relationship," she blurts.

"Huh?"

"Y/N, I have feelings for you!" she exasperatedly exclaims.

"Y-you do?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah, I do," I see a blush creep up her cheeks.

"Well I like you too," I smile. She starts to get closer to me, but I stop her, "Look, give me a week to turn around my mental wellbeing, and I'll take you out on a date. I want to do this, but I want to do it right."

"Take your time," she smiles back, "see ya on Saturday for this 'date' you wanna take me on."

She winks, gets up, and leaves the dorm, blowing me a kiss on the way out.

We're gonna make this work.

[beyondsuki]

Star - Shine

Star

/stär/

a fixed luminous point in the night sky which is a large, remote incandescent body like the sun.

Toji Fushiguro

The woman in the ring

Instagram - Masterlist

Pairing: MmaFighter!Fushiguro Toji x black f!reader

Genre: Romance, Smut, Angst

Summary: What happens when you help MMA fighter Fushiguro Toji —unbeknownst to him—in his time of need?

Toji thought himself a simple man. A simple man who had never fallen in love. Although he would never audibly admit that.

Yes, there was a period in his life when he was married but he never truly felt there. He was young, and a star on the rise. Temptation was all around him yet he stayed faithful and committed to his vows. For five years he was betrothed. Tied down, trapped. For five years his marriage was perilous.

The cause of the divorce was an affair accusation. She thought he was sleeping with a journalist. A journalist? He laughed when she vocalized her concerns. She was incandescent. “You really think that I would sleep with a journalist?” That one sentence matured into a fight neither of them came back from.

He left that night and returned the next morning with divorce papers. He allowed her to keep the house while he now resides in a penthouse that overlooks the city. Every once in a while, a feeling of penitence washes over him and leaves him wondering whether or not he should’ve just stayed. “Toji! Hurry up, we have to get going, the fight is about to start.” He finished wrapping his fists. He grabbed his silk robe off its hook and slipped it on. The coolness of it lasted a few seconds longer than usual before latching on to his body heat. As he walked out and the routine cheering of his fans filled his senses, an unfamiliar face in the crowd caught his eye.

You work hard. You’re currently in medical school earning your M.D. so you can cross the finish line with the label and job title ‘Neurosurgeon’. “(Y/N) Come onn why not?!” Your friend Stacey from your class based solely on muscles was trying to get you to come to watch a fight. “We are in Medical School Stace, why do you want to see people hurting themselves deliberately?!” “It’s not even about that for real.” She said tucking her brown hair behind her ear. Her green eyes flashing with a fierce incentive. “Then what is it about?” “Have you seen Toji Fushiguro!?” “No. And I don’t want to see him.” She pulled out her phone “Let me just show you.” You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily knowing you wouldn’t be able to win this fight. She pulled up a picture and tilted the phone toward you. “Wow.” He is.. “I know right!! So let’s goo I literally bought two tickets and they weren’t cheap.” “Fine.” She had finally persuaded you into getting ready.

You readied yourself and are now sitting in the front row of the Fushiguro Toji vs Alexei Morozov fight waiting for the star fighter to come out. A coalescence of music and loud screaming invaded your ears making you turn your head towards the back. He was much larger than you imagined. Standing at, at least 6’5 this burly man managed to win the hearts of more than a few thirst quenched women. His sinewy muscles stuck out like a sore thumb. And his very presence left a bitter sweet taste in your mouth.

Someone slapped your shoulder dragging you out of your daydream “He’s looking over here oh my god!?” His gaze robbed you of an essential part of human homeostasis—your breath.

You ripped your eyes away from his and looked to the floor. When he walked on stage and his back was to you, you looked up again. You watched as the ‘Fushiguro’ on his silk robe morphed as he slipped it off. When the fight started you winced at the first punch. Tricep, Bicep, Latissimus dorsi, gluteus medius. You named the muscles being hit as practice due to yet another test the next day. Suddenly, Fushiguro was hit in the head and started bleeding.. a lot. You stood out of habit to get a closer look. The ‘medic’ that was attempting to stop the bleeding was failing miserably at her job. You pushed past the journalists and photographers.

“You need to apply pressure!” You yelled trying to get as close as possible. “Ma’am I’m gonna need you to back up.” Some guy with long hair said. “I know I know but your medic is not helping him. She needs to apply pressure to stop the bleeding and he needs to be stitched immediately.” The man looked back at the ‘medic’ staring at the fighter with goo-goo eyes. He pursed his lips and lifted the tape. You walked through and made your way to the mat. You tapped on the woman’s shoulder “Excuse me” she moved out of the way instinctively. “Hello Mr. Fushiguro.” You said while sliding your hands through a pair of latex gloves.

He looked at you confused. “You don’t know me but I’m here to help you.” You took some gauze from the pile of medical supplies and applied pressure to the cut above his eyebrow. You were wearing a black skirt with a white button-down top that slightly exposed your cleavage. His gaze could be felt even under the angry burn of the lights. You frantically searched the pile for an alcohol wipe. Once you found one you held it up to him “Rip.” He did as you asked “This is going to sting.” He pulled air through his teeth as you cleaned it. “Is there thread over there?” You asked the former ‘medic’ who just stood there in awe “Hello?” “O-oh me?” “Who else would I be talking to?” You said. Words coming out laced with venom “I-uh no there’s not.” “Of course not..” you glanced down. Next best thing you thought as you picked up some glue.

You applied it to the wound and squeezed. You grabbed some tape that specialized in holding wounds together and placed it on the cut. “Rag,” you said to the girl. She quickly handed you a rag and you wiped the sweat, dirt, and blood off the fighter's face. You paused for a moment as you looked into his eyes. The one thing you’d been avoiding all night. Brown pools of the sweetest honey. You snapped out of it though when you felt his large hands on your waist. He gently moved you out of the way to get up. You felt heat crawl up your neck, feeling grateful that your brown skin hid the blush appearing. This was when you noticed all the blood that stained your shirt.

You left the ring entering back into reality as you searched for your brunette friend. As you were removing your gloves you heard a familiar voice. “Oh my god!- Will you leave me the fuck alone! She’s my friend and I’m a doctor!” The man with raven hair lifted the tape reluctantly and Stacey ran over to you “Oh my god! How was it?! What was he like!?” She said frantically trying to look behind you to get a glimpse of the fight from up close. “We didn’t really talk..” “But I saw you talking?” “I was talking to the ‘Medic’” you said making air quotes. “Oh..”

You walked over to a man with white hair wearing a shirt labeled ‘Manager’ leaving your overly excited friend on her own. “Excuse me? Do you happen to have a shirt I could borrow?” “Hmm..” he hummed as he tapped his index finger on his lip “I do have an extra one but…” “But?” “It’s his” Oh “It should be fine. He doesn’t ever wear it.” He turned around revealing the ‘Fushiguro’ on his back. He walked to his bag and came back with a shirt. “Here.” “Thank you.” “Please hurry, it looks like we’ll be needing you again soon.” You glanced back at the fight just as Fushiguro took a hit.

You took the shirt and went to the nearest bathroom. You changed out of your button-down blouse and into the one Fushiguro’s manager had gifted you. It was huge. It stopped just before your skirt ended and it was three times the width you were. You placed your shirt in your bag and then went back to the ring.

You stepped in as they were hydrating him. “Hello again Mr. Fushiguro,” He nodded, his eye starting to swell. After slipping into another pair of gloves, you grabbed an ice pack and slapped it in your hand to get it to activate. “Hold this here.” You said to the girl. She obliged and you began to tend to his bleeding shoulder. You grabbed the bottle of alcohol and a cotton round. “You might need to hold on to something for this one.” Just then, you felt his hands on your hips. A chill ran down your spine causing you to pause. They were so warm.

You let out a tremulous breath and resumed to tend to his wound. He tightened his grip when you applied the round. “Sorry.” You apologized. He just stared at you. “What’s your name?” He spoke finally. “(Y/N)” “(Y/N)..” he repeated back, almost dazed “That’s me.” You finished cleaning his wound and could now move on to patching it. Once you were done you moved out of the way—well, at least you tried but he kept you there, in place. “Mr. Fushiguro- I- the round is starting in 10 seconds.” You said, your tone incredulous “Find me after the fight.” “What?” “Gotta go.” He moved you out of the way and stood up.

You left the ring confused once again. You took the gloves off and decided to watch the rest from where you were standing. Fushiguro ended up winning causing an uproar in the arena. Stacey on the other hand hit it off with some journalist. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?” “Positive.” “Okay! See you tomorrow.” She walked away giddy. You tapped on a blonde man wearing a Fushiguro shirt. “Um- Excuse me?” He turned around “I was told to find Mr. Fushiguro after the fight?” He cocked his eyebrow while his eyes scanned your body. “By who?” “Mr. Fushiguro…” Just then the man with the white hair came out “Kento what the fuck? Why isn’t she halfway to Toji already?” The man shrugged. “C’mon,” the manager led you through the tunnels to where you assumed the fighter would be. “He’s right in there.” He said pointing at a room labeled ‘Fushiguro Toji’ “W-wait you’re not coming in?” “Oh no, I don’t bother him after fights.”

You cautiously walked over to the door and gave a light knock. “Move.” You heard from behind the door. “Hi..” you said when he opened the door. His face was smug “Hi.” He smirked. Your eyes traveled down his figure. He was lacking a shirt, revealing his sinewy abdomen. “Everybody out.” “But sir- we haven’t finished your trea-“ “She’ll handle it.” He opened the door wide enough for the nurses to leave while he leaned against the frame. They all gave you dirty looks as they made their way out. “You just gonna stand there?” He said walking back to his seat. You walked in and closed the door behind you. He cocked his eyebrow “So this is that kind of visit?” “W-what?! I-I didn’t know if y-you wanted privacy!” He laughed “I’m teasing.” You shook your head while he chuckled. A deep, sexy chuckle. One that made you tingle and throb in all the right places. “I knew that..” “Oh did you now?” “I did.” You said before walking over and grabbing the medical supplies.

Toji felt a chills where your fingers graced his back. “Y’know..most people are scared of me.” He said slightly looking back “You? No way” You said, sarcasm laced in your words as you applied ointment to a few of his wounds. “Your possy seemed to have no problems with you. I mean, they all looked pretty disappointed when they had to leave” “Tch yeah...no matter how many times I kick them out they never get used to it.” You laughed. Toji felt his heart flutter. You walked around to his front, moving his slightly sweaty hair out of the way to look at the scar you had patched earlier. “Everything looks good. Well, not good but you know.” Your eyes scanned his face, skillfully avoiding his eyes. “How’d you get that?” You pointed to the scar on his lip. “Accident.” You finally found his eyes. “..You are a vague man.” You felt your pockets. “Do you mind?” You asked, showing him your chapstick. “Only if you come back to my place.”

You froze and tried to read his expression but you couldn’t. You smiled “I don’t give it up that easily.” He grabbed your wrists and slightly pulled you forward. “You sure?” Yes “…no” he cracked a smile and you applied the chapstick. Dipping it slightly when you reach his scar. “Is that a yes?” “Only if you want it to be.” Your heart was beating so loud you were sure he could hear it. He stared at your lips and you sheepishly glanced at his.

He let your wrists go and your lips connected. You felt a burning heat erupt in the very pit of your stomach. You’ve kissed men before but never like this. You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck as you stood up straighter. You both pulled away at the same time. He swiped his tongue over his teeth before standing up. Your arms fell back at your side as he grabbed his shirt and slipped it over his head. He grabbed his bag and then your hand. It was so large in comparison that he completely encased it. “Mr. Fushiguro wher-“ “Toji.” “What?” “Call me Toji.” He said looking back at you. You were struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Toji.” “Yes?” “Where are we going?” “You’ll see.” You walked with him as he pulled you through the tunnels.

