#sometimes I yearn to be that fucking stupid again

[harley-the-hogs-big-hog-shop]

y'know it's been a really long time since I've had a violent unhealthy meltdown.

maybe I due for one? as a treat? I could like throw a brick through a local KFC window then try to kill a cop or something.

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie stares up at his ceiling bored out of his mind. He’s not technically completely on bed rest from the bat injuries, but he’s not allowed to do anything too strenuous. It’s ridiculous though really. He’s basically all healed with his ugly scars that make up a good portion of his body, but whenever the kids see them, they tell him to lay back down.

It’s stupid really. This is not how he thought playing the hero would end. Well… honestly he hadn’t thought that far ahead before, but now…

He groans and sits up ignoring the way his side slightly aches, but he needs to call the one person who actually knows what’s he going through. He makes his way down the hall and to the phone where he dials a number he had memorized months before.

After the second ring there’s a voice that answers, “Harrington residence.”

Eddie sighs, “How do you overcome the never ending boredom of our condition? I can’t be laying in bed all day, man.”

There’s a laugh on the other line. “It’s good hearing from you. How are you doing?” Steve asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

It somehow pulls a smile on his face in the way only Steve can. “Not great, man. Better though now that I’m talking to you,” Eddie flirts shamelessly.

“Same here. But hey, I’ve actually been spending some time in my pool. The doctor told me that swimming isn’t too strenuous as long as I’m not doing laps back and forth like I used to. You should stop by sometime. Exercise usually gets my mind off things. Even floating around in the pool helps.”

Eddie let’s Steve’s voice wash over him and soothe all the aches in his body. Swimming or floating sounds nice, but being around Steve sounds even better. “I’ll stop by sometime then definitely.”

“Let me know if you need a ride or anything, alright? No shame in that.”

Eddie tried to hold back a sigh. He hates that people feel the need to take care of him after he’s handled himself all these years. “I’ll be fine, but thank you. When should I come by?”

“Literally whenever you want, man. I’d appreciate the company,” Steve replies sounding almost desperate for Eddie to stop by. It makes Eddie smile.

“I’ll see you some time soon then,” Eddie replies with a smile.

“Sounds great,” Steve says like he’s smiling equally as much as Eddie.

Eddie lets his heart yearn a little longer as he hears Steve breathing on the other line. He doesn’t want to say goodbye, he just wants to stay in this moment as long as he can. He hears a shuffle on the other line then the steady breathing again.

These are the moments that confuse Eddie the most. Whenever they call and they just linger on the line when they know the conversation should end just like the linger in each other’s space whenever they’re physically around each other. It makes Eddie’s heart race, but he tries to fight it. Steve isn’t into him like that. Sure, he stares at his lips a lot and lets him flirt with him and even sends him winks but… it’s not like that.

Steve deserves someone gorgeous. Some girl that isn’t covered in scars and missing their left damn nipple. Eddie sighs.

“You okay?” Steve asks. Eddie nearly jumps as he forgets Steve is still able to hear him on the other line.

“Yeah, man. Just…” Eddie trails off and runs a hand over his face before pulling the phone down and thudding his head back against the wall. “I think I love you,” Eddie mumbles, making sure the phone is far away and muffled against his stomach. He pulls it back up and continues. “I just have to go, but I’ll definitely take you up on your offer if it still stands.”

“Pool is always open for you, Eddie.”

The way he says his name sends chills down his spine. Fuck. “Thank you. I’ll talk to you soon I hope.”

“I hope so, too. Bye Eddie.”

“Bye Steve,” Eddie says and hangs up as soon as he can and gasps for air. Damn Harrington for making him so breathless.

He makes his way back to his room and digs through his drawers for his old swim trunks that he prays still fit. He finds them and pulls them on. He frowns.

They fit okay, but that’s not the problem. His scars are exposed in a way that make him want to cover up completely and never let Steve see this side of him. He feels… he sighs and looks away from his scars. He grabs the nearest shirt he can and tugs it over his head. He can just swim with it on. The scars of his ankles and legs are fairly small and less gruesome so he’ll be fine exposing them.

He turns to look in his mirror but stops. He knows if he sees himself, he won’t go to Steve’s. He knows the man won’t judge him but… looking won’t help convince him of that.

So, without taking another moment to consider, Eddie grabs his keys and wallet, slips on his shoes, and heads out of his trailer. It’s weird to be out in daylight with his scars partially on display, but he needs this.

The drive over is fairly quick. He bypasses the front door and just starts heading to the backyard. He hears the water splashing a bit before he’s greeted with the sight of Steve slightly wading around the shallow end.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, startling Steve. “Sorry,” Eddie says with a smile, “When you said anytime, did that mean today?”

“Of course, of course,” Steve says making his way to the steps of the pool. He may have said something else but all Eddie hears is his own conscious chanting Speedo, Speedo, Speedo.

And it is a lovely sight. Christ.

Eddie’s eyes fight to try to stay up. It helps when Steve snatches a towel off a nearby chair and wraps it around his waist. “Sorry,” Steve says sounding unapologetic.

“Don’t be,” Eddie flirts.

Steve winks and flirts back, “Sadly today wasn’t a skinny dipping day.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie mutters under his breath. He hopes the water is cold.

“I’ll grab an extra towel for you, just give me a minute,” Steve says with a smile and heads inside.

Eddie takes a few deep breathes, removes his shoes, and sits by the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in. It’s warm.

The back door opens and Steve returns with a towel and two beers. Eddie makes grabby hands at the beer and Steve complies by opening one and giving it to him.

The cold liquid makes Eddie feel a little more alert as he stares at his feet in the water. He feels like his wet shirt against his body is going to be a harsh, uncomfortable reminder of swimming in the lake behind Reefer Rick’s place. He sighs and slowly starts removing his rings one by one before setting them by the poolside.

He slowly starts sliding forward into the pool but is stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. “Gonna take your shirt off first?”

Eddie scoots back and sits on the edge. He takes a big swig of his beer before shaking his head. Steve sits next to him and softly says, “I’m not pressuring you or anything, but it’ll feel nicer to not have wet clothes clinging against the scars.”

Eddie sighs and puts his head in his hands. “I don’t want you to see them,” Eddie says honestly.

“Why not?” Steve asks not offended or pushing it, just prompting him to continue.

Eddie sits up and looks at his feet in the pool again. “I’m scared of your reaction. Scared that you’ll find them hideous and find me hideous. I hate those damn gasps every time one of the kids sees my shirt lift or someone sees part of my face when I go out. But to see it all at once… is a whole new beast.”

Instead of responding, Steve slips into the pool in front of Eddie, the water coming up to his hips. He grabs Eddie’s hands and places them on his scars. “And what do you think when you see my scars?” Steve asks.

Eddie glances up at Steve’s eyes and hesitantly looks down. His heart skips a beat as he stares at them. He traces his fingertips lightly over them. “I think of the way you got them. The way you sacrificed yourself for us and risked everything for everyone else. The way you got blood on my vest but I didn’t care. You still somehow managed to defeat Vecna with those wounds still open. God, Steve. They’re absolutely gorgeous.” And he means it. Every word of it.

Steve’s hands come to the hem of Eddie’s shirt and slightly tug up. Eddie releases a deep breath and lifts his hands over his head, letting Steve pull the shirt off. When he’s free from it, he sees Steve staring down at his torso, eyes flicker over the scars before he slowly rests his fingers on them. The skin is sensitive and Steve’s fingers are cold and slightly wet, so Eddie shivers.

“You wanna know what I see?” Steve asks. Eddie’s tongue rests on the top of his lip as he nods. “I see the marks that show the way you sacrificed yourself to try to save Dustin. To distract the bats from the rest of us, which saved the us and helped us defeat Vecna. The marks that almost took you from us which destroyed everyone. The same ones that bond us, and are used as an excuse so I can reach out to you when I want to. They’re the marks that remind me of everything that you are. And they’re absolutely beautiful, Eddie. You don’t ever need to hide them around me,” he finishes his little speech settling between Eddie’s legs with his hand resting over the scars on his face.

Eddie feels a single tear slip down his face and wipes at it. “Thank you,” he breathes out and rests his forehead against Steve’s. He knows in this moment that he has to tell Steve. And with all the honesty that he’s already laid out he’s able to confess, “Steve, this might ruin things between us, but… I’m in love with your scars as much as I’m in love with you.”

Steve pulls away and searches Eddie’s eyes before huffing out a laugh, “Damnit, you beat me to it. Because I am absolutely in love with you - all of you.”

Eddie smiles so wide that he can feel the scars on his face tug up before he slips into the pool and seals his lips over Steve’s. His arms come up and trace the scars on Eddie’s side and Eddie mirrors him as he kisses and kisses and kisses him.

When they pull away to catch their breath, Steve says, “Let me show you how much I love all of your scars.” Then, he peppers kisses over each of Eddie’s scars, and Eddie thinks he might be in heaven.

[lale-txt]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 (𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟓: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐥

♫ My Ugly Clementine - I’m Boring

Why do I even want you? Why do I care? You make me think about you You make me stupid as fuck And I'm not even in love

⭅ back to m.list

✽ 𝐧𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝…

Akaashi and y/n arrived back in Tokyo around the same time and had ramen together afterwards to debrief their trips

y/n mentioned Osamu's name 79 times but it's not like Akaashi is keeping count

Yukie earned her nickname 'The Finisher' in high school and it also describes her driving style really well

like a true friend Makki hasn't stopped laughing for the rest of the day and would still burst out into random laughter whenever he saw y/n again

Sakusa diagnosed with third degree yearns

the Miyas didn't grow up with pets (their single mom had her hands full with the two of them already) but especially Osamu was always fond of them

as in every really close friendship y/n will sometimes forget what her friends' jobs are. this includes the ones playing pro league volleyball and the one working for a funeral company

Osamu's staff overheard the conversation about the engagement and maybe he hasn't fully cleared everything up just yet (he blames it on dinner rush)

the Tokyo group and the Osaka will finally meet soon! surely nothing chaotic and messy will happen! (lie)

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@brithedemonspawn @gigiiiiislife @yuminako @notverymarley @krissiekris

@wyrcan @kentocalls @simp-simp-no-mi @uncovered-mad-man @honey-deku

@yukichan67 @dailyakira @nu-suave @zq13 @morgan-lowell

@ellouisa17 @toges-cough-syrup

send me an ask or dm to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[thebottomfromhell]

The upper moons reacting to reader with facial piercings, like nostril, septum, or snake bites.

Welcome to another episode of let's remember these guys are from edo Japan and so they don't like our culture! /j. [Except Kokushibou, that man won't be happy with anything less than traditional Japanese swordsmen 🫤]

Uppermoons react to your style, facial piercings.

Warnings: Piquerism (non-sexual, but still), Mentioned self-harm, Self-hate, Karaku is a bit horny, Gyokko being Gyokko, Douma being Douma.