On your way there, more of his security started to surround you. When you finally made it out you entered an epileptic’s worst nightmare. You put your arm over your eyes to help shield them from the flashing lights. You felt Toji’s arm wrap around you as you pushed through the photographers.

You sighed when you finally reached the car. “Shit.” “It’s not over.” You watched as they migrated around the car. You finally pulled off and you were on your way. When you arrived, paparazzi swarmed the car once again. His security opened his door and he got out. He then helped you out of the car. As you walked, your hand slipped out of his and you began to drown in the sea of paparazzi. You fell and scraped one of your knees.

Toji stopped immediately after he no longer felt your hand in his. “Mr. Fushiguro! Mr. Fushiguro!” He pushed five reporters out of the way with one swing of his arm. Suddenly, you felt yourself being picked up, bridal style. “T-Toji I can walk.” “I’m not letting you get run over again.” He carried you into the lobby and to the elevator before setting you down. He opened the door to his penthouse when you got there and told you to sit on the couch “Yes sir.” You said throwing your hands up.

He disappeared into a room and when he reappeared he was holding a first aid kit. He set it on the couch as he knelt between your thighs. “Oh Toji you really don-“ he glanced up at you, causing your talking to cease. He cleaned it with an alcohol wipe and as he placed the bandaid on your knee, he looked up at you. “Thank you..”

He squeezed as his hand traveled further up your skirt. “Let me know if you want me to stop.” You nodded slowly. When he got to your panties he swiped his thumb across the wet spot. You shuddered and closed your eyes. “Aht aht. Look at me.” You opened them again to look into his. You felt him use his other hand to pull your panties to the side and open your legs wider. “What a pretty pussy…and so wet too.” He ran a finger through your folds and you tried to close your legs. He held them open and rubbed circles on your puffy clit. “Fuck..” you said, breathless.

He pulled at the hem of your lace panties before sliding them off. He placed them in his pocket before sliding his middle and ring fingers into his mouth. He went back to rubbing your clit as he slid a finger inside. A loud moan ripped through your throat. You placed a hand on his shoulder for stability. He slipped another finger in and curled them. You trembled. He stood up as he fingered you, placing a knee on the couch.

He began to kiss you, traveling down your neck with sloppy, wet kisses. Kisses that left you wanting more. Lewd squelching filled the room as his fingers fucked into you tirelessly. Suddenly, you felt your stomach tighten and your moaning became louder. You tried to speak but nothing came out. “Are you gonna cum? Hmm?” He hummed against your neck sending chills down your spine. He could tell by the way you were clamping down on him that your orgasm was near.

Chills ran down your entire body when he spoke to you. “You gonna cum on my fingers? Hm? Go ahead…make a mess for me.” “Tojii” you spoke finally. You let out a loud whine as you came around his fingers. “Good girl” he said as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

You watched through half lidded eyes as he slid his fingers out and placed them into his mouth. He sucked them clean and pulled them out with a ‘pop’. You felt yourself being picked up and carried. He laid you down on his bed, “I’m gonna go shower. Do not touch yourself until I get back.” You nodded “I need words.” “Yes daddy” You said, your voice feigning innocence. Toji felt his cock twitch. He walked away and to the bathroom. You writhed on the bed, more horny then you’ve ever been. About twenty minutes later Toji came out in just a towel.

You sat upright. You looked so small on his abnormally large bed. He walked over to you and you could feel the blush creeping up on you. The towel he wore didn’t cover much. He placed his fingers on your jaw and lifted your head to make sure you looked him in the eye. “There’s no turning back after I start.” He said with an expression that made you feral. You nodded. “Words.” “O-okay” he smiled. He leaned in and kissed you. It was deep and sexy. The way he grabbed your neck with his warm, calloused hand. The way he moved them across your body. Squishing the plush of your ass, stomach, and thighs as if he was memorizing every inch of you.

He started to kiss down your neck. You shuddered underneath him as you let him take full control. You felt his hands slide up your shirt as he kissed and licked around your collarbone. He unhooked your bra with ease and slid it off under your shirt. “Leave the shirt on.” He’s been wanting to fuck you in it since you first put it on. It was bunched up over your breasts. He sat back to admire you. “So pretty…” before you could be embarrassed, he ran his tongue over a nipple. You moaned as your hands found purchase in his short cut raven hair. He bit, pinched, and soothed with his tongue.

He guided you out of your skirt and licked his fingers. He slowly rubbed down your slit, smearing the cum from twenty minutes prior. Placing his hands on your knees, he pushed them towards your chest. He squeezed on your thighs before wrapping his arms around them and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He made his tongue flat and wide as he licked up your cunt. You shivered with a moan “fuckk”. You placed your hand in his hair and tried to push him away. Everything was so sensitive. Too sensitive. You felt him smirk against your pussy as he held you against him with more force. He was enjoying this as much—if not more than you were. He loved the way you smelled, the way you writhed under him with every touch, the way you sounded. Everything about you was sheer perfection in his eyes.

You whined as he hummed into you. Your legs shook as a thin layer of sweat started to coat your skin. “Toji..” “Hm?” He hummed. “I’m- ouu” you couldn’t get the words out. “What is it baby?” “I-I’m uh-gonna c-um” “mm cum on my tongue princess.” And almost as if on command, your orgasm washed over you.

Once again, he helped you ride it out. Lapping up your orgasm along the way. You panted as he backed away. Even through half-lidded eyes you could see the glistening of his chin from your juices. He wiped his mouth with his arm and then bent down to kiss you. The kiss was sloppy and allowed you to taste yourself. You moaned into it and that was his last straw. He pulled his towel off and threw it to the floor, allowing you to see a glimpse of exactly how big he was. You quivered when you felt him rub his tip through your folds. He kissed you again and you gasped when you felt him slowly sink into you.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you felt him stretch you. He kissed them as you dug your nails into his shoulders, creating little crescent moon impressions. “I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me baby.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you slightly relaxed. “That’s it, just r-relax” his hot breath fanned against your ear. He pushed his lips into your swollen ones. Swollen from how much abuse they had adhered from both you and him. He swallowed your whine as he pushed all the way in. “Shit s-so tight.” his voice broke as he almost bottomed out. He sat there for a moment letting you adjust to his size. After a few moments he felt your grip on his shoulder loosen a bit. “P-please move T-toji” he obliged and moved slowly at first, giving the pain a chance to cease.

The moans you released were like music to his ears. The way you tried to talk but ended up just babbling something that ended with his name. “Faster.” You managed to get out. He obliged once again. The room was filled with lewd slapping and squelching noises. He buried his head into your neck allowing you to smell his..vanilla shampoo?

“(Y/N) fuck- your pussy’s s-ucking me I-in so goood mm” he was practically whining. His words turned you on even more. “ouu” you moaned next to his ear. He backed away to sit up on his knees. He looked down to see the ring of white that sat at the base of his cock. Watching the way he completely disappeared inside of you. He moved his hand down to your clit and rubbed in slow circles as he fucked into you. Your moaning crescendoed and your legs shook. “Wait wait- ouu fuck wait.” You put your hand out in an attempt to get him to slow his strokes. He intertwined his fingers with yours as he continued to play with your sensitive nub. Tears graced your lashes as the shaking became more intense. “You gonna cum? Hm? Cum with me baby. Can you do that?” You were clamping down on him so good.

That familiar knot in your stomach was about to snap. He leaned into your neck anew. You bit down on his shoulder as you ran your nails down his back. “Tojii- ouu- mm I’m gonna- shit I’m gonna c-cum.” Your eyes rolled back and your vision went white when you came. Your entire body shook as his thrusts became sloppy. He whined as he pulled out and came on your stomach and shirt. He leaned his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath and came down from your high.

He peppered kisses all around your face as your body relaxed. “You did so good.” Was the last thing you really heard him say.

He went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up. He threw on a pair of boxers before coming back into the room. He cleaned your stomach and thighs with a warm towel making sure to be extra gentle. He pulled that shirt off of you and replaced it with the top to his green silk pajamas. You looked so cute in his large shirt. He then carried you to the bathroom and sat you down on the toilet. “(Y/N), wake up.” You opened your eyes to find a squatting Toji in front of you. From what you could make out, he had green pajama bottoms on with no shirt.

“What?” You were so cute. “You need to pee.” You nodded slowly. “Can you turn around?” You said, slurring the words together. He laughed. “(Y/N).” “Mhm?” “We just fucked.” “So? Nobody can pee with a six foot five man staring them down...” You said in protest. “Absolutely adorable…fine.” He turned around and you peed. When you were finished he helped you to the sink and then carried you back to bed. He covered you and then grabbed your clothes from earlier. He put them in the washing machine and cut all the lights off.

When he got in bed, you were facing away from him. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. He kissed the top of your head before slowly drifting to sleep with you.

@kazushawty

[melimatters]

Final Fantasy Write 2024: LEND ME YOUR EAR

LEND ME YOU EAR

Edmont de Fortemps entered the Forgotten Knight with nary a fanfare, just as he liked. It was late in the evening and the decks of cards would be out before long, that’s why he came on these nights, a time when he could just be a noble man, and not the nobleman he was expected to be at all others.

As he crossed the sparsely lit room he could see the Publican Gibrillont already pouring a mug of frothing ale just waiting for Edmonds arrival.

“Evenin.” Gibrillont said warmly as he pushed the mug over to Edmont. 

The elder Ellen man took a long smell of the ale “Something new?”

“Aye, it was brought back here in the latest shipment from Ul’dah, that little Lalafel woman in the pink sent it thinkin we might like it.”

Edmont took a look pull and let the deep amber liquid pour down his throat, it was different that the usual stuff that was served in Ishgard, this had a nuttier less bitter taste to it, he supposed it was to do with the different plants used to make it there.

“It’s lovely, definitely different than your usual brew.”

Gibrillont nodded slyly “That’s fer sure, apparently she says she can get it on the cheap for me, though I think if I stopped serving the regular stuff some of these gents would have me head on a lance end.”

“Then you are going to carry both?” Edmont asked quizzically, he couldn’t let such ambrosia get away.

“That’s the plan” Gibrillont said pouring himself his own mug “hopefully the new stuff catches on with the other regulars as well or it might prove to be a bit of a costly endeavor.”

 “Well if that ends up being the case I’ll take it off your hands, each and every barrel!”

The two men laughed heartily and clunked their mugs together and took deep pulls sighing contentedly.

“Now that not a face I expected to see here so late at night” a voice said huskily.

Edmont turned the direction of rhe voice and saw an olive skinned Miqo’te woman sitting at one of the tables, she had her usual long white jacket on, her staff leaned up against the table with care. 

“Mistress Y’shtola, pardon my rudeness I hadn’t seen you there.”

Y’shtola chuckled throatilly “First off, you needn’t be worried you missed me, you clearly had other things to attend to, and secondly don’t call me mistress this late at night and here of all places.”

“Then at least allow me to buy you a drink?” Edmont said his voice filled with mock apology “it would not be good if it got out that the former Count of House Fortemps had insulted a member of the Scions.”

“You are so dramatic Edmont, but I’ll never say no a dashing man like you.”

Edmont smiled broadly and signaled Gibrillont to get another mug and then went and sat down at the table next to the Miqo’te woman, he noticed there were already a pair of empty mugs on her table, apparently she had been enjoying a night out.

“So why brings you here tonight Edmont?”

“A chance to not be a nobleman, and cards.” Edmont smiled broadly “and you?”

Y’shtola’s white furred ears twitched, a sign Edmont had seen in his adopted granddaughter K’yla on more than one occasion when she was being evasive. 

“Nothing really, just thinking, and meeting someone for a drink or two.” Y’shtola said with ever so little quaver in her voice.

Edmont looked down at the already two empty mugs on the table “Seems you got started early, a bit of ale to calm your nerves?”

Y’shtola sat stiffy upright in her chair her ears angled back tensely, Edmont guessed if he could see behind the chair her tail would be lashing furiously “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Pardon me then for making assumptions, I will leave you then to your thoughts.”

As Edmont stood and turned to leave he felt a hand tug on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Would you…mind staying and lending me your ear for a couple?” Y’shtola said her voice sounding small and anxious.

Edmont turned and sat back down at the table, he had known Y’shtola for some time now and had never seen her like this before, she was always self assured and calm. Suddenly he had a thought of what might be going on and smiled internally, if it was what he thought it might be he was more than willing to listen and help.

“You know, I have always kept my distance from most people, even those I consider family, I never want to get complicated with emotions.” Y’shtola said timidly “It probably has something to do with how I was raised I suspect.”

“Interesting parents?”

“Edmont, I was essentially raised by a crazy sorceress who lives in a cave with animated brooms and frogs, my knowledge of relationships is a bit muddied.”

The Elezan man slapped himself internally, he had been told about Y’shtola growing up with. Master Matoya, that couldn’t have been easy, and not very sociable.

“Yes I can see how that would prove challenging.”

“I don’t like being remote.” Y’shtola continued her voice still anxious and small “But it’s been easier, don’t get tied down, no way to get hurt right? I should make clear I have had my fun, with companions before, be it in a bar such as this or between the sheets, but I never let it get to the point of connection emotionally.”

Edmont nodded, it was what he was thinking, and he was pretty sure about whom too.

“But recently I have been feeling…drawn to someone…And not just physically, but emotionally as well, it’s all so messy for me, and I don’t want to distract them from their duties, or me from mine as it were.”

“I am sure Melisande won’t get mad at you.” Edmont replied before he realized the words had come out of his mouth.

“Twelve! How did you? Have I been that obvious?” 

“Not at all, but based on what you said I felt it was a safe bet.” 

Y’shtola raced to regain her composure “I haven’t been like this before, I am a wreck, this isn’t me and I hate it.” The Miqo’te woman said annoyed “I mean, I don’t hate how I feel about her, but I hate how muddled it’s making me act.”

Edmont smiled and placed his hand on Y’shtola’s lower arm “Love can do some funny things to us can’t it?”

“I didn’t say I love her!” Y’shtola responded blushing, even with her olive skin it was clear as a noon day sun.

“You didn’t need to.“ Edmont chuckled lightly “It’s written all over you.”

“So what do I do with it?!” Y’shtola exclaimed as she turned around quickly to see if anyone else had heard her, if the other patrons had they weren’t showing it.

Edmont cleared his throat “live in it, find a way to tell her and let it go from there. Life’s to short to wonder what might have been, you don’t need to go through your whole life alone.”

“I’m scared.”

“And that’s a good thing.”

Y’shtola bristled at his response “And why is that?” She spat annoyedly.

“Because if you weren’t scared I would be asking if you truly love her.” Edmont responded gently “Fear like this means she means enough for you to be afraid to lose her, afraid what might happen if she doesn’t feel the same way. If that doesn’t say how much you love her I am not sure what does.”

“This is making a shocking amount of sense.” Y’shtola said flatly.

“I’m glad, now if you’ll excuse me, my friends are ready for cards, and YOU have a companion coming.”

-Fin-

[pawznacho]

Here are my personal opinions about the TGCF donghua S2 character designs!! (I don't have anything else to do with my life)

So, I've seen a lot of people hate on the new designs, especially on Qi Rong and Goushi Fang Xin's. I mean, they surprised me too, but I wouldn't necessarily say they are bad.

For Fang Xin (Xie Lian), his design and colors and stunning, it's just the mask that looked pretty weird to me, but I like how it's butterfly shaped. He's not too recognizable, so it'll do it.

For Qi Rong, yes, the colorful stripes, the purple lipstick, the little accesories, the neon green eyeliner are all absolutely needed and in character. Like, let's think about it, Qi Rong is probably one of the most chaotic and weird MXTX characters we could've met. The manhua version is a masterpiece, but the donghua is really...him. He would always comment on anybody and we also know that he is a born royalty, yet nobody said he's fancy or elegant. I'm pretty sure he'd have a terrible taste in outfits. While Xie Lian is elegant, simple and pretty restrained when it comes to outfits, our guy Qi Rong would have messy, greasy hair, unmatched clothes and jewellery, and absolutely zero sense in styling. He's technically an unintentionally funny, weird and stupid witch sitting in his own little cave with his "cheap son".

Now, let's take a look at Hua Cheng and Shi Qingxuan. Wake up, they are majestic!!

I adored Hua Cheng in his San Lang form. Our little guy looked absolutely adorable yet still like a grumpy teenage boy in love. His original form was also shown at the very end of S1, but honestly, his new design looks so much better. His hair got fluffier, and his features prettier. Also, I love how the edge of his eyepatch became more thin, it simply look cooler now!

Shu Qingxuan, my beloved, I literally love the whole design. I'm pretty sad the female version didn't get her pretty blue eyes, but she still looks as adorable as always. And the male version, it's perfect. He looks elegant, yet kind and adorable, like a true king/queen. Such a bestie material!!

Talking about Shi Qingxuan, Ming Yi is also just so so pretty. Altough I love the "dark 'n edgy Earth Master" vibe he gives off in the manhua, the dunghua version is (imo) better, we are talking about a god's apperance, after all. He's colorful, yet not too vibrant, which is pretty nice, most of the gods we can see there tend to dress colorfully in their own ways (it also makes it more visible that these people all come from different places, having their own traditional stuff).

And for Lan Qianqiu, he instantly became a Fengqing's kid in my eyes. For sure, this is not how I imagined him, I've got used to the dark hair and red accesories, but he looks really good, they did a great job with his design. No matter what, he'll always be a grumpy orange cat!

What do you think? 🦋

[maggie-004]

(Un-) Lucky coincidence - 3

Jenna Ortega x Fem reader

Summary: After helping Jenna Ortega, Y/N invites her to stay at her apartment when Jenna's hotel reservation is canceled. Jenna accepts the offer, and they bond over music and their shared vegetarian lifestyle while enjoying Chinese food and planning Jenna's stay in Austria for another 1 and a half weeks.

Words: 2155

“Oh, cool cool, I’m here with my car soo uhm do you need a ride?” I asked Jenna, trying to not freak out. “Uh yeah that would be great. Where do you even live, like do you have a house or-“, “What a house, you’re funny, no I have an apartment nearby. Houses here in Innsbruck are very expensive, if you wanna buy a house, that’s not the size of an shoe box you’ll have to pay at least 5 Million euro. Even to buy an apartment is really expensive. Mine costed around 500.000 euro.” I nearly cried out of laughing “Come on let’s go to my Car, and maybe close your mouth on the way there, Innsbruck is a very expensive city” I laughed at how shocked she was, it really is normal around here. “Yeah let’s go, sorry. I am really shocked right now your apartment is just a little less worth than our house in Coachella and my apartment in LA is way, WAY cheaper than yours” Jenna explained while we went to my car. “Oh really I thought America is more expensive than Austria.” I said while unlocking my car.

“apparently not, I really thought Austria would be very cheap, well I thought wrong. Oh is that your own car or is it your parents?” “No it’s my own, I love this car” I proudly said while getting in to my Ford mustang Mach-e. “Wow I thought you were a nursing student, by the way how old are you?” Jenna glanced at me while I connected my phone to the car.  “I’m 19 (feel free to put in your age) how old are you?” I asked Jenna. “Woah how do you have an own apartment, a car like that and your job at the age of 19? Oh yeah I’m 20 but I’m turning 21 this year” she said and smiled at me. “Oh you’re not old yourself, you know for what you’ve reached so far. Well I started to study at 16, I skipped a few classes and I wanted to move out from my old home so I started to save money and I do make money besides school so yeah that’s pretty much it.” I just explained when we drove off, I played some music and I could see from a side eye that Jenna was enjoying it. “wow so you are the youngest in your class, at least I suppose? And how do you manage to make money, well enough money for all that while still going to school. I know that my sister, Mia she is 2 years older than me, is now nearly done with nursing school and she barley has time to work a part time job and make enough money for anything like this. Oh yeah before I forget to ask, where do you find those remixes we’re listening right now” She asked me and started to get into the music even more. “Oh she’s a nurse as well? That’s so cool, but it’s true. When you’re in nursing school you don’t have enough time to make some Money, except you are lucky enough, like me, to make your money doing something you love, for me it’s DJing. I have my YouTube channel and I have now nearly 5.5 Million subscribers, that’s where you can find those remixes by the way. That’s how I make my money. I’ve never shown my face though so I live a normal life. I collaborated with one of my best friends I met online her name is Antonia aka. RevedTV, I really got a lot of subs from her community. All in all I’m just lucky” I explained smiling because that really is just luck and it’s so cool to receive so much good karma. “Okay, wow yeah I don’t really know what to say here, I’m flabbergasted. Congrats on that and you got to tell me your artist name, I really want to listen to more of your remixes.” Jenna said, and to be honest that made me so proud of myself because everyone knows that Jenna is addicted to music and that she has a certain taste of music, I think she has a really good taste in music, but I got ripped out of because we were already pulling up to my garage.

“Thank you” I just realized that Jenna was talking to me earlier, I kind of zoned out, I still got to tell her about my ADHD otherwise she might thinks I’m rude. “Sorry for not talking to you sooner, I kind of zoned out, you know I have ADHD just wanted to clarify so I don’t come off rude. Sorry”. “Don’t be sorry, that’s ok you don’t seem rude, I know how it feels to zone out, happens way to often to me too” She just giggled at me. “Oh thank god you can relate to the zoning out, hey believe it or not some people don’t zone out at all. It really shocked me to learn about that” I explained living through the exact same feeling as I did when I first learned about that. “Yeah no way, you’re kidding right?” she asked me “Nope. I’m not kidding I swear”. “Wow second time you made me speechless today, just for your information, normally that doesn’t happen to me and certainly not twice”, “ Okay and what exactly does that mean?” I asked her while we got in the elevator I live on the 3rd and 4th. I jokingly started to tease her “Do I make you nervous … nahh just kidding” I laughed and I’m not sure but I think Jenna blushed a little but maybe it’s just my imagination. We arrived at third floor and I unlocked the door, holding it open for Jenna “Milady, after you” “Thank you”. “You can keep your shoes on or how ever you like, feel comfortable, do you want a little tour so you see how we Austrians live” I asked her. “Yeah sure I’d love to” she said while she took off her shoes. “ Okay first room to your right is my guests bath, next to it the guests  room and a little storage room” “Mhm oh the furniture is soo cool” Jenna said. “Then you should wait until you see my room, anyways around that corner is my kitchen and the eating era, come on.” “Woah I definitely wasn’t  expecting an all-black kitchen it’s so cool and so big. Y/N you have a really nice furnishing style, I love it here.” Jenna said. “Thank you so much yeah I really took my time because I want to feel at home here so no compromises with anyone, you won’t believe me how many people said ´oh no black kitchen… don’t do this… don’t do that- bla bla bla` but as already said no compromises. Okay come on we have another floor to look at” I just said. “Another one? Wow cool you really hyped me for your room.” “Okay then come on, soo here is my bathroom, I really needed that freestanding bathtub and again a lot of black elements I love it looks so  fancy. Next to my bathroom I have my laundry room nothing special in here. But now my second favorite room, my studio. Here happens all my ´Musical magic´” Jenna looked stunned at me and I just had to laugh at her face and about myself, calling myself magical. “Well I guess we make it a third time that I don’t know what to say wow, this is all so cool, amazing is that your DJing controller?” Jenna asked me. “Yeah it is if you want I can show you a few things on it later” I suggested. “I’d love to, maybe you can teach me a little bit” she smiled like a little child when I nodded at her request. “Okay now come ooonnn I am so hyped to show you my room, I really love it so let’s gooooo.” “Oh my god you’re hyping me up so much don’t hype me anymore I don’t think I could that you know… emotionally” Jenna laughed.