Gyutaro:

Gyutaro likes to look at your piercings, a lot. He looks at every piece of metal in your face, wanting to brush it softly with his hands, a little shinny reflection in what would be an imperfection. He carreses every part, gently and softly, a part of him he thought only belonged to Daki, and sees you. He adores it, the opposite way he scratches the black circles covering his own face. He wishes those could be covered with pretty and shinny things. Then again, make-up does exist. Then again, why bother? He will be still be ugly, he will always be ugly, resentful and twisted. Nothing like you or his sister.

He could pierce himself, too. You have asked him if he wanted, as he always touches your face so tenderly, looking with yearning eyes the holes in your face. You specially love it when he carresses your lips as he brushes your snakebites (sometimes you sneak a kiss into his fingers) but "Nah, it would heal anyway. Still, it suits you. Ne." He can't explain it but... it does make him feel less lonely with his own flawed face.

Gyokko:

More than how you look with them, Gyokko likes piercing you. And damn him if piercing your face isn't a rewarding expecience. It took you a lot of time to trust him enough to bring a needle to your face, knowing he is good with them, but that Gyokko might be tempted to use it to pluck one of your eyes out, but you have been wanting a piercing on the surface of the cheekbone, and you would rather not risk doing it wrong.

You bleed from the needles, and Gyokko knows he would never do on purpose such a harm to his own flawless skin, even if he could heal. You should heal as well, but you prefer to expose a wound decorated as a piece of art. Would you be surprised to see that after helping you with this, he started piercing jewelry in some of his victims? "And there. Try not to move your mouth too much for now, we wouldn't want to re-open this, would we~?" But he definetely likes it.

Hantengu:

He is terrified by the concept of piercing one's skin and putting a jewel so the wound can't heal. He doesn't even know why he is so upset about the idea, his own skin would heal instantly if he was ever pierced, if the needle even manages to harm him at all. But WHY DID YOU HAVE TO PIERCE YOUR FACE?! Pierce! Your! Own! Face! "Hantengu, you are having another break down." He gets like this everytime you take the jewelry off, specially the piercings in your eye-brows. Does he genuinely think the hole goes up to your brain or something?

"So scary.... so... so.... scary..." Well, it seems it doesn't matter if that is the case or not, the holes make him uncomfortable anyway. He tries to avoid looking at them, but he always end up looking at them. Not a big fan, it seems.

Sekido:

Why? Just why? "Are you fuck- ANOTHER ONE?!" Another piercing in your face. Of course you got to have another one, he told you to give it a break. It's annoying that you have an obssesion with making holes in your face, then spend who knows how much money on jewelry to plug them instead of healing like a normal human being! Well... not that he is an expert of human beings, but his point stands. "So you don't like it?"

You asked him, and he only frowns. It's irritating how he feels a potencial lack of responsibility. What if it gets infected? What if you regret? Can you even heal that? He doesn't even know and he is not going to make himself look stupid by asking. He just doesn't understand it, the desire to hurt your own face and keep it that way, it worries him too, but he is too irritates to behave properly. Still... "You look ok." It's not of his bussiness, if you want to do it, you can just do it. He will complain, but know boundaries enough to know he can't do more than that without hurting you.

Karaku:

Karaku grins, why not? You look so sexy with those piercings in your face, and there is just something so kinky about it. Maybe is the coldness of the metal against him when he kisses and brushes your face, maybe is the pain, maybe it's the similarity it has to branding and tattoing. But still, he thinks it's hot, he thinks you look hot with those in your face, posing jewelry as if it was part of you. Probably is, so far. "Would you like to get a piercing on your own? I think a tongue piercing would suit you."

He would like to get one, to be honest, but he doesn't know how that would work. The holes would probably heal around the metal, getting it stuck, so he would need to rip his tongue open to take it out if he ever needed to. Also, he might not even get the jewel on with how fast he would heal AND Sekido would give him a lot of crap for it. "Nah, they suit you better hot-stuff. I'm content with seeing and touching your face." Maybe one day if he actually wants to start shit, but he will be satisfiend with you having the piercings for now.

Urogi:

"Ohhhh! Shiny!" Urogi touches your face a lot, specially the piercings in your nose. You more often than not have to tell him to not mess with the septum, he sometimes pulls it by accident and with the lack of control of his own strenght you fear he might rip it out. Still, Urogi is attracted to everything bright, he will steal the pieces if you aren't wearing them, and if you are wearing them he will keep himself all over you, resting and trying to toy with the metal in your face.

Because of his fixation you decided to to a simple piercing in his ear to try it out. It was a disaster. He scratches his ear an hour later and ripped the piercing off, so you will not trust them with ones on the lips, nose or anywhere in his face, even if he can heal. At least he tries to be careful with you. "I really like them, you know? You look very nice!" But well, no harm done to him it seems, he is happy with teasing your face like a pet wanting attention

Aizetsu:

So... humans like to pierce their own skin and plug the wound with accesories to avoid healing, and all because it looks good? That is so sad, specially in the face, where everybody can see exactly ehat they have done to their own body. Set an imperfection. Worst part, as far as he knows, the face is one of the places humans heal the easiest, it's you who insist to keep that hole open. It's a bit sad that disregard for your own skin, but then again, everything is sad for him, so it's not as if it's a big deal for him.

"Do you like it?" He has to ask, even if he already knows the answer. Of course you like it, you would not have them in your face if you didn't. Still, he likes to hear you day it. "Yeah, I do. This is the image of me I like to see in mirrors. The me I want others to see." And so he can accept it with less grief, with the love you have for them. So he can feel less or more sad about it, depending on his mood. "I like it too, but don't get too much more, ok?"

Nakime:

Nakime states at you, quietly, hands still on her biwa. Now, she is not judging, she is just trying to understand. You have a fair face, easy on the eyes, to say at least, or at least that is what Namike thinks. "Why put holes on it?" She asks you after a while, you recently got another piercing, so she had she had to voice her curiosity. The only thing she ever did to her own face was a very little make-up (when she had make-up, that's it. Her husband did use it to gamble or trade for alcohol sometimes, she remembers with resentment), so the idea putting holes in it gives her a bit of an ick, even if she does like any jewelry.

"I don't know. I just like it." You answer honestly, and to be fair? It does suit you, it does suit you a lot. She would never let you bring a needle to her own face, even if she can heal, but Nakime can let her own biad aise to know... you like it, and she isn't meant to have an opinion in what you do with your body. "Good answer." She comments softly before focusing again on her biwa.

Akaza:

Akaza is no stranger to needles, not completely. He doesn't know why, but sometimes he looks at his wrists and has the sensation of needles pushing into them. Weirdly enough, it's only there when he has tattoos spread all upon his body, but he can't help but wonder... does it tickles and stings the same way your piercings do? Or is at a completely different feeling, let it be because the difference of place or purpose? He has marks on his face, and you have yours.

He doesn't know why his face is marked the way it is, maybe there isn't a motive at all, it's just how it is. But you? You have metal and holes in yours, wounds that could heal in just a few weeks with the peoper care. He is captivated by this choice of endure just because you like it. "I like your new piercing. It suits you." And that is enough to enjoy the pieces as part of you, as something as it's as part of you as your flesh. "Thanks." Because it makes up the ypu you want him to see.

Douma:

Douma is curious about the concept, humans are such a delicate species, for he can't tell if it's fitting or not for them to walk around with holes in their bodies. After all, with their, or rather lack of, healing abilities, a hole made in their bodies is meant to stay open, he would know. He does, sometime, keep some pretty corpses as decoration, having to take care of them so they don't start smelling and rotting, but holes do look pretty in the body. Now, plugging them with shinny metals seems like a even nicer idea! How come he didn't come with it by his own? Even more in the face, where everybody can see that a needle went through the skin as a performance, as decoration.

"They look endearing on you, darling." He compliments, as he is genuinely interested. He has your attention, and he knows it, so one day he asks you to pierce his eyebrow, nose and lips, only to pull the pieces of metal out of his body the second the skin closed against them, smiling at you, as it was only to show the difference between you too. Yet he never stopped complimenting you and asking for more, later you find out he uses those piercings he never gives back to mark his victims. "These jewels are beautiful, I definetely see them as so human. Let me carress your face, Y/N." And you do, because he is so gentle and loving. You can't even stop to wonder if it's fake or not.

Kokushibou:

You pierced your face... you pierced it. You have literal holes in it which you plug with metal... that is something that you currently do, and actually walk around with holes in your face when you take the metal off for whatever reason. [You guessed, he hates this one too.] He needs time to think. [He needs to take a nap, he is too old for this 🤣]. It's just that when he was human, your face had to be flawless. Marks and scars on one's face were not seen kindly, he would know. Why would the world become more tolerant now? He doesn't get it nor like it.

Still, you seem happy with those pieces of junk in your face, even the one in your mouth and nose. He can't imagines how talking and breathing would even feel with a hole every time you take the jewelry off. It gives him an ick, so he does prefer you having the piercings on than going around without them. He never comments on it, but you can tell, as subtle as he is... he doesn't like them.

[whatwouldsylwrite]

At least I got you in my head (4)

(3)

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

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

Notes: Happy pride month, guys! I feel like I committed a hate crime with this chapter, so I'm sorry. It's also longer than previous chapters by 2k. And um, the "hate crime" part (not literal hate crime, just some angst) is rushed because I really didn't enjoy writing it :/

Black haired girl is Yoon Jiwoo from My Name, and she is a badass, if you want to see some female violence go watch some edits of her.

Taglist: @abbyily @lillysbigwilly @gravygranules @blairfox04 @frogtits1 @ccinnamongrl @ninazenuk @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sunkissedbibi @couchgarbage @nil-eena (if you want me to tag/untag you for the whole series dm me please)

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

Caitlyn was again looking like a zombie, sipping her bitter coffee slowly. You were sitting in the coffee shop on the campus, and Caitlyn looked at you like a grumpy cat. Or a very pissed off cat. 

Caitlyn wasn't happy you distracted her (saved from exhaustion) from her studies (staring at her paper for an hour). But you didn't care as long as she sat with you and decompressed with her disgusting bitter 3-shots-of-espresso coffee. 

"You look like shit." You told Caitlyn and she glared at you. "You need to spend your weekend just sleeping for 30 hours. You can't do this to yourself."

"I'm fine." Caitlyn scoffed, but accepted the doughnut you slipped to her. "Thanks."

"I swear I will stay at your place for the weekend."

"I don't think you can be separated from Abby for so long, (y/n). Quite frankly, it makes me worried." 

Oh god, Cait had her detective face on, like she was solving a puzzle right now, and it made you nervous. 

"Why?"

"Well." Cait sipped her coffee. "You have the gay yearning in your eyes. Are you, perhaps, falling in love with her?"

"No." You cut sternly, surprising yourself. You didn't expect yourself to have such a strong reaction. "I'm not falling for a straight girl."

"Maybe falling was a strong word. You're crushing on her." The word crushing sounded so alien from Cait.