“Well then we’ll make it short and painless. Here take a look.” I said with the biggest grin on my face, because I know we can add another speechless Jenna moment to our list. My room is the biggest of all my rooms, it has 2 black Walls on which my Californian King sized Bed is, also it’s slightly higher than everything else because it’s build on this platform thing, where I have two huge drawers, I know I don’t need bed this big alone but I really fell in love with it, I think its needless to say that I wouldn’t spent so much money on a bed I don’t need, but I got it as a gift from one of my advertising partners. I also have a lot of plants and little decoration things, Pictures and a few fan gifts, a big ass aquarium, way too big tv, but again it was a gift, my beloved Book shelf, next to it a tiny two person couch and a desk for schoolwork and editing. But now my favorite part, my walk-in closet. “So Jenna what do you think” I grinned. “Wow this room is amazing, how long did you spent to make it look like that, and that bed oh my god can I sit on it, it looks sooo comfortable” Jenna said. “Yea you can also lay in it if you want, it was a gift from my advertising partners. I think I’ve spent one and a half months on this room, but only because I didn’t accept any help in this room, I really wanted it like I imagined. So I build that platform for my bed myself and lowered the ceiling for the LED’s.” I explained “How’s the bed?” I laughed at how tiny Jenna looked in it. “It’s amazing but I am a little scared that I’ll get lost in it.” We both started to laugh like crazy. My stomach started to hurt out of laughter I threw myself on my bed next to Jenna and tried to calm down. Needless to say we pushed each other even more and only after 10 minutes we started to calm down. “Uhg now my stomach hurts, Jenna do you still want to drink a coffee” I asked her still giggling. “Yeah sure, can you help me up” “sure her you go, we gotta go downstairs for coffee, or are you hungry?” I asked Jenna now. “Well yeah are you?” she asked. “I am so hungry right now, do you wanna order something or should I cook?”, “Uh we can order something and I pay for it you know as a thank you” Jenna suggested. “Oh Jenna you really don’t have to that’s fine you’re my guest so please let me- “ Jenna interrupted me “Yeah and you helped me when no one did so please I insist.” “Okay thank you” I gave up I didn’t stood a chance. “What should we order?” I asked Jenna. “Well I’m currently chancing my diet for Romania so something vegetarian, do you like Chinese?”, “Oh I love Chinese food and btw I’m vegetarian too, had to change from vegan to vegetarian because of the nutritious, kind of sucks” I explained to Jenna whom nodded at what I was saying. “oh my god same, I was so devastated when I found out I had to change that.” We both ordered some spring rolls and those lobster chips the white ones. “So should we look for places you could stay, or do you maybe wanna stay here, I mean only if you want to and feel safe and everything” I offered her, not really knowing what she’d say and hoping to not scare her away. We sat in my 2nd floor and before she could answer the doorbell rang. So I had to run down and get the food. “Hey Jenna do you wanna eat in the living room or down here?” I yelled up. “ Uhm however you want” she yelled back. So I got everything we need form the kitchen and got back up. “ I think it’s more comfortable if we stay here. Well about my offer-“ Jenn a cut right in “Uhm I’d love to but only if you’re really fine with that.” Oh my god, I think my heart is about to stop. Jenna really is going to stay at my place. “Yeah totally I can set up the guest room, you can stay as long as you want. I really mean it. How long are you staying in Austria anyways?” I asked her. “for another 1 and a half weeks, we are going to start promoting Wednesday, so the rest of the Wednesday cast comes here tomorrow, and thank you for everything”

A/N: Wow these are getting longer, fyi English is not my first language. Still hope you like it :)

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @cassieuncaged, @onedirectionlovers2014

warnings: swearing

“a winter formal?” Cassie asked. Eve nodded. “What’s a winter formal?” She looked around at us. Jenkins furrowed his eyebrows. “Brain grape…” she trailed off while waving towards her head.

“it’s like a prom. For college kids. Or corporations.” Jake jumped in. “A big dance. Usually right before the break for winter holidays.”

“Or after. If you were my college.” I said. Cassie nodded.

“oh.” She whispered. I rubbed her arm as Jenkins looked at me. “Sounds fun.”

“if you go with the right person.” Eve said, eyes downcast. I nodded in agreement.

“damn. Yall really had shitty lives before this didn’t ya?” Jake said, frowning at us.

“nah. Just shitty taste in partners.” I said. Jenkins stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. I leaned back against him with a smile. “Present company excluded.”

“well there isn’t any harm in going.” Ezekiel said as he moved away. “Although we’re all going to need to dress up.” Cassie turned to look at me and eve. I shrugged and looked at eve.

“dress shopping?” Eve asked. Cassie nodded excitedly. “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?” I laughed and turned to kiss Jenkins goodbye.

“because you always regret taking us out in public.” I joked. Jenkins set up a door for us and I nodded at him in thanks. Linking arms with Cassie, we headed out of the annex. “I have something here anyway but I think it’s time we got you some more nice things Cassie.” She nodded with a big smile on her face. “It’ll be a night to remember.” Eve trailed behind us and immediately went to look at the most expensive dresses at the store.

“do I need…” Cassie started as she watched Eve. “One of those?” She stared at me wide eyed.

“no. You can get whatever dress you want. Cheap or expensive if it makes you feel good and you look good in it then that’s the dress for you.” I smiled softly at her. Leaning closer, I nodded at Eve conspiratorially. “Eve just has really expensive tastes.” Cassie giggled and I sent her off to find something she liked.

“How are you getting Jenkins to go with?” Eve asked as she sat down next to me, dress folded over her lap.

“who said I was going to ask him to come with?” I shot back. Eve gave me a look. “Alright. Alright. I don’t actually have an idea. I thought I would just ask him.”

“it’s Jenkins.” Eve said. “He never leaves that Annex. Not unless it benefits him.” I looked over to where Cassie was exploring the dresses. I got up and sighed.

"He leaves the Annex Eve. You've seen it happen." I said before walking over to Cassie. "How's it going?" She looked at me with wide eyes. "Yeah. It's a lot to take in. Find anything you like?"

"I found too many that I like." She said sadly. I looked at her. "What?"

"You do realize that this won't be the last time we need to dress fancy right? You can get more than just the one dress." I said carefully. Cassie looked at me before jumping up and down. She threw herself at me in a hug. I stumbled back as I wrapped my arms around her.

"Oh thank you thank you thank you." She whispered. I rubbed her back and gently pushed her off me.

"It's on the library's tab so go all out. Get whatever you want." I said before Cassie took off to grab all the dresses she had liked. I watched as she ran off to try them on. Eve smiled at me before jerking her head to the dressing rooms. Jenkins stood off to the side, frowning at the expensive dresses that were sitting right next to him. "Hey." I breathed out as I walked over. Jenkins smiled at me as his attention was drawn away from the dresses.

"Hey yourself." He said back. I smiled at him and he took my hand before I led him over to the suit department. "Need a new tie?" I nodded.

"Yeah. Thought I might as well match Cassie. She's going to need someone to stay by her side so she doesn't run off and get into some trouble." I said offhandedly. Jenkins nodded as he looked through the bow ties that were on display. "Figured since I didn't have anyone to come with me I would take the job." Jenkins looked over at me as I picked up a tie.

"What makes you think you're going on your own?" He asked. I paused to look at him, confusion gracing my features. "Who said I wasn't going to go?" I shrugged as I put the tie down and moved to stand next to him.

"You hardly ever leave the Annex. And when you do..." I shrugged again and watched as Jenkins took my hand in his. "Well it isn't for things like this." Jenkins nodded.

"That was before I started dating you." He said softly, looking up at me from our joined hands. "I didn't have reasons to leave the library. Now I do." He squeezed my hand and brought it up to kiss the back of it. "Would you go to the winter formal with me (Y/N)?" Jenkins asked. I looked over at him and smiled.

"Yeah." I breathed out. "I'll go with you." Jenkins smiled at me before leaning over to kiss me. I cupped his cheek and broke away. "Need a new suit?" Jenkins shook his head. "Ok. I still want a new tie though." I went back to searching for the right tie as Jenkins watched me. When we all went to check out, Jenkins had deposited a new bowtie next to my tie. I smiled at him as he tugged me closer before paying. The four of us headed back through the door and split off to get ready for the winter formal. Jenkins came over and straightened my tie as I stood in front of the mirror. I looked at him over my shoulder and smiled.

“how is it you always manage to get your tie crooked?” He asked. I shrugged. “There.” Jenkins smoothed down my tie.

“how do I look?” I asked. Jenkins smiled and leaned down to kiss me. “Must look pretty damn good if that’s your response.” Jenkins chuckled and I reached over to fox his matching bow tie. “You look really good.” Taking his arm, we headed out into the annex. Flynn stood with Eve on his arm and Jake stood next to Cassie.

“jones opted out.” Jake said. “Flynn offered…” I nodded and smiled at Cassie.

“you all look good.” I said. Nodding to Jenkins, he set the dial for the winter formal. The two of us waited until everyone was through before heading through ourselves. “Ready for this?” Jenkins chuckled.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He said. Squeezing his arm, I pulled him through the door. We appeared in the gymnasium and immediately noticed that everyone had everything covered. “Would you care to dance?” Jenkins asked, smiling over at me. I smiled back and took his hand.

“that sounds wonderful actually.” I said as I let Jenkins pull me onto the dance floor.

[gravity-falls-dreamer]

Gravity Falls: Dreamer Chapter 15: The Bar Scheme

Evalin was standing by the couch, half-listening to Stan as he rambled on about his next “big break” with a sense of urgency. He turned to her, a grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, Evalin, wanna make a few bucks with me at the Rusty Nail tonight?”

She tilted her head, brow furrowed. “What would we be doing?”

Stan chuckled. “Nothin’ dangerous. Just a little poker. We go in, make some quick cash, and get out. Easy-peasy. Only thing is…” He leaned closer, eyes glinting conspiratorially. “I need a bit of extra help, if you catch my drift. You’d be my Lady Luck.”

Evalin blinked, entirely blank. “Lady Luck?”

Stan rolled his eyes, stifling a laugh. “Yeah, y’know, sprinkle some of that magic mumbo jumbo you’ve got on me. Turn the cards in my favor so we win big.” He paused, looking her over with an appreciative smile. “Plus, the guys get a little... distracted by some, uh, eye candy like you.”

She frowned, visibly confused. “Eye candy?” Her lips formed the words like she was tasting them, her face scrunching in uncertainty. “What… is that?”

Stan barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “It means you’re… easy on the eyes. Pretty.” He shot her a wink, grinning wide. “You’re a distraction, and we’re gonna use that to rake in a mountain of cash.”

Evalin’s face warmed, and she looked down quickly, pressing her lips together. Pretty? It felt strange, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. She wasn’t used to people noticing her that way, and the thought of being some sort of… visual aid was odd. “Oh, well, I… guess I can try?” She felt herself start to smile back, tentatively.

“That’s the spirit!” Stan declared. “Just look mysterious and lean on my shoulder, all casual-like. And if I look like I’m struggling, a little extra magic nudge wouldn’t hurt.”

They both started toward the door when Ford, coming up from the basement, caught their eye. He gave them a nod, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, though his tone was light.

“Just a quick trip to the bar,” Stan said casually. “Gotta teach princess here how to have a little fun.”

Evalin smiled, though she shot a nervous glance at Ford. She didn’t want him to know about the plan to use her magic for cheating, knowing he wouldn’t approve. “It’ll just be for a little while,” she added.

Ford gave a small nod. “Alright, just try to keep things under control, especially you, Stanley,” he said with a hint of a grin. Then, he leaned toward Evalin. “And make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

Evalin returned his smile, though her heart fluttered slightly. “I’ll try my best, Stanford.”

With a laugh, Stan took her by the arm, steering her toward the door. “Alright, Lady Luck, let’s make some magic happen.”

Stan pulled up to the Rusty Nail, a weathered little building nestled on the corner of Main Street. Neon beer signs glowed in the windows, their flickering lights giving the place an oddly cozy glow against the dusk. Inside, the faint sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of classic rock spilled out onto the street as patrons opened and closed the door. A handmade sign announced cheap wings and two-for-one drink specials, drawing in locals who, like Stan, were regulars looking for a good time and a little distraction from the quiet hum of small-town life.

Evalin’s nerves prickled as she stepped out of the car, glancing around the unfamiliar setting. Her mind raced with doubt. Could I really help Stan here, with my magic of all things? But she could feel Stan’s confidence, an almost contagious energy, as he held out his arm for her to take, and she felt a surge of determination. She’d show him that her magic wasn’t something to fear.

As they entered, heads turned their way. The regulars whistled and raised their glasses, tossing out comments as they eyed Evalin on Stan’s arm. “Look at you, Stan! Dirty dog,” one called out with a chuckle.

Stan shrugged, waving a dismissive hand but smirking. “Eh, just a little charm, fellas. No need to be jealous.”

They found an open table, and as they sat, Evalin instinctively kept her hand on Stan’s shoulder, feeling a sense of grounding in the chaos. The warmth of his steady presence steadied her nerves, and she could feel him relax too, leaning a little into her touch. All part of the plan, she reminded herself, though her heart raced.

Stan wasted no time, knocking back a drink and offering her one as well. She shook her head, leaning in close to whisper, “Drinking would make the magic tricky. Can’t risk it, right?”

Stan laughed, nodding. “Smart girl. Alright, Lady Luck, let’s do this.”

The game began, the table’s chatter and laughter almost drowning out the clinking of chips and shuffling of cards. Evalin closed her eyes briefly, and the world around her shifted. The noise of the bar faded to a distant hum, replaced by an almost eerie stillness. She could see them now—threads of fate, glinting like strands of a spider’s web stretched taut across the table. Each thread seemed to tug at her fingers, as if an unseen force was pulling her to act. The threads shimmered faintly, connecting the cards, the players, and even her and Stan in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend.

Each thread vibrated with potential, a silent symphony of choices and consequences. Her breath hitched as her fingers brushed Stan’s arm, grounding her. Instinctively, she reached out, her mind brushing against the delicate strands. It was like playing an instrument she had never been taught, yet the movements came naturally, as if buried deep in her memory. A gentle tug here, a shift there—Evalin's finger twitched subtly, as though pinching a thread between it and the cards. Occasionally, when Stan felt like he needed an extra boost, he would reach up and touch her hand on his shoulder, his silent signal for help. The threads quivered under her unseen grasp, bending the flow of luck and aligning the cards in Stan’s favor.

But with every adjustment, she felt it—a faint, almost imperceptible weight pressing down on her chest. It was subtle but undeniable, like sand slipping through her fingers. Another moment lost. Another second of her life given to the threads.

Evalin’s lips pressed into a thin line. The cost didn’t matter. It never had. She’d never been one to dwell on the future. What was a second here or there, compared to the satisfaction of helping someone who trusted her? She opened her eyes, the shimmering web fading back into the edges of her vision as Stan slapped his cards onto the table with a triumphant laugh.

“That’s my girl,” he said, raking in another pile of chips. His confidence was infectious, and Evalin couldn’t help but smile back, even as the lingering sensation of the threads tugged at the edges of her mind.

Stan’s confidence grew as the game continued. He was getting bolder now, his cocky grin widening as his pile of chips steadily grew. He wrapped an arm around Evalin’s waist, pulling her closer, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. To everyone else, it was a display of camaraderie, the gambler reveling in his luck with his so-called Lady Luck. But to Evalin, it felt like part of the act, and she leaned into it effortlessly.

Evalin found herself relaxing, letting the thrill of the moment wash over her. The laughter of the other players and the playful ribbing directed at Stan barely registered. She felt like she was playing a role, one she was quickly growing into. Each time she adjusted the threads, Stan’s confidence surged, and when he felt the pressure rising, his fingers would briefly tap hers on his shoulder, a wordless cue she had come to recognize. Evalin leaned into him more, her hand brushing his shoulder or resting lightly on his arm. It felt natural, seamless, and exhilarating.

“Hey, Stan, don’t hog all the luck,” one of the players teased, laughing as he tossed his cards onto the table. “You gonna share some of that, or what?”

“Sorry, boys,” Stan said with a wink, tightening his arm around Evalin’s waist. “Lady Luck’s all mine tonight.”

Evalin couldn’t help but smile at the way he said it, his voice light and teasing. She was enjoying the thrill of it all, the rush of being part of something that felt bigger than herself. She wasn’t just hiding her magic. She was using it to help someone who trusted her, and Stan’s easy, unwavering confidence kept her smiling.

For a moment, she forgot about the threads, the cost, and the faint unease that lingered at the edges of her mind. But the calm didn’t last.

Jack, a grizzled man with a deep scowl, leaned forward, his eyes narrowing at Stan. “You’re on a roll tonight, Stan,” he said, his voice sharp with suspicion. “Too good a roll. What’s your secret, huh?”

Stan chuckled, feigning nonchalance as he leaned back in his chair. “What can I say? Lady Luck’s been kind tonight.” He gestured to Evalin with a cocky grin. “Can’t help it with a charm like this by my side.”

The man wasn’t buying it. He pointed a finger at Evalin, his lips curling into a sneer. “Or maybe you’re runnin’ some kinda scam with her. What’s she really doing here?”

Evalin stiffened, her heart pounding as all eyes turned to her. Stan’s easy grin faltered for a split second before he leaned forward, his voice turning cool. “You accusing me of cheating, Jack?”

“I’m just saying,” Jack shot back, “it’s mighty strange how lucky you’ve been. Maybe we oughta shuffle things up a bit or check you both for tricks.”

The tension at the table crackled like static. Evalin’s mind raced. If they searched Stan, they’d find nothing, but if they pressed her, they might start asking questions she couldn’t answer. Think, Evalin. You’ve got to fix this.

Before anyone could act, Evalin straightened, placing a steady hand on Stan’s shoulder. She leaned forward, her voice soft but commanding, weaving subtle magic into her words. “Now, Jack,” she said, her tone melodic and even, “you’ve had a long night. You don’t want to start accusing people without proof, do you?”

The man blinked, his scowl wavering. “I… don’t?”

“No,” Evalin continued, her voice growing warmer, more soothing. “You’re tired, and you’re probably just frustrated because the cards didn’t fall your way tonight. Happens to everyone. Why don’t you let this go and enjoy another drink? No harm, no foul.”

Jack’s shoulders sagged slightly, the tension in his face softening. “Yeah… maybe I’m just tired,” he mumbled, sitting back in his chair. “No harm, no foul.”

Stan shot Evalin a quick, sharp glance, his brow furrowing slightly as he caught the strange lilt in her tone. But he didn’t say anything, instead taking the opportunity to gather the cards. “Alright, boys, let’s keep this friendly. No need for anyone to get their feathers ruffled.”

The table murmured in agreement, the tension dissolving as the game resumed. But Evalin could feel Stan’s gaze lingering on her, his curiosity piqued.

After a particularly lucky hand, Stan pushed back his chair, stretching with exaggerated ease. “Alright, boys,” he drawled, slapping the table with one hand, “I’ll get us another round. Lady Luck, you’re comin’ with me.”

Evalin blinked, startled by the sudden invitation. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Stan said with a wink. “C’mon, can’t leave my lucky charm behind, can I?”

The others chuckled, distracted by their cards and chips, as Stan nudged Evalin toward the bar. The moment they were out of earshot, his grin faded, and his voice dropped to a quieter tone. “Alright, spill it, Evi. What happened back there with Jack?”

Evalin tensed, glancing around the crowded bar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” Stan leaned on the counter, signaling to the bartender for another round. “Look, I’ve been in plenty of games, and I’ve seen plenty of cheats: cards up sleeves, mirrors, you name it. But whatever you did, it wasn’t any of that. So… what was it?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. How much should I tell him? The thought of revealing the truth made her stomach twist. “I just… talked to him. That’s all.”

Stan raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. “Talked to him? Guy was about to frisk me for tricks, and you just talked him down? What are you, some kinda Jedi?”

Evalin laughed nervously, shaking her head. “I told you. It’s just instincts. People don’t like being called out unless they’re absolutely sure they’re right. I made him doubt himself, that’s all.”

Stan studied her for a long moment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “Hmm. Instincts, huh?”

She forced a smile, trying to hold his gaze. “Yep. Pure instinct.”

The bartender slid four beers across the counter, two for each of them. Stan grabbed two with ease, his expression softening into his usual cocky smirk. “Alright, I’ll let it slide... for now. But you’re full of surprises, princess. Just don’t go getting me into trouble, alright?”

Evalin’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though the tension in her chest lingered. “I’ll try not to.”

Stan winked, nudging her with an elbow. “Good. Let’s get back before they start missin’ us.”

Evalin picked up two of the beers from the counter, balancing them carefully in her hands. She wasn’t planning to drink, but she thought it might help keep the act convincing. Stan grabbed the other two with ease, giving her a quick grin.

“Look at you, pullin’ your weight,” he teased.

Evalin smirked, her confidence bolstered by the lighthearted banter. “Just trying to keep up with you, Stanley.”

They walked back to the table together, the noise of the bar growing louder as they approached. Evalin set the beers down with a quiet smile, feeling a small thrill at the way the other players barely noticed, too engrossed in their cards and conversation.

After a moment, Evalin leaned toward Stan. “I’m going to use the bathroom real quick,” she said softly, brushing her hand lightly against his shoulder.

Stan glanced up, his grin easy but his eyes sharp with curiosity. “Don’t take too long, Lady Luck. They might start thinkin’ you’re skippin’ out with the winnings.”

Evalin laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, slipping away toward the dimly lit hallway leading to the restrooms.

Evalin leaned over the sink in the dimly lit restroom, splashing cool water on her face. The mirror above was cracked in one corner, distorting her reflection just enough to make her feel even more out of place. But as she stared at herself, she realized something unexpected: this night was going better than I thought.

She’d actually enjoyed herself at the table, slipping into the role of Lady Luck with surprising ease. Pretending to be confident, mysterious; it had been like a game, a performance. She didn’t have to be Evalin the awkward outsider. She could be someone else, someone charming.

The thought brought a faint smile to her lips, even as nerves fluttered in her chest. It was nice to pretend, to step out of her skin for a while. If only she could hold on to that feeling a little longer.

Evalin stepped out of the bathroom, her nerves steadier after taking a moment to herself. The lively hum of the bar greeted her, the blend of music, laughter, and clinking glasses creating a strangely comforting backdrop. Just get back to the table, she told herself. Stanley’s waiting. Lady Luck can’t leave him hanging.

She turned the corner into the main hallway and nearly stumbled into a man leaning heavily against the wall. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his shirt rumpled and his eyes bloodshot. The sharp tang of stale beer hit her immediately as he swayed slightly, blinking down at her.

“Well, hey there, sweetheart,” he slurred, his words dragging as his lips curled into a lazy grin. “Where you runnin’ off to?”

Evalin froze. “I, um… back to my table,” she stammered, her voice barely audible. She took a small step back, trying to put distance between them.

The man chuckled, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer. “Aw, don’t be shy. No need to rush off. Stay a minute.”

Her chest tightened, her mind stuttering. Not part of the plan. The easy confidence she’d worn at the poker table vanished, leaving her fumbling for words. “I-I really need to go.”

“C’mon now,” the man said, his tone low and coaxing. “No need to be like that. We’re just talkin’.” His hand reached out, heavy and unsteady, and landed on her arm.

Evalin’s heart raced, and her thoughts scattered. She tried to tug her arm free, but his grip wasn’t budging. Panic bubbled up in her chest, and her fingers instinctively reached for her hat, fiddling with the brim as if it might anchor her.