"It's manageable." You shrugged, not wanting to discuss your own weakness, but not wanting to lie to Caitlyn either. "I know I don't have a chance."

"This is quite upsetting." Caitlyn said and squeezed your hand. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't, I promise. I'm not stupid." You winked and drank your coffee. "Do you want to come to her fight on Friday?"

"I have to finish that paper." Caitlyn groaned. She noticed how you narrowed your eyes on her. "I swear, I won't study during the weekend. But if I push myself I can finish it."

"I'll be at your door at 12pm on Saturday. We will go outside, have a walk in the park, go to the bookshop or whatever nerdy place you want to visit. We both can use some downtime."

Caitlyn sighed but didn't protest.

"I'll text you when I go to sleep. Count 8 hours and then show up."

You nodded, proud of Caitlyn compromising on this topic. She didn't like "wasting time" but if you said it was for your benefit too she usually agreed. You trapped her in taking care of herself by thinking she was taking care of you, and it worked well. 

"Ask Ellie to come with you to Abby's fight. I'm sure she is going to be there anyway."

"You're right." You smiled and took your phone out. You still had Ellie's number from months ago. "Have you talked to her?"

"Yes. We study together from time to time, and sometimes I invite her to play chess." 

"Good. I'm happy you found your nerdmate." You smiled at Caitlyn and she smiled back. "Or is there something else?"

"No, we're friends. Not the kind you are with Abby." Cait looked pointedly at you. "I may be speculating, but I have a feeling she is not as straight as she thinks she is."

"Well, what do you want me to do? 'Hey, Abby, I know you're so deep in the closet you met fucking Aslan but how about you change your entire worldview because I have a crush on you that I totally can get over?'" You scrunched your nose, irritated at nothing in particular. 

"Obviously not that." Caitlyn frowned like she usually did when she was stategising, as if she could find a way to get you and Abby together because she was just that smart. "Well, I think you should start dating again."

You shrugged and looked down at your phone. 

to: Ellie Williams

Hi, it's (y/n)

Are you going to Abby's fight on Friday?

from: Ellie Williams

Hi

Yeah

Wanna go together?

to: Ellie Williams

Yes

from: Ellie Williams

cool 

I'll meet you there

"I'm not going to use other people in order to get over Abby. I'm not fighting fire with fire." You said, continuing your conversation with Cait. 

"You could use a distraction." Caitlyn shrugged in return. 

"I'll just find someone to tutor." 

"And I'm a workaholic with bad habits?" Cait muttered under her breath and bit down on her second doughnut. 

Thursday nights were usually booked for the time to unwind for both of you: you'd come home late, tired and hungry after classes and lessons on campus, Abby would be already home, studying in the living room for her usual seminar on Friday, also tired. 

Abby heard the keys as you opened the door and in a few minutes you appeared in the living room.

"Hi." Abby's chest tightened at your small, quiet voice and she looked at you. 

"Hey." She said gently and panicked, not really understanding why. "You look like shit." Nice save, Anderson.

"I feel like shit." You shrugged and went to your room to take your change of clothes. 

Abby took a deep breath, trying to get her panic under control - what was that? What, she wasn't allowed to be gentle with her friends anymore? What the fuck her brain was playing at? That was concerning. For some reason she kept creating excuses why it was okay to touch you, and that wasn't even the weird, selfish part. The weird part was - why did she even need to create excuses? She was touchy with her friends, and you were touchy too, it wasn't any different from her friendship with Ellie.

But somehow it was, and Abby was confused. She tried to act chill and normal around you, sometimes getting a little more sarcastic than usual. It didn't seem to bother you, but Abby got embarrassed every time she'd suddenly treat you a little rougher because she'd get this weird panic. Honestly, it was pissing her off - you were nice to her, gentle even, and she was acting like a school boy, tugging on your pigtails. 

Just like now. You didn't look like shit, you looked lovely despite being tired, and Abby had a fucking knee jerk reaction to god knows what. 

You came back from the shower, smelling like you, and you sat next to Abby, putting your head on her shoulder. Abby stopped typing, her heart doing a micro somersault: you were so close so suddenly it scared her. Or whatever she kept telling herself, really. 

"I wanna die."

"You're just hungry." Abby murmured and pretended to be concentrating on her studies. "There's leftovers from yesterday or I can order something for you."

You made a tired sound and Abby chuckled. 

"What do you want? Thai? Indian?" 

"Nah, don't waste money, I'll cook something."

"I'm not 'wasting money'. You're tired as fuck." I want to take care of you, she wanted to say, but she was being weird again, so she didn't. "Just pick."

"Let's do rock paper scissors."

Abby won and ordered your usual while you went through the endless list of tv shows for both of you to watch. Now, when you weren't that close, Abby got back to studying - her weird panic could wait until she was done. In Abby's mind her gpa was way harder to fix than whatever emotional things she had going on. 

"Cait really likes Ellie." You said offhandedly, and Abby perked up. "In a friendly way."

"Really?" 

Abby was surprised for two reasons: Ellie had a temper and was only likeable when she was interested in someone sexually, and Cait was so out of her league it was ridiculous. 

"Yeah. They play chess and study together. Cait doesn't study with people, so I guess Ellie is special in that way."

"Wow." Abby chuckled. "I mean, Ellie is extremely smart. Is it your type?" Abby teased, continuing the bit about you crushing on Ellie. However something in her grew anxious at the thought of learning what your type was.

"It's more about her arms, you know." You laughed, looking a little embarrassed at the admission. 

Something felt hot in Abby’s chest as she looked down at her own arms. She looked back at you and flexed her bicep to see your reaction, and it was worth it: you looked dazed for a second before quickly looking away, flustered. Abby laughed at you and you hit her on her arm, embarrassed. 

“Fuck you.” You laughed too, and Abby felt too good in this moment, just laughing and teasing you; she never wanted it to end. "What is your type?"

Abby blinked. Her type? She never gave it a thought before: relationships weren’t something she was too invested in, it never seemed to be worth the effort. She never experienced this head over heels love everyone was talking about, so she never cared to run after boys.

"I don't really have a type." Abby said, thinking back to her not-so-long list of exes. "You know, with men if he is not an asshole it's already a win."

You laughed and Abby smiled, her confusion about not having a type going away.

"Great, we're definitely going to have a perfect love life with these standards." You chuckled and laid back on the sofa, letting Abby get back to her study. 

Abby's favourite part of Thursdays was happening around 10pm, when you'd finish washing the dishes - today it was putting everything in the bin - and Abby'd get her excessive amount of pillows and blankets so you two could cuddle and watch the next episode of the ridiculous show you both were too invested in. 

"Come on, come here." Abby said a little impatiently while you were putting some pillows away. 

"I'm not the one who made a fucking fort out of pillows." You grumped but soon enough you put your head on Abby's shoulder, your hands tucked in front of your chest. Abby always expected you to hug her around her middle, but you never did, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. 

Sometimes, very rarely, when you'd get too tired, you'd fall asleep on Abby's chest, and Abby never had the heart to wake you up. You already showered, everything was clean and you didn't have any tasks to do, so why would she wake you up? Just so you could walk to your bedroom, your sleep interrupted? No. 

Abby looked down where your head was, curious if you were asleep after the episode ended, but you looked up just as she lowered her head, and fuck you were too close. So close Abby's heart fucking malfunctioned and started beating five times faster. She could feel your breath on her face and something was demolishing under her ribcage - it happened in a matter of seconds and you moved away, creating the distance between you, but Abby was so scared in that moment she didn't breathe. 

"Do you need to study?" You asked as you moved away and sat next to her. Abby tried not to feel disappointed at losing your warmth. 

"I'm done, actually. I feel kinda confident about tomorrow, you know?"

Abby stood up and started tidying up the living room, putting everything in its place.

"You're smart, Abby. You'd nail that seminar, I promise." 

"Thanks, (y/n). You're coming tomorrow to my fight, right?"

"Yeah. I even cleared my schedule for it." You said, pleased with yourself and Abby smiled. "But I'll kill you if you get hurt, you hear me? No missing punches."

Abby laughed and came closer to you, refusing to feel weird about being affectionate with you. It was fine. 

"I will be careful, I promise." Abby murmured as she leaned down and kissed your forehead. "Don't want to get in trouble with a woman who feeds me."

"Damn right." You said sternly. "Good night, Abby."

"Night, (y/n)."

You only had a vague idea about MMA fights: you were never really interested in sports, let alone violent sports, but well, Abby invited you so you decided to give it a shot. You weren't sure you'd like it (seeing Abby being punched? No thank you), but Abby wouldn't have invited you if it wasn't important to her, right?

Or were you fantasising again? Making a big deal out of nothing? Fuck, it was getting harder and harder to keep yourself in check with these things. Abby was sweet, and you were weak for sweet girls. 

You tried not to get delusional when your suspicion got too strong - was it intuition or wishful thinking? Were you seeing things that weren't there or were you ignoring what was? You didn't know, and yeah, it was manageable, but also - it drove you crazy. You couldn’t live like this, questioning Abby’s every move and every word.

Maybe you should have talked to her about the possibility of her not being straight, but her best friend was a lesbian, surely Abby had a moment to reflect on her own sexuality like some straight girls did when they found out their friend was gay. Abby was smart, she’d have figured it out already. 

God you thought you weren’t that stupid, but you were failing not to fall for Abby for a month and a half already. Hubris is a bitch, huh.

Ellie met you outside the place where the fight would take place fifteen minutes before the start. She looked good, as attractive as always - yes, (y/n), you needed to look at women you actually had a chance with, good job, keep it up - and the look she gave you suggested she thought the same about you. She even took your hand in hers as she led you to your seats, and you didn’t protest - somehow Ellie being touchy felt natural, and her cool hand felt nice on your skin. You sat together and you looked around.

“There’s supposed to be medics around, right?” 

“Yeah, but Abby doesn’t get super injured, she’ll be fine.”

“Have you seen her face? I almost went into cardiac arrest when I saw her.” 

“That’s her usual day at practice.” Ellie shrugged, her thigh warm against yours as she moved closer to hear you better. “Don’t worry, she can take a lot more than that. She is tough and intimidating, and she actually knows how to duck. But if you tell her I said it - your ass is grass.”

You laughed at Ellie's words and she smiled back. She explained to you how the fight was going to happen, and you felt a little hopeful - how much damage can happen in a five minute round? Not a lot, right? Right?

There were other fights too, and you had time to adjust to the overall violence of it all. You didn't know the girls who were fighting, but even then when a stranger got hit you couldn't help but flinch. Ellie noticed how stressed you were getting, so she took your hand in hers to ground you. The touch was definitely easy between the two of you, and it was comforting, so you squeezed her hand back. 

"I don't know if I'd survive this." You laughed and Ellie squeezed your hand back. 

"Look, they're all fine. No blood, no bruises." 

"The standards are too low, Ellie. You're in sports too, right?"

"If you call skateboarding a sport then yeah. I'm a hell of an athlete." Ellie snorted. 

"You should've taken Abby with you." 

"Babe, she has been in martial arts since she was four. I'm pretty sure she'd have kicked my ass if I asked her to leave MMA."

You laughed at this, a little bit confused: Ellie was behaving like Ellie you knew, not Ellie that was studying with Cait three times a week. The difference was intriguing. 

Finally Abby's name was announced and you got tense, bracing yourself. But when she walked to the cage, you forgot how to breathe for a totally different reason: she was so intimidating and confident, her defined shoulders rolled back in a threat, and you just couldn't help yourself. She was hot. She was so hot you pressed your thighs together as your eyes roamed over her trained body that screamed power and dominance, her top and shorts letting you see her abs and thighs that could crush your head if Abby wanted to. Fuck. 

Mark you as scared and horny. 

Her opponent was similar to her in size, and you watched with wide eyes as they approached each other after the bell rang. Abby was light on her feet, not too fast as previous fighters, but she timed her punches well, immediately cornering her opponent. But the girl was quick to recover as she landed some punches on Abby's side with her legs and you gasped, terrified.

"Abby's okay." Ellie said to you and you finally exhaled, not looking away from the cage. 

It was the most stressful eighteen minutes of your life, and the relief you felt when Abby was getting the upper hand and she was punching instead of getting punched, was immeasurable. Abby didn't really let her opponent corner her, her face had that calculated expression as if she knew every way this fight could go. That was comforting, but not as comforting as hearing the last bell and seeing Abby's black glove raised in the air to show her win. 

"That was so intense." You admitted as you relaxed in your seat and Ellie laughed, her hands stroking your thigh. 

"Believe me, it wasn't. You need to watch Abby's previous fights, there's some intense shit."

"No thank you." You said. "Do we wait for her or? What the fuck we are supposed to do, actually?"

"She told me to meet her at the party, so we can head out. Are you going to the party?"

"I dunno." You admitted sheepishly. "I have plans tomorrow."

"Come on, it will be fun. You can leave early and still get your beauty sleep. I can even set an alarm for you, Cinderella."

"Okay-okay. I'll leave at midnight." 

Abby arrived at the party a little later than she planned, but at least everyone was already having fun and not yet wasted. She quickly grabbed a beer and went through people to find Ellie and then find you - in Abby's head you were supposed to be with her. Ellie, however, was talking to her other friends - that was how Abby referred to anyone Ellie befriended in university - she was laughing and you were nowhere in sight. 

Ellie noticed her and went for a hug, patting her back.

"(Y/n) said your fight was 'so intense'." Ellie laughed and Abby laughed too, because they both knew Abby had way worse fights. "Congrats on not having your ribs broken."

"You're so sweet." Abby said mockingly. "What did I do to have such a supportive, caring best friend?"

"Nothing you should be proud of." 

"Have you seen (y/n)? I kinda thought she'd be with you."

"Yeah, she was talking to some girl." Oh. "Close to the bar." 

Something not really pleasant filled Abby's chest after Ellie's words, something like disappointment. She expected to see you there, but you were somewhere else, talking to someone else. 

Abby took a sip of her beer and went in the direction Ellie told her to find you. And yes, there you were, talking to a black haired girl Abby didn't know. It looked like the conversation was friendly, and the other girl didn't stand too close to you, which brought Abby relief - what the fuck was wrong with her? Why was she so uncomfortable with seeing you with someone else? What the fuck?

She walked through people to get closer to you, and when you turned your head you saw her and smiled. Abby smiled back and watched you touch the other girl's forearm, saying your goodbyes. The girl smiled at you and motioned at her phone as you nodded before she started to walk away. When Abby came to you, the girl wasn't there anymore and your smile was only directed at Abby, and it calmed her down, the normalcy of your life getting back. 

"Congratulations!" You hugged Abby tightly and she hugged back, stroking your back on instinct. 

"Did you like it?" Abby already knew the answer, but she really wanted to tease you. 

"Liked seeing people getting punched? No."

"But what about all those arms, hm?" 

"I swear to god, Abby." You elbowed her and Abby laughed. 

"Was it your friend?" Abby asked cautiously, trying to pass her curiosity as something casual. 

"Hm?"

"The girl you were talking to. I didn't want to interrupt, sorry." Was she really sorry? Maybe. 

"Oh, don't worry." You said, not answering Abby's question, and it made her feel not good. "Are you feeling okay though?"

"You're such a mother hen." Abby rolled her eyes. "My side is bruised, and she got my lip, but otherwise I'm fine."

"Great."

Abby spent the next hour glued to your side, talking to you: it was fun to be with you outside your shared apartment. Yeah, you spent time together on weekends, but being around a lot of people Abby knew and showing who she was friends with (yup, people knew you because you were a tutor on campus and a lot of them swore they got their credits thanks to you) was a cool feeling. Abby felt cool because she was friends with you. 

"I have plans tomorrow with Caitlyn." You said as you checked the time on your phone. "I'll head out."

"Already?"

"Yeah. But you have fun, okay? Call me if you need me." 

"Need you?" Abby raised her eyebrow.

"What if you get so drunk you'd need assistance?" You teased and hugged Abby. "Have fun! See you at home."

"Okay, mom." Abby laughed and watched you leave, just a bit sad. 

She found Ellie and hung out with her friends until she needed a refill of her beer. And while she was waiting for her beer, someone scooted closer to her and coughed, catching her attention. 

Abby turned her head to see a guy her age with a stubble. He smiled at her and Abby smiled back, a little confused.

"I was at your fight today." He said as he looked her over, and Abby got thrills from his attention. "You know how to throw a punch."

"Thanks." Abby said, pleased. Guys rarely liked the fact she could fuck them up, and hearing a guy saying she was good was ego boosting. 

"I'm Owen." He stretched his hand for a handshake, and Abby took it.

"Abby." 

The vibration of notifications woke you up and you expected to see Caitlyn’s message saying she finally went to sleep. You checked the time - 3am - and looked at your notifications. Indeed, Caitlyn messaged you half an hour ago with “if i see you earlier than 12pm ill kill you”, but there were other notifications. 

from: Abby

Hi im with a boy

sorry

promise we won’t be loud 

Your heart sank, but you didn’t even have time to process your emotions as you heard the front door open and people talking in hushed voices. Of fucking course you woke up just in time to hear Abby come home with a guy. They quickly made their way to Abby’s bedroom, trying to be quiet, but you got hyper aware of every noise. Fuck.

It hurt, and it hurt even more because you were so fucking stupid. You knew from the beginning Abby would never be interested in you because you were a girl, but the safety of your apartment where the two of you existed in your small little bubble made you delusional. 

Abby was just affectionate and touchy, and you were stupid and read it the way you wanted to read it, getting your hopes up. Stupidstupidstupid

You heard the bed creak on the other side of the wall and your throat tightened. Abby liked guys and she was having sex with a guy right now while you felt your heart crush, because you overestimated yourself and thought you could easily manage your feelings. 

The problem was that you forgot that feelings were not manageable and not something you could compromise with. You couldn’t just decide not to feel something and then actually stop feeling it. This mindset trapped you into repression and repression could only go so far, and now the fucking dam was broken. 

You were in love with Abby, and you had no chance and Caitlyn was right: you were hurting yourself. 

You didn’t cry, keeping your composure and snickering at the lack of the noise from the other side: either Abby was very quiet in bed or the sex wasn’t good. That thought made you feel better, not for any noble reason: you were hurt and you wanted Abby to not feel good too, and you didn’t really care at that moment that it wasn’t her fault.

Somehow you fell asleep, not bothered by any noise - that made you smile cruelly again - and you tried not to think about this situation and your own feelings.

Caitlyn was right, you needed a distraction. 

Abby woke up with a pleasant ache in her body and her head hurting just a little. Her bed was empty and she was relieved - she didn’t like to wake up next to someone she barely knew. 

Well, knew enough to have sex with him, but not enough to wake up next to him. Abby genuinely liked Owen - he was easy going and polite, and honestly? Maybe you were right when you said you didn’t really need to know someone to hook up with them. And hey, Abby was so touch-starved she was too touchy with you, so it seemed like a great idea yesterday. It felt like it worked - she was probably too lonely the whole time and now she was relaxed and there was no pull to go and cuddle you. It made her feel guilty - if she stopped wanting to be close to you after she hooked up then it meant she was just selfish this whole time, substituting what she actually needed with whatever she could get from you.

Yeah, she didn’t feel like a good person right now. 

Abby stood up from her bed and assessed the damage: two bruises on her inner thighs and a hickey on her collarbone, not that bad. She didn’t like when guys left marks on her - it mostly caused problems with covering up, but Owen was kinda good with not leaving marks everywhere. 

Abby put her clothes on and made her way to the bathroom when she felt her chest tighten with anxiety: not only Owen was still here, but he was talking to you. Shit. 

Abby felt bad for bringing someone home without actually discussing it with you beforehand and now you were making small talk at 11am with a guy who was supposed to leave a long time ago. 

Owen noticed Abby and smiled at her, and she smiled back. 

“Morning.” He looked down at her neck and Abby blushed a little. 

“Morning.” Abby responded and waited for Owen to come closer to her.

He put his hands on her waist and kissed her on the cheek and Abby melted a little.

“Sorry, I have to go already, but text me anytime.” Owen murmured before leaving a small peck on her lips and Abby nodded. 

Owen left and Abby went to the kitchen where you were drinking tea and looking ready for the day while Abby felt like a mess. The guilt overpowered her and she sat on the chair opposite of you.

“Sorry for yesterday, I know we haven’t discussed bringing people over.” Abby said, but you smiled at her.

“Hey, we are young and horny, can’t blame you for getting your stress relief.” You chuckled kindly, and Abby felt relieved. “He didn't seem like a total asshole.”

Abby laughed, knowing it was a pick at her standards.

“Well, just as you said, don’t really have to know him to hook up with him.”

“See, you’re learning.” You nodded your head approvingly and Abby laughed again. “Actually, while we’re still on the topic, can I bring girls over?”

“I mean, yeah, I think as long as we don’t disturb each other, everything is a fair game.” Who was Abby to deny your own needs when she literally brought a guy over?

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” You didn't look too happy right now, and it confused Abby to a degree, but she didn't ask.

What Abby didn’t know in that moment, that by giving you permission to bring girls over, she started the end of it all.

--------

To: Yoon Jiwoo

Hi! 

Would you like to grab a coffee with me?

[deathblacksmoke]

call me when you get the chance

pairing: noah sebastian x nick ruffilo x fem reader

cw: polyamorous relationship, long distance yearning, it’s pretty fluffy my friends

taglist: @concretenoah / @ladyveronikawrites / @lma1986 / @monotoniscreaming / @xxrainstorm / @agravemisstake

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future fics!

author’s note: thank you lady v once again for the beta; i added some pitt back in just for you. and thank you @darksigns-exe for the poly boyfriends brainworms. no smut in here - wild change of pace. and i’ll probably be writing more little bits of these sweet babes at some point 🤍 i got euclid on the brain so title from that, obvi. enjoy!