The man’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the movement. “What’s this?” he said with a drunken laugh, his free hand gesturing toward her hat. “Hidin’ somethin’ under there?” He leaned in, his breath sour. “C’mon, lemme see what you got.”

Evalin’s fingers tightened on the brim, her mind spinning in circles. No, no, no. The noise of the bar blurred into a disorienting hum, and her magic flickered faintly at the edges of her mind, too weak to grasp. “Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Don’t.”

The man grinned wider, his hand darting toward her hat. “Don’t be like that. Just wanna—”

His sentence cut off sharply as a strong hand clamped down on his wrist.

“Don’t you dare touch her.”

The voice was low and sharp, filled with barely restrained fury. Evalin’s head whipped up, relief flooding her chest as she saw Stan standing there, his expression dark and dangerous.

The man flinched, his grin faltering as he turned to face Stan. “Who the hell’re you?” he muttered, trying to yank his hand free.

“I’m the guy who’s gonna break that hand if you don’t back off,” Stan growled, his grip tightening. He stepped forward, forcing the man to stumble back, his other arm moving to shield Evalin. “Get lost.”

The man sneered, but the look in Stan’s eyes made him think twice. He muttered something under his breath and released Evalin’s arm, stumbling away into the crowd.

Stan didn’t move until the man was out of sight, his shoulders tense and his jaw tight. Then he turned to Evalin, his expression softening immediately. “You okay?”

Evalin nodded shakily, though her hands were trembling as they fiddled with her hat. “I… I didn’t know what to do,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” Stan said, his tone gentle now. He reached out and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “It’s alright. Some people are just jerks. Ain’t your fault. But listen, you don’t have to worry about stuff like this when I’m around. I got your back, okay?”

Evalin managed a faint smile, her chest still tight. “Let’s get back to the table.”

Stan nodded, stepping aside to let her lead the way. As they walked back, Evalin found herself still fiddling with her hat, her fingers brushing the brim nervously, as if it were her lifeline. But then Stan placed a hand gently at the small of her back, his touch warm and steady as he guided her through the crowd toward the table. The gesture wasn’t pushy or overbearing—it was simply grounding, like an unspoken assurance that she wasn’t alone. Her fingers froze mid-motion, and then, as if releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she let her hands fall away from the hat entirely.

Stan noticed the change immediately. Something shifted in him as he saw her relax under his guidance, her trust in him as tangible as the light pressure of his hand. It wasn’t forced or part of the act anymore. She was actually trusting him. The realization struck him with quiet force, a jolt that left his chest feeling unexpectedly tight. For the first time, he noticed more than just her role as his so-called Lady Luck. He noticed her—the way her presence felt steadying, the way she made him want to do right by her.

It wasn’t just her playing a part. It wasn’t just him running a scheme. And that thought stayed with him long after they reached the table. The poker game went on for another few rounds, but Stan’s confidence never wavered. Evalin stayed close by his side, her nerves still frayed from the encounter in the hallway, but she managed a small, relieved smile every time Stan threw her a wink or a cocky grin.

Finally, after landing another impressive hand—a Royal Flush—Stan leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. “Alright, boys,” he said, stacking his chips neatly, “I think it’s time to call it. Don’t want to clean you out too much.”

The other players groaned and ribbed him good-naturedly as he started gathering his winnings. Jack, who had accused him earlier, muttered something under his breath, but Evalin noticed he avoided looking directly at her or at Stan. Maybe her earlier intervention had done more to shake him than she realized.

Stan handed his chips to the bartender to cash out, glancing over his shoulder at Evalin with a grin. “Not bad for a night’s work, huh?”

Evalin managed a smile. “Not bad at all.”

The bartender returned with a wad of bills, which Stan stuffed into his jacket pocket with an exaggerated flourish. “And with that,” he said, pushing back his chair, “the show’s over. Let’s blow this joint, Lady Luck.”

Evalin followed him toward the door, her body still tense from the night’s events, but the fresh air outside hit her like a wave of relief. The bar’s neon lights cast a faint glow on the empty parking lot as they walked toward Stan’s car, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet the only sound.

Stan glanced at her, his grin softening as he noticed her quietness. “You good?” he asked, his tone light but genuinely concerned.

Evalin nodded, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Yeah. Just… a lot happened tonight.”

“Yeah,” Stan said with a chuckle, digging his keys out of his pocket. “Hell of a night. You were somethin’ else in there, you know. The way you played along, leaned into the whole ‘Lady Luck’ thing? It was like you were born for it.”

Evalin smiled faintly, her gaze drifting up to the stars above. “It was fun,” she admitted. “Pretending to be someone else for a while.”

Stan tilted his head, studying her. “Pretending, huh? Didn’t feel like pretendin’ to me. You lit up the whole room, Evi. Had everyone hangin’ on your every word.”

Her cheeks warmed at the compliment, and she ducked her head. “It’s different when it’s… planned. Controlled. But when things go off-script, like with that guy…” She trailed off, her fingers tightening their grip on her arms. “I just… froze.”

Stan stopped walking, turning to face her. “Hey.” His voice was soft, but firm enough to make her look up at him. “You don’t gotta beat yourself up about that. Not everyone’s good at dealin’ with creeps. Hell, even I’m not great at it—mostly just yell louder than they do.” He offered her a crooked grin. “And you know what? You don’t have to be great at it. That’s why you got me, right?”

Evalin blinked, his words sinking in, and after a moment, she let out a soft laugh. “I guess I do.”

“Damn right you do.” He gave her shoulder a gentle nudge before leading her to the car. “And don’t think I forgot about this.” He pulled a crumpled bill from his pocket and held it out to her. “Your cut, Lucky Charm.”

She stared at the bill, then shook her head with a small smile. “No. You being my hero tonight was all the payment I needed.”

Stan raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased but trying to play it cool. “Hero, huh? Keep callin’ me that, and I might start thinkin’ I’m a good guy or somethin’.” “Thank you, Hero,” Evalin replied, playing along as she slid into the passenger seat.

Stan jogged around to the driver’s side of the car, his heart unexpectedly light, as though the night’s success had settled into something more personal. As he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, he glanced over at Evalin, who leaned her head against the window with a faint smirk playing on her lips. The sight made him grin, and he tapped his fingers on the wheel in rhythm with the song drifting from the radio.

Evalin’s quiet hum joined the music, her voice soft and natural, and Stan’s grin widened. She looked so content, so at ease for the first time all night. He didn’t fully understand why it hit him so hard, but there was something undeniably endearing about her in that moment. Adorable, even.

What’s wrong with me? he thought, shaking his head slightly. But he didn’t push the thought away entirely. Evalin wasn’t just a part of tonight’s plan anymore. Somewhere between her smirk at the table and the way her voice softened into that quiet hum, she’d slipped under his skin. He wasn’t against it—not at all. If anything, the feeling of warmth in his chest was strangely welcome, a flutter that made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t expected, or even knew he wanted.

Evalin glanced over at him and caught his quick grin when he noticed her looking. “What’s that look for?” he asked, his tone light and teasing.

“Just… thanks,” she said simply, her voice soft but sincere.

“Don’t mention it,” Stan replied, though the words came out quieter than usual. He cleared his throat, forcing his tone back to its usual playful ease. “You did good tonight, Evi. Better than good.”

Evalin smiled faintly, her gaze drifting back to the window. The night had been chaotic, unpredictable, and overwhelming at times, but for once, she didn’t feel like a complete outsider. She’d survived, awkwardness and all, and even managed to help Stan in the process.

After a long moment, Evalin’s voice broke the comfortable silence. “It’s strange…” she said, almost to herself.

Stan glanced at her, curious. “What is?”

“I’ve never really felt… like I fit in anywhere,” she admitted, her tone thoughtful, almost distant. “But tonight, it was different. I wasn’t just watching from the edges. I got to be part of it. I got to belong.”

The words struck Stan like a punch to the chest. Belong. She said it so simply, so earnestly, yet it carried a weight he hadn’t expected. He swallowed hard, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly as he tried to find the right response.

“Well,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual, “you didn’t just belong tonight. You made it better. You lit up the whole damn room, Evi. You’re something special.”

Evalin turned to him, her brow furrowing slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe him. But before she could respond, Stan flashed her a crooked grin, lightening the mood. “Guess you better get used to it, huh? You’re with me, after all. I’m all about shaking things up.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re unforgettable,” he shot back with a wink, though there was a warmth in his tone that went deeper than his usual banter.

The quiet returned, but now it was tinged with something unspoken, something that lingered between them like the hum of the engine. Evalin leaned her head against the window again, a small smile playing on her lips as she hummed along to the music. And Stan, for all his bravado, couldn’t stop the flutter in his chest at the sound.

Whatever this was, he wasn’t ready to let it go.

The car pulled into the gravel driveway of the Mystery Shack, its headlights cutting through the dark before Stan turned them off. The hum of the engine faded, replaced by the faint chirping of crickets in the cool night air.

Stan leaned back in his seat, glancing at Evalin as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "Well," he said with a grin, "thanks for comin’ to the bar with me tonight. I couldn’t have done it without you."

Evalin giggled softly, her smile warm. "Why not? I had a good time." She paused for a moment, then added with a playful tilt of her head, "You know, we should do it again sometime. Hopefully next time there isn’t some creep to ruin the fun. But… having you swoop in like some big, strong hero to save the day isn’t so bad either."

Stan blinked, her words hitting him in a way he didn’t quite expect. His grin faltered for just a second as his heart gave a small, unexpected flutter. "Well," he said, recovering quickly and forcing a cocky smirk, "what can I say? Saving the day’s kinda my thing. You just let me know when you’re ready for round two."

Evalin’s laugh was light and genuine, completely oblivious to the effect her words had on him. She opened the car door and stretched slightly in the cool night air. To her, it was simple banter, a lighthearted end to a long, chaotic evening. But Stan lingered for a moment in his seat, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel as he replayed her words in his mind.

Big, strong hero. It wasn’t the kind of thing he usually heard, and hearing it from her of all people stirred something unexpected in him. She wasn’t just a partner in tonight’s scheme; she saw him as someone she could count on, someone she trusted.

“You comin’?” Evalin’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see her standing by the car, her expression curious.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan said, shaking his head and stepping out. He locked the car with a dramatic flourish before turning to her with his usual smirk. “Don’t worry, Lady Luck. Next time, we’ll leave the creeps in the dust.”

Evalin laughed softly, falling into step beside him as they headed toward the Shack. As she opened the door and slipped inside, Stan lingered for a moment on the porch, his gaze following her retreating form.

He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “I think this crazy lady is growing on me,” he muttered under his breath before stepping inside, the warmth of her laughter still echoing in his chest.

<< Chapter 1 // < Chapter 14 // Chapter 16 >

[carelessflower]

sunday recap 🤭⭐️

going thrift and eating with my friend today, literally just plan this with her yesterday and didn't even know what we gonna eat till we arrive at the mall (longer thread here)

look at my fit (my friend said it giving local mafia) but I feel like that tough foul mouthed best friend in asian drama

korean bbq. not buffet but two person combo (beef, pork belly and chest), which still good, also got some early birthday gift hehe

first try on this demure ass sweater. crazily expensive and doesn't even fit me or my style

two different leather jackets at h&m, my friend said the black one fit me better but I love the red one more lmaoo been obsessed with this color. didn't get it tho I'm a broke hoe and also it literally so hot in my country

so funny story the thrift store we intend to go was in some sorta like old looking apartment complex (kinda their aesthetic vintage outside modern and chic inside) but my friend actually mistook it for the nearest building, which more like basement for stores anyway. i found some cool sunglasses, not really a thrift but it so affordable

this taylor swift tease (store selling super trendy with like a ludicrous amount of money cause tell me why that satan is my sugar baby shirt that I'm pretty sure is copied down from the internet to the color cost like 2 meat buffets)

we finally realized and went to the right! building this time. which is like so many stairs and they charge the elevator because of course they would. after entering and trying several local stores in there I must say....shopping there can really be giving you body image issues like there some really cute pieces but gosh they all have limited size in tinie I'm talking xxs, s and m and literally nothing fit us. and it all the one with the more feminine and trendy designs too

anyway...after all that shenanigans we like walk to third floor for the thrift store my friends found on instagram, ill call this bougey store cause the clothes look very bougey, not really cheap tho and again with the tinie sizes. i did find some real leather jacket and vest (the long jacket smell REALLY weird) for like 10-12 dollars, 12-20$ vintage watches (they have the type that stretches, clip in like it a bracelet also some old fashioned metal clip in the back which is nice) and sunglasses but didn't take any of them cause well the prizes way out my budget also my friend said the sunglasses didn't suit at all

we were kinda disappointed and my friend said let go upstairs cause she saw some poster about this vintage-y place and wanna check it out for a long time. it really did like vintage like the vibe were absolutely vibing, mid pricing, some were kinda basic but like still cute. literally there like three ranges of vest and I know my type's come. narrow down and finally pick the more interesting one, also a win with the loose fit!!!

try on other. that checkered would look really pretty on sb thinner idk tho I really regret not buying that strap one it so perfect pairing with some t-shirt. also check their totes like it so adorable

the last store we went through kinda like it girl store. like it very telling influencers will absolutely race the shit through these. also exp asf. and explain to me why some pieces of them are my taste and I'm broke lol

also went to like a stall when we can make our own perfume and I tried on combination of peony and oolong and white tea and it smell so nice. like really need to look into this in the future

also we had milk tea:D

[lonesome-witching]

Losing You

An anon asked for some angst and well, here you go. For the second to last day of my own personal prompt week, which was a great way to get back up to date with me, you're all getting some angst. I hope it is angst because I don't know what I'm doing.

Do you have any prompts yourself? Or do you want to dive into what I wrote before? You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

“Okay, Robin, you got this. You totally one hundred percent got this.” Robin had considered her options. She could just not do it. But she was afraid she’d slip up anyway. The last thing she wanted was to have to confront this unexpectedly. She needed to be prepared. And right now, she was prepared.

She had practiced with Steve. Several times. She had gone over what to say and how to say it. She could do this.

“You got this,” Robin muttered to herself, lifting her finger to press the doorbell.

“Oh, hi, Robin,” Mike sighed as he saw her. “Nancy’s upstairs.”

“Alright, thanks, bud.”

Mike cringed as he walked back towards the basement. Robin went the other way. Up the stairs towards Nancy. She knocked on the halfway open bedroom door. Nancy’s head shot up.

“Robin? Hi,” she said with a smile on her face. “Come in. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Robin closed the door behind her.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just need to tell you something before you hear it from someone else.”

“Alright,” Nancy stretched the word out, just a little. “You’re scaring me a bit, Robin.”

“There is no reason to be scared… I think. It’s nothing bad. Or at least not like end of the world bad. It has nothing to do with Vecna or the Upside Down or anything like that. I promise.”

“Okay, go ahead. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Robin nodded her head. The words she had practiced with Steve already forgotten. She wasn’t sure how to say this anymore. Maybe it had been stupid. Maybe she was stupid. She wondered if she could still backtrack, pretend it was nothing and get out of there. But Nancy was looking at her with an encouraging smile. And well, she had gotten too far to give up now.

“Here it goes. I’m into girls.” For once she didn’t ramble, her mind short-circuiting and coming up with nothing. How could anyone think with Nancy Wheeler looking at them?

She wasn’t sure what Nancy was thinking. There wasn’t a single muscle on Nancy’s face that gave it away. Or maybe Robin was just really that bad at social cues.

The silence felt heavy though. Loaded. Robin didn’t like it.

“Nance? What are you thinking?”

“Why are you telling me?” Nancy sat up straighter, her smile long gone.

“Because you’re my friend and I felt like you should know. I didn’t want to slip up and have it be awkward between us, so I thought it would be best to tell you now.”

“You’re not into me, are you?”

“What?” Robin’s voice pitched up. “No, of course not.”

“Oh, God, we slept in the same bed.”

“Yeah, but nothing happened. I swear, I wasn’t like trying anything.”

Nancy didn’t say anything. She just looked anywhere but at Robin.

“Should I…” Robin pointed at the door behind her. She didn’t wait for Nancy’s answer, walking out. This was for the best, she thought with tears in her eyes.

-

Nancy stared at herself in the mirror. The scowl that seemed to be burned on her face. Her hair was messy. Her skin was pale. She looked sick. She felt sick. Not because of the way she looked. Which wasn’t helping.

She looked at the phone on her nightstand. She could call Robin and hope for the best. But she truly wasn’t sure what she could say. There wasn’t anything left to say. Nothing that could take away the bitter taste her own words had left in her mouth.

She missed Robin. She did. A part of her craved to be near Robin all the time. It was frustrating. Especially now. Now that she couldn’t just call and hear her voice. Couldn’t just ask her to come over. And it was her own fault.

Maybe she could blame her parents or the society they lived in. But those were cheap excuses. She should have known better. She should have learned from everything that had happened the past few years. She should have, but apparently, she hadn’t. Because somehow Robin being into girls made Nancy feel weird. That simple fact had threatened to uproot her life. So, she pushed her away. And now she was left just like she had been for the past 4 years. Alone.

She sat down on her bed, pulled her legs to her chest and started crying.

[nercyar-ika]

Bad Habits: Chapter 10

Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077 Pairing: Johnny Silverhand/Fem!V Read on Ao3 - Master List Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Waking up V wished that the way she was feeling was just a bad dream and not because of the hangover. Johnny did say the worst he would do was drinking but V didn't fully expect a hangover. Her arm was sore in an odd spot. V knew this feeling from all her other tattoos but with how her head was pounding, her mind didn't go straight to a new tattoo. Sitting up V looked down at her arm, there was a fresh ink, a heart with an arrow that read Johnny + V in the center. She froze seeing it and sheepishly looked around the room realizing this wasn't her apartment. Then the taste of copper filled V's mouth. Blood? V thought to herself before coughing it out into her hand. "V?" It was a woman's voice, not Johnny calling her. "Hm?" V was still looking at her hand trying to figure out what to do with the blood. "Spit blood first thing every morning?" She then looked over and saw Rogue speaking to her.

The room she was in wasn't one she knew but from the looks of everything it must have been a motel or cheap apartment. Rogue was sitting in a chair across from V was lying on. "Nice of you to finally join us sleeping beauty," Rogue commented making eye contact with V. "How are you feeling? "Like I was hit by 50 trucks... We didn't do it... did we?" V asked beginning to feel shy, as her cheeks turned red. "No, we did not. The first time you walked up, sensed there was something familiar about you. Johnny randomly showed up at my booth at the Afterlife and I thought 'Cute kid too bad she's gone whacked.' The way he was acting I figured you had lost your marbles," Rogue stood up. "Then he smiled and finally explained everything and it made slightly more sense. Only that cocky bastard could smile like that, so I knew it was him." She walked over closer to V's bed. "This feels... weird," V paused. "You know about Johnny I mean," V stayed silent as Rogue looked her over. "So he told you about Smasher?" She asked as Rogue sat on the edge of her bed. "Yes and Grayson. He somehow managed to get us some info about who we were looking for. I'll do some digging around before we can do anything. Rest up and I'll check in later," She moved closer to V before grabbing V's face, now only a few inches away from her face. "Unbelievable that bastard's somewhere in your head" Her eyes moved as if she was scanning V before she turned around to leave.

It was good timing on Rogue's part because right after the door closed behind her another wave of sickness hit V. Once she finished throwing up Johnny showed up. He looked at her worried before moving to sit on top of the motel dining table. "Should be you getting sick over here not me." "Yeah well life isn't always fair," Johnny laughed. "Also, might want to check your holo. I didn't read anything but saw the name River Ward pop up several times. It'll take time before Rogue gets back to you anyway." His tone changed when saying River's name. "Do you really hate the guy that much?" V couldn't help but laugh slightly, she then had to stop herself from feeling ill again. "Don't trust him." That was all Johnny said. "Is it because of his job? Or something else?" V knew she shouldn't push it. "It's part of why I don't like the guy but it's not why I don't trust him," His tone had changed. "Look I'm not going to tell you who you can fuck but really? Him?" "Who said we'd be fucking?" V laughed now able to hear that Johnny was jealous. "Plus I'm dying it doesn't seem fair to get with anyone." "That's why I'm here to fix this..." She nodded at Johnny before standing up, V did her best to drop the subject. Heading outside the room, V was greeted by the sun which felt just a little too bright today. Johnny showed up again this time smoking by the railing outside. "What is this place?" She asked hoping this hangover wouldn't last forever. "Place where you can puke all over the carpet, no problem," He sounded pleased with himself. "Rogue probably got us it."

A day or two went by before Rogue contacted V again. She explained what the word "Ebunike" meant for them and where the two should meet. To V it was very clear Rogue was excited about doing a job like this. V made her way to the Afterlife, once there Rogue introduced her to Crispin Weylind before explaining that he would be helping them. "I hear you're hunting Smasher." Crispin grinned "Ready? We'll talk on the way," Rogue asked before V gave her a small nod. The two then made their way out of the Afterlife and to Rogue's car. She filled V in on things she didn't share over the Holo. "Gotta a little somethin'" Rogue grinned at V before popping the trunk of her car. V moved to look inside, there lay a jacket, Something about it made V's heart skip a beat. She knew what this was but did her best to hide her excitement. "Is... Is this Johnny's?" V asked picking it up to examine things more. "You sure you won't confuse us if I wear it?" She then teased. "Try it on!" Johnny stood next to V grinning like crazy when he saw it. "It'll be like you're wearing your output's jacket." He added. V could tell he wanted a reaction. What are you trying to say? V snapped as she began to blush. Johnny didn't reply. "Quite sure, Thanks," Rogue raised an eyebrow seeing that V was blushing. "A replica, made-to-order. The real jacket must have disintegrated into dust years ago" She added once V put the jacket on. "Thanks." V smiled at Rogue before she gave a nod of approval. The two then entered Rogue's car.

"What'd Johnny say about me?" Rogue asked V breaking the silence that filled the car. "I know you two talk all the time." "He told me you were the best. Always were the best." "The best," Rogue laughed. "Too bad that comes at a price." "You sure you're up for this?" V asked sounding worried for her. "What? You getting cold feet already?" "No... it's just Smasher is Johnny's obsession. I'd hate to see you get hazed. "You think so?" Rogue couldn't help but laugh again. "Just trying to be fair..." V said softly before the silence returned.

Parking the car Rogue explained they should wait until night but keep watch of the shipyard. A steakout didn't sound like the worst thing ever. The two then sat and watched until nightfall. Breaking in was easier than it should have been with how many Maelstrom were around. Rogue was able to keep up easily with V. Making it onto the Ebunike they ran into Grayson just as planned. He pushed Rogue's buttons before trying to bargain for his life with V. The man had been given Johnny's gun from Smasher himself. This upset Johnny but thankfully V was able to take it back from Grayson. V asked him if he knew what happened to Johnny's body, Grayson explained where they were in the oilfields. He then went on about how he had more of Silverhand's things offering them to V in return she had to spare his life. V closed her eyes before letting out a deep sigh. "You got lucky today." She stated before he pulled out a key from his pocket. V then grabbed the key from him. "Getting soft on me V." Johnny teased but he seemed to know more than he was saying the way he smiled. Grayson then explained which container she needed to look into before Rogue hit him over the head with her gun. Rogue was frustrated by V's choice and made it clear more things were going on that she wasn't sharing. She then walked away from V before kicking the air in frustration.