**************************************************************

Nick sends a postcard from every city.

Missing you from Atlanta! Love, Nicholas.

It makes you feel warm and loved, every time you open your mailbox to another card from another city, with your partner’s pretty writing on the back.

You imagine him standing in the store for ages, sifting through the cards, trying to pick the perfect one for your gallery wall. You imagine Noah picking one out as a joke, and Nick scoffing, putting it back irritated.

No, man, she’s particular about her wall. Remember?

It makes your chest swell. You long to be there, to play mediator like you do when they’re both home with you. They need it sometimes, and you’re sure Jolly could use the break every now and again.

Noah sends memes. They’re ones you would never see otherwise because you won’t step foot on Twitter, but they make you smile and remind you of him, his stupid sense of humor, and the way his face lights up when he laughs. You close your eyes and imagine it, his eyes scrunching closed with his laugh, and your chest tightens.

They always send a selfie when they get off stage, and another before bed, sometimes a FaceTime if you’re still up. They don’t show you their intertwined hands. They know it makes you jealous and weepy, but you’re so grateful that they have each other. You imagine them kissing when the call ends and you cry anyway.

***

When you couldn’t make it to the show you had all planned for, you thought that was it. Work gets in the way again, sends you out of town, but you’ll see them when they come home to you and all will be okay.

The show looks incredible. You brave social media just this once to see clips of your boys, weep in bed in your hotel room. You stay up late to see them before you sleep—they tell you they wish you were there, they miss you, they love you. You catch a glimpse of a love bite on Nick’s chest and wish it could have come from you. You fantasize about quitting your job. You get closer every day.

The postcard comes two days later, a pop-art rendition of the Pittsburgh skyline, Nick’s little note scrawled across the back. It feels silly to have but you knew he wouldn’t dare to break the tradition he’s created.

Wish you were here! Love always, your Nicholas.

You don’t know how much longer you can go without them, holding back tears as you put the card in its frame, giving it its place on the wall.

You feel helpless and hopeless until you get an email, the airline notifications you had set up on cost changes doing you a solid, for once. Flight to LAX, suspiciously affordable, landing at 2 PM on the 8th of October.

It’s not a question. You don’t think twice. You have the PTO, and your boss can’t possibly deny you again. And if they do, fuck it, you’ll really dig your heels in about them needing another girl working on the tour. You’ll get Lana on your side this time around. They can’t say no to you both.

You book the ticket, arrange a guest list spot with Matt and buzz with excitement in preparation for your surprise.

***

You never tire of watching them perform.

The way Noah owns the stage, running from stage left to stage right, commanding the crowd to chant and jump with him. Nicholas, his long hair swaying with each rock of his neck to the beat of the song. His slender fingers grip the neck of his bass as he bounces his leg, growling backing vocals going straight through you. You wish you could be at every show. You swell with pride and know you couldn’t have picked two better boys to share your life.

You head to the green room when they come back out to say their thank yous and goodbyes. You hate to miss the photo slides but you helped pick most of the photos, anyway. Lots from your private collection and you think maybe you owe some of these people a “you’re welcome.”

Sitting on the old, worn leather couch, you start to panic. You’ve never surprised them before. Noah hates surprises, but you hope at least you’re a good one.

Folio comes through the door first, followed by Jolly, and the door swings back closed. Shocked at first when they see you, Folio’s face breaks out into a huge grin before turning on his heels.

“Yo, Noah, you’re gonna wanna see this—” he yells as he swings the door back open, to reveal Nick, sweaty and looking exhausted, but when his eyes land on you—

“Holy shit,” he whispers.

You can barely make it out above the roar of noise in the hallway. You don’t know where Noah is, but Nick looks as gorgeous as you’ve ever seen him. You need to take a deep breath but find your throat stopping you as your vision starts to blur. The look on his face as he crosses the room to you melts your anxiety in an instant. You haven’t seen him in so long. And he’s here. He’s right here with you.

When he reaches you, he sinks to his knees at your feet. His fingers digging into your thigh, eyes glazed over as he looks up at you, you lean down to meet him halfway.

The feeling of his lips on yours makes you feel dizzy. The feel of the wetness on his cheeks when you cup his face makes you want to sob, but you don’t, you lick into his mouth and bask in the sound of his gasp.

“Where the fuck were you,” he speaks into your mouth when he pulls away from you.

His fingers are gripping your thigh painfully. You know you’ll bruise, you wince, but it’s Nick and you don’t care. You’ll press your fingers there when you get home and you’ll think of him and—

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was flirting with the pretty bartender. I think you’d like her, Nicky, do you think Noah will go for a fourth?”

He’s leaning in for another kiss when you hear the green room door slam back open, thundering steps getting closer and closer until Nick is jostled forward, Noah’s head resting on his shoulder, eyes focused on you.

“You were a very naughty girl, keeping this secret from us,” Noah says, his head angling to press kisses and nip at Nick’s neck. Nick grins and you watch as the hand that was digging into your thigh takes Noah’s hand and laces their fingers.

When you’re far away, it makes you jealous. When you’re right here, when you have them both in front of you, that’s the furthest thing from your mind.

When you kiss Noah and he smiles into it, when the hand not laced with Nick’s threads through your hair, when Nick nips at your neck while Noah kisses you, you’ve never felt more at home.

Because they are your home.

“Nicky let me pick your postcard this time,” Noah tells you when he pulls away.

“You’ll hate it,” Nick says, but he’s grinning as he stands up to rummage through his backpack.

When he returns to you and holds it out, it’s a silly little card, but both their names are signed this time.

Loving you from LA. Love, your Nicholas and Noah.

Noah’s grinning as wide as you’ve ever seen. It’s your favorite of the bunch.

[rogueddie]

Fluffy Steddie Fic Recs

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🎀

Steve Harrington Tears the Munson Doctrine to Shreds

Peachesandpears

Eddie had always been more than happy with the quick and dirty of Indy. He’d always been content to get his rocks off with some guy with the mutual understanding that they’d never have to see each other again. It was the beautiful symbiotic relationship of two gay dudes who would forever be a stain on the collective American moral conscious. And he loved being a stain on moral consciouses.

But Steve fucking Harrington, the goddamn bastard, is making him yearn. Tore the Munson Doctrine to shreds, the sacrilegious asshole.

Words : 8,325 Chapters : 2/2 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

Thank Our Lucky Stars (That We Can Call This Ours)

steddieeddie

A lot has happened in Steve Harrington’s life, specifically in the last six years. Too much stuff for one person to deal with, and he’s held onto it for too long.

When Robin tells him that shaving his head will help him let go, because hair holds onto bad energy? Well, he’s willing to try anything.

Words : 2,330 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

Bambi, can't you understand?

19_empty_vacancies

“Even if you can’t get the words out, Steve, there’s no disguising the way you look at him. Have always looked at him. You walk around shooting him the big eyes like you’re Gomez Addams looking at Morticia, ready to pounce.”

“Oh God, do you think he ever noticed?”

Words : 4,675 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

A King and His Poet

steviewashere

Steve makes his way to a stack of notebooks. All piled precariously on Eddie's way too cramped desk. One has a large beer stain on the cover. Another is burned in the corner from a dropped joint most likely. There's one more with an ominous yellow stain, Steve doesn't touch that one.

But there's one that catches his eye.

It's a leather bound, small journal.

Words : 1,639 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

listen to the siren's song

atimelessfiction

Corroded Coffin plays at The Hideout every Tuesday, but Steve doesn’t go because of them. He doesn’t go because of Eddie Munson, whose fingers dance over the guitar strings with such a beautiful precision that Steve sometimes wonders if he made a deal with the devil.

No, Steve doesn’t go because of a band with stupid music and a stupid band member who has stupid hair and a stupid voice. Steve goes because his friends go. 

That's the only reason.

Words : 4,512 Chapters : 2/2 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

There Is A Pleasure In The Pathless Woods

crow_of_crimes (Theyna_Shipper)

Hey, um… Do you want to go for a hike?”

If you’d asked Steve what he’d expected when he opened his door at 9am on a Wednesday in March, it wouldn’t have been Eddie, hands in his pockets, chewing on his lower lip, asking that, but somehow it doesn’t phase him.

“Sorry, this is weird,” Eddie adds before Steve can respond. He’s doing that thing where he rocks back and forth on his heels and darts his eyes everywhere, refusing to choose a single spot, like a rodent scanning his surroundings for predators. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Eddie Munson stand completely still. “Shouldn’t have just… showed up like this.”

“It’s alright, man,” Steve says, truthfully. He doesn’t get a lot of visitors alone in his parents’ huge house, except Robin, and she can’t keep him company all the time, especially now that she has her own friends. Dammit.

Words : 4,791 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Side B

Frckn

Steve keeps trying to tell Eddie he loves him, but it never feels like the right time. They keep getting interrupted, and as much as Steve loves their friends, they’re driving him crazy. All he wants is a moment alone with his boyfriend. It really feels like the world is against him.

Words : 8,153 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Can't Take My Eyes Off You

starsdontsleep

Dustin might ask him to watch DnD, but Steve attends because of Eddie.

Words : 2,241 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

At the speed of love (nothing changes faster)

Guardthenest

Somehow, Robin has talked Steve into an LGBT Speed Dating event on Valentine's Day. He's just doing it to be a good friend, he definitely does not care about finding love. Definitely not. But when it happens to sit down right across from him, who is he to say no to Cupid?

Words : 4,695 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Absolute Beginners

IntoTheStardust

Eddie asks Steve and Robin to fill in for two of his D&D members. Steve has more fun than he could have imagined.

Words : 3,488 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)

pricklywhicket

“So what you’re telling me is that you’ve never had a birthday party that was for you? No nerdy superhero themes, no dinosaur balloons, nothing?”

“Nope,” Steve replies, popping the ‘p’ in a way that Eddie just knows he’s picked up from Robin. “The last couple I’ve been too busy to even remember. So, like I said. Not a big deal, don’t make a thing out of it.”

“Oh Steve. Stevie. Babe.” Eddie’s voice has taken on a manic quality that almost always means trouble.

Words : 7,457 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

The "Friend Date" (oneshot)

jamsin_3

Steve gets stood up by a girl. Before he can make the walk of shame out of the diner, he's surprised when Eddie enters to erase Steve's humiliation. Based on that one Tumblr post about getting stood up on a blind date and a stranger swoops in to try and save the date.

Words : 3,885 Chapters : 3/3 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

A Kiss for Luck and We're on Our Way

badfanfictionaire, LittleMissKnowItAll

It’s the week of Steve and Eddie’s wedding, and boy are they ready to get hitched! Will the week fly by in a flurry of fluff and bliss, or will their emotions get the best of them?

A day-by-day fic leading up to the big day.