"Pointless, this whole thing. Still no leads, nowhere to go from here." "Fuck, V tell her!" Johnny sounded panicky before disappearing. "To Johnny, this is more than a 50 year old grudge." V said moving over to Rogue. "Really - Like what is it?" Rogue asked raising an eyebrow. "It's about you. He wanted to do this with you." "What to cheer me up? Huh didn't work." "Smasher -" "Fuck!" Rogue interrupted. "You don't get it... This isn't about Smasher. He's just the goddamn tip of the iceberg. Even if we get him, what does that get us? No reason to stay I'm out." She then stormed off before V could even say anything back. "Leave her alone V," Johnny sighed making himself known again. "She'll get it together, but times like this she prefers to be alone." "I get that." V agreed "Time to find out how to get that container down, if it's got something of mine in it I want it back."

V then went to look for controls to drop the container. There was a ladder that led to the crane arm controls close to where they had been standing. Climbing it up and flipping some leavers V had the container on the ground. Climbing down V then walked over to it and found Johnny sitting on a wall close to the container. He seemed excited. "Fuck I think I know what this is." "I guess time to find out if you're right!" V laughed as she opened the door. Inside was a car that had been covered up to keep it safe. Johnny moved to stand next to her. "Take that rag off," He demanded sounding even more excited. V followed his orders and then looked at him after unveiling a Porsche 911 II (930) Turbo. She was silver and covered in Samurai logos as well as things that made it clear this had to have been Johnny's "My ride. Hop in I'll even let you drive," V looked at him doing her best not to laugh, giving him a look that screamed 'really?' "What it's not like I can drive you right now passenger princess." Johnny laughed as V entered the car. "Hate to admit it but you got a nice taste in cars." V laughed running her fingers around the wheel before firing up the engine.  "You mean good taste period," Johnny then made a pleased sound. "Purrs like a dream." "Oh yeah." V grinned now failing to hide her excitement. The car lover in her was loving every minute of this.

"All right, Let's go see where they fuckin planted my ass." "I never realized the thing between you and Rogue was that serious." V stated as they drove to the oil fields. "Damn right, it was serious. When we meet up, someone always died." "Sounds romantic," V laughed. "And very your style." "I could show you something more romantic," Johnny moved to look at V and grin, she caught him out of the corner of her eyes before moving them back to the road. "There was always something going on. She had a gig, I had a gig - music that is... Was never run of the mill. Although did try to take her to see a flick once." "Aaaand?" V moved to look at him while raising an eyebrow. "And nothing came of it. As usual." He frowned before V moved to look forward again. They had just made it to the oilfields, finding a place to park the two then began to look around for anything.

After looking around for what felt like hours and finding nothing that resembled Johnny's remains, V sat down on a piece of sheet metal. Johnny had already sat down across from her, it was clear his mind was racing but he lost all words. "Look... Johnny, I'm sorry." V's heart was breaking for him. She could feel his disappointment and feeling lost. "Just kind of hoped there would be something. No marker even. I'm not even 'resting' where there is a marker back with Alt," V pulled out a knife she had been carrying and began to scratch his initials into the metal, followed by his birth and death date. "What would you even write for me under that? 'Here lies Johnny Silverhand the man who'-" Johnny asked watching V closely as she interrupted. "The man who saved my life." She looked up and smiled at him. It was an easy question to answer for V, it's something she's thought about more than once even. Johnny just might not be able to see it how V saw it she always told herself. "-You told me that last time. I should have known you would again," He smiled back before standing up and taking his sunglasses off. "I really wish I could make those words true for you. When the time comes I'll go back with Alt leaving you with your body. " "I would do the same for you Johnny." V's voice was softer and more caring than before. "I know you would which is the part that scares me about you," He laughed. "Some days it feels like I have my own body again, but then I'll get this feeling like I don't or I'm still in Mikoshi. Then I'll get reminded your by my side in some way," Johnny sat down next to V as he lit up again. "And then everything just feels right. It's a wave of relief, feeling safe even." "Sometimes I have dreams like that. Where I wake up and I'm not there it's just you. It's hard to explain... I really help you like that?" "Always have. You've always been a friend to me even when I was a jerk. I don't want to mess this up. I always pushed others away... Rogue, Kerry, Alt, and even Santiago. I can't make it up to everyone which is why I don't want to get you hating me now." "You were a real jerk there at the start. Kind of funny how so much has changed." V smiled at him. "Remember how you woke up at Vik's talking about seeing things and then crying to Misty about how you're scared to die." Johnny couldn't help but laugh. "How you tried to kill me but managed to stop yourself," Now V was laughing remembering all of this with him. "Maybe you can start with making things better between you and Rogue." She smiled changing the subject back to Johnny making things better for everyone. "I do owe her a date. Said I'd take her to the movies and never managed to make it. Could be a good start but that means you'd have to let me take over again. You'll have to call her to set things up." "I trust you. But you have to promise me something. If I help make things better between you and Rogue for your date do you promise to not listen to what I tell her?" Johnny raises an eyebrow at her question. "And if I say no?" "Then I guess you overhear everything," V laughed as she stood up to brush her pants off after sitting on the dirty metal for so long. "Just don't listen to the call okay?" Johnny nodded in agreement. "Thank you, Valerie." He said softly before going into hiding.

V made her way over to Johnny's car as she rang Rogue. She prayed enough time had passed that she wouldn't be pissed off anymore after things with Grayson didn't go as planned. After a few more seconds of the holo ringing she finally picked up. "Hi Rogue it's V. I have two questions for you. One from Johnny and one from me. Johnny would like to invite you out on a date and would like to know where you'd like to go." "Are you sure this is Johnny asking and not you asking for yourself?" Rogue asked not sounding amused with this. "Oh come on Rogue I thought you said you could tell us apart," V teased. "But it's really Johnny asking this. As for my question, it's more serious and for a fixer... I'm not sure how to ask this without sounding weird but, do you know where Johnny's body truly is? Or could you find some way to find out where it is? I think maybe if we have his body when splitting the engram off and into a new body he can come back." Rogue didn't respond right away, it was clear she was thinking things over before she finally spoke. "For the date. Silver Pixal Cloud. As for your question. Grayson was wrong about the oilfields but he didn't know that. There were rumours of his body being found sometime back in 2030. It seemed to be in cold storage along with the remains of Old Night City. Some say those remains were bought by a collector or Arasaka kept them. I never fully found out if that was true or not but I do know they aren't in Robert's grave. I wouldn't be surprised if Arasaka managed to buy them off of the collector later on. I hope that answers your question. Meet me at the Afterlife for that date." She then hung up. V then sat down in the driver's seat of Johnny's Porcha waiting for him to come back, It didn't take him very long to show up. "Know anything about Silver Pixal Cloud?" V asked now heading to pick up Rogue. "Yeah, it's an old drive-in place. Guess she really did want to see that movie." V could see Johnny's smirk in the corner of her eyes. "Yeah, I guess so..." She did her best to hide the jealousy that was starting to show up. V knew Johnny would be able to read her like a book and yet he said nothing until they arrived at the Afterlife. Parking the car V could see Rogue waiting outside already. Stepping out V noticed Rogue was looking her way so she waved and gave a sheepish smile, still trying to hide she was jealous. Johnny needed to be happy too.  V thought to herself hoping Johnny didn't hear it. "Where did you find that?" Rogue asked seeming to know the car. "Oh, this thing? It's what Grayson handed over. Johnny's been purring all over it excited that his baby is back." V laughed leading Rogue over to the passenger seat and opening the door for her. "I promise Johnny will show up when we get there. Just being your driver for now. Plus I don't fully trust him driving-" "Hey!" Came from Johnny now in the back of the car. "- or at least just yet." V added. The rest of the car ride went by fast. Once they made it to the Silver Pixal Cloud V realized they were going to have to break in. It wasn't a hard job to do, easier than most Fixer jobs. Once getting inside the ticket booth office V was able to unlock everything so Rogue could get in as well as able to unlock the projector room. "Well Have fun you two." V smiled at Johnny after turning the projector on before downing a pill before he could say anything.

[honoriotsusuki]

❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐓'𝐂𝐇𝐀 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐀 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 ❝

𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐀𝐇𝐎𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐓

COULD BE READ AS PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC|| NB!READER

WARNINGS: talk of drinking and alcohol, swearing, implications of murder/ violence, ragbros

🕊 Ah, Mondstadt. Nation of freedom and wine. Can't forget wine

🕊So, with all that alcohol who reigns Supreme as the most immune to its hilarious effects?

🕊Well. Let's see.

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀

💫 Honestly she would be higher if she actually had the money to afford a drink in the first place.

💫but since she never gets the chance, the few times people pay for her bill she passes out after a drop

💫You take her out to a bar, prepare to haul her back to her cheap apartment

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍

🌼 Jean doesn't drink, not alcohol at least.

🌼She drinks like eighteen espressos per day to keep her awake after pulling another all-nighter, but she doesn't like alcahol

🌼Since she doesn't spend much time with Barbara she doesn't want the few times they can spend together to be her drunk.

🌼So yeah. When she does have alcohol she is out like a light. Will straight up just fall over like she died.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂

🍷 He will never admit he's a lightweight. Ever.

🍷sure he hates alcohol and its taste but he's too embarrassed to admit he can't stomach it.

🍷Kaeya makes fun of him. Alot.

🍷which is rich coming from Kaeya since he's a sad drunk and just starts crying and apologizing to Diluc when he's drunk.

🍷yeah it gets real awkward.

🍷but let's just say he did get drunk. He gets...happy? Like he breaks into fits of giggles.

🍷It is genuinely unsettling.

𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎

🧪Ah chalk boy.

🧪He's not that bad tbh

🧪Like it takes maybe three glasses to knock him out

🧪He's a weird drunk.

🧪Like oddly honest.

🧪He will speak his mind when he's drunk no matter how uncalled for those thoughts are

🧪So yeah, avoid him if he's drunk. Unless you have an unbreakably high self-esteem, it's for your own good.

𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

🐰Il be perfectly honest I don't know much about Amber's character so I just put her as the middle.

🐰But what from I can gather she would be a happy and loud drunk

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

🪈you might be surprised to see him this high and I don't blame you-

🪈Like we see this fucker drunk constantly!

🪈but in my mind heactually has an above average tolerance.

🪈he's just drunk. Alot.

🪈Also, he's another sad drunk. But he has to get really drunk to become sad. If he's not absurdly drunk, he's just absurdly clumsy and loud

𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐀

🔮This woman doesn't drink much

🔮but she is a menace when it comes to appearances

🔮you'd think at first glance she's a lightweight but no.

🔮she can down whiskey like it's no problem

🔮Also she doesn't really change when she's drunk

🔮just a bit more tired.

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀

❄️Okay so we already talked a bit about Kaeya in Dilucs section.

❄️This fucker can down so much alcohol that his blood content is more wine than water.

❄️He's such a prick about it too.

❄️if you are a lightweight he will rub it in your face that he can drink you under the table.

❄️But when all is said and done and he gets drunk shit gets sad.

❄️He just starts crying- and apologizing to everyone.

❄️like mostly Diluc but he will apologize for everything he can. It's just sad.

❄️nobody tells him he gets like this because they're sorta scared of dealing with the aftermath of telling Kaeya he's trauma dumped on an entire bar at least four times

𝐄𝐔𝐋𝐀

⚔️THIS WOMAN CAN DOWN SO MUCH BEER

⚔️like it's scary how immune to alcohol she is.

⚔️she doesn't even drink that much. She just has this natural alcohol immunity.

⚔️Nobody has ever seen her drunk.

⚔️well, some treasure hordes did. But they didn't lice to tell the tale.

𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀

✝️ We all knew this was coming

✝️ Homrgirl could drink god under a table

✝️I mean, she technically did with Venti, but that's not what I mean

✝️ She might as well be drinking water.

✝️girl drinks hard-core vodka too.

✝️Rosaria is scary. But in a hot way.

@𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