Words : 25,503 Chapters : 10/10 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

[nathanbatemanfucker]

summary: but it's coming down, no sound, its all around.

pairing: fem!reader x santi garcia

contents: song based fic, angst, jealousy, perceived unrequited love, best friends to lovers, love confessions, santi being a desperate simp, kissing

wc: 2k

an: yes this is a song inspired fic again bc it’s just who i am ok. listen i want them to fuck eventually but who knows if i have the bandwidth to write santi railing her into oblivion. if people really want it, let me know.

oscar characters masterlist | requests are open

“What’re you doing out here? It's cold, cariño,” He calls out to you, a healthy distance away.

He can tell that you’re brooding by the tension in your shoulders, the way you’re rocking back and forth as you stare straight ahead. He knows you better than he knows himself— possibly better than you know yourself— though he’s not sure why you’re upset in this instance. Not yet anyway.

He’s right– it is cold. Despite the extremely warm days in Miami, the nights can grow cold, especially standing on the sandy plains of a beach such as this one. You don’t bother turning around to look at Santi, continuing to stare out into the darkness of the ocean. It's stupid that you’re out here, that you feel a way about how tonight’s gone. Santi isn’t yours and the depth of your friendship, or your romantic feelings for him doesn’t change that.

There’s always a risk with bringing Santi anywhere. It’s not a deadly risk, but sometimes he looks so absorbed in someone else that it feels like your heart might give out. He’s good at it, at making someone feel like they’re the center of attention or all that matters to him.

He’s a natural flirt, so charismatic that most people don’t believe he’s been in the army or that his day job is in operations and the execution of them. People— including all of your single cousins, who have been all over him since the moment the wedding reception began. You couldn’t blame them, even if you weren’t in love with him, there’s no denying that he’s one of the most attractive men you've ever seen.

Tonight everyone is treated to a rare occasion. Santi’s in a suit; it’s black and fits him perfectly. The top two buttons of his crisp, white button-up are undone giving the most sinful view of his strong neck. His unruly curls are styled neatly for once and with the short stubble dusting his chin it's practically game over. He’s Santi, he rarely turns down showing a woman a good time– because that’s just what women deserve according to his creed– and being with your family means he’s pulled out all the stops, always trying to make a good impression.

You’ve been friends with Santi since college— you signed up to be pen pals with someone in the service. When you saw the name Santiago Garcia, you pictured some sauve man who wouldn’t give you the time of day if he’d seen you walking on the street. It made you nervous, and you didn’t send him a letter— except in a twist you never saw coming, he wrote you first.

You were correct, he was sauve— is sauve, but so incredibly charming. So understanding and playful in the short length of a single sentence. So devastatingly handsome. There was no resisting him. Your friendship with Santi unraveled parts of you that you were unaware of. The deep yearning, the lightness in your chest, the craving for adventure. With Santi by your side, whether in person or words on a page, opened a world for you. One you’re completely sure wouldn’t exist without him.

The first time you’d met six months after exchanging your first letters, you had to swallow the notion you’d been denying for months. You love him. Staring into his mischievous brown eyes, witnessing his bright smile for true and not just in the photo he’d sent you in one of his letters only solidified that. But, he’s Santi. You and Santiago… make sense as friends. And so you fake it. You fake not loving him until it’s almost believable.

“Cariño?” He calls again, breaking through the hazy thoughts of your mind.

You glance back at him for just a moment, and the smile that you flash him doesn’t touch your eyes, “Just needed some fresh air.”

“You’re gonna get a cold in this dress,” He murmurs, slipping out of his jacket as he closes the gap between you.

When he starts to drape the jacket over your shoulders, you turn to him, taking a step back, “I’ll be fine.”

The bite in your voice, the way you don’t look at him as you say it makes him realize that he’s done whatever’s put you in this state. He ignores you, wrapping you in the jacket before pulling you a little closer, dipping on his knees so that he can try to catch your gaze.

His eyes are pleading, “What’d I do? Just tell me, I’ll make it better, you know I will.”

“There’s nothing to say,” You insist stubbornly, looking down at where your feet are buried in the sand. You wiggle them, trying to do anything to distract you from this conversation you and Santi are on the cusp of. Maybe he’ll give up.

He sighs, using a finger to raise your chin so you must look at him. And when you try to pull away, his thumb grips you, holding you in place, “There’s plenty to say if you’re upset, so let’s stop playing this game, yeah?”

You fix him with an empty stare that chills him to the bone. “Fine, there’s nothing I feel like saying. Happy?”

He glares at you, tightening his grip on your chin, “Fuck, no, you know I’m not. Words. Speak. Tell me, right now, cariño.”

Getting both of your hands on his chest, you push him back gently, forcing him to let go of you. Angrily, you murmur, “Would you stop with the cariño and the puppy dog eyes, for fucks sake. Go back inside, I’m sure the girls miss you.”

Santi takes a step toward you, and he’s close enough that you instinctively take a step back— he prevents it though, grabbing you by the lapel of his jacket so you’re cemented in place. Santi’s eyes widen to an almost comical size as he realizes what’s happening.

Are you…jealous? Jealous that others would look at him, that he might be theirs. Do you want him?

“Is that what this is about?” His question is vague so as not to make a fool of himself.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m here for you.”

“I asked you to come with me, of course, you’re here for me. Not standing around while you whisk women out on the dance floor would be nice,” You grumble, fiddling with the lapel of his jacket so that you won’t have to meet his gaze.

“No, I’m here for you,” His other hand raises, cupping your freezing cold cheek.

“Don’t, please, I can’t. It’s not the same for us Santi. It’s never been the same for us,” You whisper desperately.

“You think I give a fuck about anybody in there but you? Do you? Hmm?”

You open your mouth to answer, though you’re not sure what you would say. He continues to speak, not even giving you a chance.

“You think I wore this ridiculous fucking suit to impress your cousins?”

“I…I don’t know what you mean,” You repeat, swallowing to try to rid your throat of its sudden thickness.

“You’re jealous?” He tests, too in disbelief to say it as a statement though there’s no other explanation for this.

Your mouth twitches, brow furrowing as you step back, “I am not.”

“I know when you’re lying, your mouth, it does this thing,” He says, eyes wandering your face with wonder.

Yes, you’re jealous. It thrills him— his heart pumping so loudly it drowns out the sounds of the tide.

“You’re jealous, and there’s no reason for you to be because I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, cariño. Understand?”

“What?” You whisper, taking yet another step back. You look like a wild animal, like prey looking predator in the eye, desperate for an escape route.

“I’m here for you— I need you. There’s no one else,” He murmurs, taking a slow step toward you.

“Is…is this real?” You stutter out, the fear in your voice palpable to both of you.

Slowly as not to scare you away, he takes both of your hands, pressing one to his chest, the other to his stubble-covered cheek as he gazes down at you, “Does this feel real? Do I?”

You blink rapidly at the feel of his stubble beneath your palm. It’s a new sensation, it almost tickles and his skin is warm despite the chill of the night.

“You’ve never felt real to me,” You admit quietly. “You came into my life like a shooting star, I’ve just been…”

“Yeah? What’ve you been doing?” He encourages softly.

“I’ve just been waiting for you to disappear like all shooting stars do.”

“I could never leave you, baby, don’t you get it? From the first letter…I knew. I knew,” He repeats firmly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You grumble, your hand twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

A humorless laugh leaves his throat, “You’re the most unreal thing I’ve ever had. I thought— I was afraid you would slip through my fingers. That I’d wake up and you wouldn’t be there, that this is all a dream. I don’t get things like this. I don’t deserve you. I got lucky. I’ve been waiting for you to disappear, can you believe that, cariño?”

“That could never be true. Walking away isn’t an option for me, trust me, I’ve tried to free myself from the torment that is having feelings for you.”

“Sweetheart—“

You cut him off, seeing the disbelief in his eyes, “It’s not, Santiago. It’s not, there is nothing more that I could ever want more than you. I want you so much that I can’t breathe.”

“Then I’m yours. All of me, for you.”

“This is unbelievable.”

“Believe it,” He implores, cupping both of your cheeks and pulling you closer. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation but then he stops, his mouth brushing against your cheeks as he begs for you, Let me kiss you. Please, I’ve wanted it for so fucking long, querida, let me?”

“Yes,” You breathe, trembling against him. He smells divine, like fresh linen, a soft summer breeze, and something uniquely Santi.

You allow yourself to get lost in it, to get lost in him for the first time because it’s safe. He’s right here, getting lost with you.

He presses his mouth to yours and groans, gripping your face so tightly that his hands ache. He forces himself to take a step back and let you go, chest heaving as his eyes roam your face for any evidence of discomfort.

“W-why’d you stop?” You ask the whine evident in your voice despite its breathy tone.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, kiss me again, Santi. Right now,” You demand as you bury a hand in the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.

When Santi leans in once more to kiss you, you meet him eagerly, capturing his lips in a bold move that only he could elicit from you. He falters for a moment, still in shock that this is happening before he matches your passion, one arm curling around your waist while his other hand cups the back of your head so that he can dip you.

You smile into the kiss, gripping the fabric of his shirt a little tighter on instinct as he tips you back. It's impossible to not know that Santi’s a charmer and flirt even upon first meeting him, but this is different. You can feel the way he forces himself to be delicate with you despite his hunger. All of this is as painstakingly romantic as it is cheesy, something you’d never expected despite knowing him so well.

He breaks the kiss when he feels you clutching him, nuzzling his nose against yours as he whispers, “I won’t drop you.”

There’s no doubt in your mind that his words are true. Through everything, Santi has only ever done his best to take care of you, he’s shown up for you as much as you would let him. Now that you both have been honest with each other his devotion to you will only grow sweeter and deeper.

You grin up at him, closing the small space between you to press the tenderest kiss to his mouth, “I know.”

santi taglist: @honeybrowne, @jitterbugs927, @theconsultingdoctor10, @tanzthompson, @siezethenights, @clairevoyanceee, @moonmalice, @tiffanypooh, @dearvirtualdiary-blog1, @marc-spectorr, @xbellaxcarolinax, @toracainz, @roseqzpd, @rosecentaur1916, @mccn-bcys, @hotchs-bitch, @missdictatorme

[clowncorz]

a song for you

pairing: captain john price x reader

warnings: alcohol, painful yearning and longing

notes: 'a song for you' by donny hathaway is The Song okay... also this is my first time posting a fic on here... this fic has been out for a while on my ao3 but i need to start posting on tumblr cause this is where the girlies are

        You and Price had worked together here and there, there and here... The job didn’t matter. It never mattered. All that mattered to him was that he was getting paid and he was doing some good in the world. All that mattered to you was that you were with him. That was all that ever mattered to you. He was all that mattered. It was rare when you got to spend time with him outside of work. And even then, all he would talk about was work. You felt broken, in a way. You were split into pieces. One was strictly professional, only interested in getting the job done. Another piece was desperate for the touch of a man. Another, way larger piece, was longing for him. Only him. This larger piece must have been your heart. Your heart ached for him, when you went to sleep at night and when you awoke in the morning. You longed for him. You yearned for him. 

        You decide to take a leap one night. It was all beginning to feel like too much, that pull in your chest. The pull towards him. It was like heartburn. Metaphorically and sometimes it literally felt like indigestion. He’s giving you a ride home when you pop the question. The car is freezing, or maybe not. You’re anxious, you feel like it’s freezing but you know he’s good at keeping his car at a normal temperature. You’re shaking like a dog. He looks over at you for a second, you see out of the corner of your eye. You feel like sinking into your seat. You cut him off before he even gets the chance to ask if you’re alright.

        “John,” it feels strange coming from your mouth. You never call him that. Now that you think of it, you have probably never called him that the entire time you’ve known each other. You muster up the courage to turn and look at him as he’s driving. He’s completely focused on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other hand—the one closest to you—resting on his thigh. He smiles. God, you love his smile. Oh, God, you don’t think you can do this. There’s that feeling again, burning in your chest and in your throat. You feel like you’re gonna hurl. His sweet smile, his eyes crinkle and he turns to you for a second, noticing your serious expression. 

        “Am I in trouble, miss?” Ugh. You can’t help but smile. Your face is burning, you feel like you’re smiling like an idiot. You have to look away. You can’t keep staring at him like this. Your smile falls and you look down at your hands. You feel him nudge your arm gently. “What is it? Something wrong?”

        You shake your head. “No, of course not. I just…” I love you. I need you. I want to be with you. Not a day goes by where I’m not thinking about what it would be like to wake up in your arms. “Do you wanna go for a drink?”

        He chuckles. You swallow so hard that you have to squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Like a child trying to get a pill down. Your face feels so hot, your chest feels hot, your fingertips are tingling. He takes a wrong turn, or… What you think is a wrong turn. But he pulls the car over. As it slows to a stop, you wonder what it would be like if he just took you right there in the backseat. You blink, remembering that this is reality. To your left is a bustling bar. Well, there’s a bustling club. Next to it, is a bar. Where twenty-somethings are being kicked out and tripping over their feet. Before you can realize what’s happening, your door opens. You think, God, I must be dreaming. But no, if it was a dream, he’d hold his hand out for you and oh God, he’s doing it. He holds his hand out, waiting for you to take it. You take too long. 

       “Fine then, have it your way.” He has that little smile painted on his stupid fucking face as he raises his arms in surrender. You huff, climbing out of the car. You feel like you can’t breathe, your body is so warm that you aren’t even phased by the brisk air of the night. He walks ahead of you, making a beeline to the bar. You look over at the club and think about how you should be there, with people your age. But you turn your attention to Price, who is being as gentlemanly as always and holding the door open for you. You can’t help but smile, you follow him into the bar. 

      The music that’s playing is quiet, you immediately recognize that it’s older music. Stuff your parents used to listen to. There’s a man with grey hair whose head is buried into the bar counter, he has a glass of whiskey in his hand, you swear you can hear him snoring. The bar is made up of different types of woods. If you asked someone to picture a bar, this is what it would look like. The way Price interacts with the environment—and the people in it—tells you he’s been here before. More than once. You both pull a seat up at the bar, he orders a beer for himself and an iced tea for you—he knows you don’t drink. Why does he know that? Have you ever told him that? You can’t even remember. You can feel something inside your chest tugging you towards him but you know you can’t get any closer. If you did, you’d be in his arms. God, you’d love to close the gap. You feel like crying. You’ve felt like crying this entire time. For months. His knee is touching yours, his fucking knee is touching yours. You watch him carefully as he takes a drink. Your eyes following his hands wrapped around the glass bottle, your mind wanders. You feel like you suddenly feel like you’ve got superhuman senses—a microscopic droplet of beer dribbles down his chin, through the hair there. He says something, you know that because you’re watching his mouth. You don’t know what he says. You feel something on your knee. His hand. Oh fuck. 

         “Is something bothering you?” Yes. Yes. Fucking yes! You shake your head. Think of something. Quick. Jesus fucking Christ! 

         “Been distracted lately.” You say, looking down. He’s already moved his hand away from your leg. 

          He chuckles again. “Might need something a little stronger than iced tea, hm?” 

          You nod. He says something to the bartender, you don’t bother paying attention. Part of you feels embarrassed. Embarrassed that you got yourself in this situation with your fucking coworker. You’re ashamed to be feeling this way, There’s no way it’d even work. He’s like, twenty years older than you. The bartender places a drink in front of you, you look at Price. 

       “You’ll like it, trust me.” He takes another drink. 

        You take a sip of your drink. He’s right. You were never much of a drinker, so you’re unsure of the customs when it comes to drinking at a bar. But by his reaction when you take a bigger sip, you know you’ve made the wrong move. He laughs, which makes you laugh. Suddenly, you’re at ease. He’s smiling at you. Before you know it, you’ve downed your first drink and you’re back to your simple iced tea—you have a nice buzz going and Price is on his… Well, you’re unsure of the number of beers he’s had because you’ve only been paying attention to his lips as he takes a swig.  

        “Ah… Fuckin’ love this song…” He says. If you were a dog, your ears would perk up as you listen to the song. You’ve heard it before—from your parents. You remember. You watch his reaction, his cheeks are flushed slightly, you know he’s a bit more inebriated than you are. His eyes are closed, he’s really into the song, his fist is clenched slightly as he moves his head. Suddenly, he nods, dropping his hand to the counter. He looks at you and leans in a bit closer. “Dance with me, yeah?” 

        “Okay.” You nod, allowing him to take your hand and drag you to the empty space near the jukebox. You can’t help but giggle as he takes you in his arms and starts to dance with you. Sloppily, but it’s sweet. He holds you delicately and the both of you are smiling brightly as he starts to sing to you. He pulls you closer to him and that tugging in your chest is slack. You let out a sigh of relief. This is what you needed. This is what you’ve been craving. Not just from anyone. Him. This is what you needed with him. 

       You feel a familiar tingling in your sinuses, your tear ducts getting a bit itchy as your head rests on his chest. He’s humming along to the song and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Don’t cry. Do not fucking cry. He starts to caress your hair and you feel a tear slide down your cheek. You listen to his humming through the rumbling in his chest, he’s petting your hair softly. You’re crying. You have never felt such a rush of emotion in your life. He sways with you in his arms, singing a beautiful song to you. A song he loves. He knows you’re crying, you think. That’s why he pulled you in so close. No other reason. It doesn’t matter, though. This is everything you needed. This is all you need. To be his. 

[sukunafuka]

Suka give us a list of ur nastiest kinks and fantasies, vanilla be damned

18+ ONLY NSFW

(ALL OF THESE ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND I JUST LIKE TO READ ABOUT THEM. I DO NOT WANT THEM IRL)

i fear there are too many to list properly but i’ll try🫶🏻 all of my fics are literally just my kinks hidden behind writing lmaoo but there is a lot of stuff i haven’t delved into yet. in spite of potentially leaving some out on accident, i’ll give you a few off the top of my head:

a huge one for me will always be somno (take one look at my fics😔)

dad’s best friend (at least 20 yrs older than you) who knows it’s morally wrong to want his friend’s daughter who’s in her 20s and has to be convinced over YEARS to even touch her makes me DROOL(daddy issues lol) this can be classified as age gap right?

exhibitionism will always make me kick my feet, something about the humiliation and the control aspect of it. (ie: guy shoving his hand into your pants sitting beside you at dinner and keeping a straight face as he rubs at your clit) 🤤 being fucked on a train around a bunch of people who have no idea has always excited me too

i (usually) won’t read a fic that has cheating in it because it just doesn’t rly do it for me but the idea of dating an older man and his son is around your age and he can’t help but wanna fuck you, is so jealous of his dad, talks to his friends about what they think your pussy looks like/ just stupid locker room talk is so hot for what???? (my megumi and toji fic is literally one of my favorite things i’ve written) idk what this is classified as in the kink world- maybe cuckolding??

virgin!!!!! i don’t think it’s overdone at all, you just have to be able to write it creatively and make it stand out from the usual virgin fics (not easy to do). at risk of sounding like a middle aged dude who fucks virgins as sport (toji? lol) i really love the idea of feeling something good for the first time with someone you love and the potential embarrassing moments that can occur during the act. showing a virgin how new things can feel too is so sweet and alluring (choso fic about this has been in my head since i started tumblr lol just haven’t finished that fic) also love the implication that they don’t want to have sexual relations with someone unless they are in love since they’re in their 20s and still a virgin<3 so sweet

i’m a certified monster fucker😔 BIG FAT DICK and SMOLL HUMAN. lol. love the idea of monster looking at his dick and then at you and being like ‘… i don’t think this’ll work’ LOLOL he doesn’t wanna hurt you🥹also love the fact that they’re not conditioned by our stupid society. like your insecurities don’t even matter with him because he’s literally a monster who accepts and loves you without question, not even a thought in his mind, whereas human men have subconscious and conscious standards for women because of media/what they’re told. body hair, tightness, body image, etc.

controversial but i love stepcest, the idea of knowing it has to be a secret and it’s ‘wrong’ but the yearning for one another is so intense that you can’t resist?? like damn they want eachother that badly. the potential funny moments that can be weaved into a fic about this is so entertaining too. being secretive in general and sneaking around has always been hot as well. something about a step brother who you laugh with, who protects you from bullies, who gets annoyed with you, who you hated when you first met but warmed up to, who you hangout in his room even when he says to get out because you’re annoying, who you give dirty looks to the girls he brings around, who you sometimes sleep in his room because you had a nightmare and he begrudgingly lets you but puts pillows between you with annoyance because you ‘kick in your sleep.’ idk, it’s the way you can be yourself with them, and they love you all the same. (i have issues)

professor/student yes pls. (only college student and professor). again, it’s secretive. makes you feel like reader is just special and he can’t resist. the power dynamic 🫦the yearning, the slowburn, the idea of him teaching you something and being happy when you understand it or get a good grade. them being proud of you and patting you on the head platonically but you’re suddenly throbbing in your panties. slowly convincing him that it’s okay and that no one will know. hottt

bully is too good.(hello sukuna!) he’s so mean and even pushes you physically sometimes against walls or to the floor, spills things all over you, humiliates you in front of everyone, calls you names, makes sure you know that he’s in charge. but he never lets anyone else bully you, you’re his and he protects you like you’re his pet. eventually he realizes that he likes you and he’ll never admit it verbally but he starts to do nice things hidden behind mean words. real enemies to lovers. ultimate slow burn. think it can be really intense if done right. so dominant!!

a few more without explanations: slapping during sex, spitting, choking, overstimulation, mask play, predator/prey, hybrid, etc.

[lorepossum]

“Because I want you… I want you so badly…”

I haven’t finished Matador Gothic yet (been busy and I wanna give it the attention it deserves) but this line specifically has STUCK in my brain. Like no joke it’s been three days and I keep going back to this moment at the end of episode five.

One of my biggest gripes with certain asmr series is how quick the love interests are to say “i love you”. Sometimes it’s because the writer decides to imply more history than we’ve seen other times its just because well… frankly writers just jump the gun. That’s not to say everything has to be slowburn and that people cant fall for each other fast but I ADORE the way this scene plays out. Proves once again how good Escaped is at writing romance because GOD this- THIS-!

You don’t need a love confession to write yearning. In fact if Alfonso had flat out said “I love you” here I would have thought it out of character. Real love is built slowly, Alfonso and his listener have known each other for maybe a week at this point. Alfonso is young, but also not stupid. He’s also never done this kind of thing before. Sure he can tell his dad that he might love a girl but speculation to a dead man and actually admitting it for real are different things, The emotions are high and he thinks he’s going to have to kill the first girl he’s ever had real complex feelings for. But it’s not like he’s had time to unpack those feelings. So what does he say?

“I want you.”

God, it’s so real and visceral, raw and messy and so fucking human and PERFECT.

And sure in a worse written thing this would be the love confession. The music would be sweeping and the dialogue would be overdramatic and the gravity of it would be unearned. If that’s your cup of tea fine. But this series (despite its fantastical monsters and group of fancy Spaniard vampire hunters) is so grounded and human for the fact that it DOESN’T have a love confession here. It has something better and more human. The depth of what’s IMPLIED by what Alfonso says instead is just so much more juicy.

[sankttealeaf]

c & y for ruetash maybe? 👀

hehe ty for these >:3 answering these nsfw questions below the cut !

C = Cum (where does your muse prefer to cum/have someone cum)

rue prefers it literally anywhere but inside her. absolutely no risk of pregnancy (there is stupid girl u guys arent being safe at ALL) it's easier to clean up, too. but sometimes in the heat of the moment gortash hasnt asked her where she wants him and she's busy thinking about how long she'll need to pray after this to tell him where to finish so... accidents happen?

gortash...? oh nooooo he's so into the groove of things and happens to finish inside her oh what a shaaaaaame. he doesnt respect her choice at all. will use the excuse of "oh its fine. nothing will happen" however... bane gives him a high five after it sooooo 🤷‍♀️ smth smth taming a bhaalspawn smth having one in his control smth seeing her as a weapon rather than a person. also a fuck you to bhaal too. haha bhaal i am banging your daughter

(at some point during it rue ruins the mood by telling him to "fill her with his banite seed" so they can "have stupid banite babies" and she will "kill them all as an offering to bhaal". gort does not appreciate it. keeps doing it to spite her.)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

high. these guys just need to look at each other and they're in the mood. its fine pre-tadpole when theyre alone because no one can really see or judge them for making out in dark rooms.

but when they meet up again after rue comes back and she's drawn to the guy she should be killing? now thats a problem. (nothing happens further than a bit of kissing / heavy petting but still. the threat is there)

for someone who dislikes physical touch, she sure does enjoy gortash touching her

[thelampisaflashlight]

Blue

[Dew deals with a wave of unwelcome emotions, but takes comfort in the company of a friend. Discusses grief and the death of a parent/parents with hints at past neglect/emotional abuse. It’s a rough one, but with a fairly positive/lighthearted ending. AKA, I hurt Dew, but I also give him some comfort.]

Dew hates the word “grief”, the rough sound of it, the way it seems keen on rhyming with something it’s not and never will be.

Brief.

Over the years, Dew has learned that grieving is not a linear process, it does not start and stop at a set time.

Nor does it, necessarily, fade.

Sometimes it’s lighter, easier to bear, pushed aside or drowned out by life.

And other times...

Dew can go a couple days without thinking of them.

Of his parents, of Mist.

But they’re always somewhere in the back of his mind.

The father who never loved him, who might still be alive but wouldn’t know his son from anyone else.

The mother who wanted him to be anyone but himself, who screamed and cried and blamed and hurt-

And Mist.

Mist hadn’t been gentle or sweet, but she had been honest, and she had been accepting in ways others had not.

His feelings towards her had always been... complicated.

Somewhere between admiration and adoration.

He yearned for her almost as much as he yearned to be her at times.

But it’s not her he’s mourning today.

It’s his mom.

And he hates it.

He hates that he has this tug in his heart, this want to be able to pick up a phone and just call her.

But he can’t.

And more than that, he hates the reason why he wants to talk to her.

It’s so stupid, so fucking mundane and small.

He doesn’t...

He doesn’t know what her favorite color is.

Was.

Whatever.

It shouldn’t be a big deal, it should just be another thing on the long ass fucking list of shit he doesn’t NEED to know or care about, because fuck that woman and everything she ever cared about...

...But it hurts.

It hurts, because he’ll never have the answer.

He’ll never have a solid resolution, and it’s just another reminder of just how much unresolved bullshit that bitch left behind when she-

His face feels hot, and he has to pinch his eyes shut as tears start to leak from them uncomfortably.

It pisses him off.

He’s so mad he wants to scream, but instead of a powerful, rage filled yell, the sound that comes out is more...

Pained.

Vulnerable.

Weirdly human.

And that only makes him feel worse.

So he curls into himself just a bit.

Enough so that his face is hidden between his knees and he’s certain nobody passing by can see him crying.

And that’s exactly the position Aether finds him in not long after.

Eyes still stinging.

Frustrated.

Angry.

And still so fucking-

Sad.

Aether doesn’t call out to him at first, doesn’t ask if he’s okay, because he knows by now that’s not what Dew wants or needs to hear when he’s like this.

Instead, Aether sits down beside him, slides his leg over to meet the side of Dew’s.

No hands keeping him there.

Minimal contact.

But a constant, steady warmth to let him know he’s not alone without making him feel trapped.

And they stay like that.

For half an hour, maybe a bit more.

Until Dew painfully unfolds himself, just enough to shove his face against Aether’s shoulder, still too uneasy to be held, but present enough to rub the crust from his nose onto the other’s shirt.

“Gross.” Aether hums, no heat or annoyance to his voice.

Dew presses his face in harder and rubs again.

“You wanna stop using me like a tissue and talk about it yet?” he asks, almost laughing when Dew pauses his aggressive wiping to think.

“...It’s kind of stupid.” Dew says, eyes beginning to water anew, voice breaking slightly, sitting his chin on the larger ghoul’s shoulder.

Aether tilts his head to meet the top of Dew’s.

“Stupid like Swiss trying to put out his burning toast in the toaster using water, or stupid like... complicated?”

Dew lifts his hands and then lowers them, sighing.

“...Stupid like... I miss somebody I hate for a stupid reason.”

Aether nuzzles his cheek against Dew’s hair.

“I wasn’t... I was just thinking about random shit, and I thought about... that I don’t...” he breathes softly, “...I got worked up because I don’t know what my mother’s favorite color was, and it pisses me off that I won’t ever get to know, even though I hate her.”

“I hate her so much, and the only fucking thing I can think of right now is that I don’t even know her favorite color...”

“Well... I like green.” Aether offers, carefully bringing a hand up to rub Dew’s back soothingly, “And Rain likes orange... Copia likes red, which feels a little obvious, but yeah...”

Dew blinks, “What?”

“You said you couldn’t think of anything else, so... we’re gonna make a list of things you do know, yeah?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, okay, let’s... let’s do that.” Dew furrows his brow, “Sunshine likes pink...”

Aether nods, “And yellow.”

“Strawberry lemonade colors...” Dew snorts.

“...Which also happens to be who’s favorite drink?”

“Swiss.” Dew mumbles, “He pretends like he doesn’t like it because it’s sweet, but he always pours two more sugar packets into his glass when nobody’s looking-”

[miss-tc-nova]

After Running Away - Leona x Jamil

Well hello again @completeanduttermess​

Okay so...of course I had to finish this before June ended so, yay! Happy pride month! Second, oh my god, I’m so sorry this is so bad. I may have had free time, so my brain decided all work was out of the question. It was either this or the pet!au that was getting way out of hand and almost not LeoJami at all. 

Anyway, this is meant to be in the era after The Lives We Want. 

~~~~~~

Leona & Jamil After Running Away

In the beginning, it’s rough.

Mostly for Leona.

Big Kitty may have been shunned by his kingdom, but he was still a prince. He still had people looking after him and doing all the grunt work for him.

He can’t do that now.

Well, he probably could. Jamil would probably do it, but then the desert native would be living the same life Leona just saved him from.

So, even if he grumbles and moans the whole time, Leona is going to do his own chores with his own hands. Or at least try.

Jamil has to save him.

It’s terribly awkward for him to watch Leona try to cook or wash clothes. The lion could barely dye his own hair after all.

Leona is smart and talented and could probably easily survive on his own. But for the life of him the man cannot navigate a kitchen.

So Jamil does often end up with those chores, but Leona always watches carefully. He’s observing and taking the process in. And it’ll be soon enough that he’ll knock Jamil’s socks off with a curry he made himself.

Jamil is faring a bit better at this new life. But he still has a lot of anxiety.

Every bit of him is nervous that someone is going to recognize him. Or recognize Leona. And when that happens, Leona might be punished. And Jamil’s family might be punished. All the consequences of a single slip up plague his thoughts.

Those nerves often come out in his overplanning. He starts mapping out their next stop, the sights they’ll see and the places they’ll stay, but in an excessive way—like down to the minute. He’s scarily accurate. Sometimes, he unpacks the bags to take stock of their supplies, check their cash, and mend any clothes.

The worst is when he starts making contingency plans. That’s when the paranoia really starts to win. He’s rehearsed in his head what he’d say to anyone who asks who he is and if they’ve seen him on the news. He’s even thought about what he’d do if anyone tried to detain Leona for this whole thing.

While it may all look normal on the outside, Leona is very aware when Jamil is stressing. And in those times, Leona does what Leona does best.

Annoy Jamil.

Sometimes it’s literally laying on top of Jamil’s focused task, sometimes it’s sitting nearby to poke him, sometimes it’s throwing random things at him (like socks and pillows and wadded paper), and sometimes it’s picking the snake up to haul him off. Somehow, this stupid “pay attention to me” tactic always work. Jamil does pay attention to him and that gives Leona all the leverage he needs to be a distraction.

Because Jamil knows that, no matter what happens, they’re in this mess together. Surely their two bright minds could get them out of any situation.

Aside from Jamil’s anxieties and Leona’s lack of daily living skills, these two are having the time of their lives!!!

Leona doesn’t feel the eyes of everyone comparing him to his brother. He didn’t realize just how much of a weight that was.

And there’s no pressure of “royal appearances.” He can be as “slob” as he wants…if Jamil lets him. Well, maybe he cares about his appearance a little, but it doesn’t have to be annoying anymore.

And Jamil gets to do whatever the fuck he wants! He gets to say “no” when he doesn’t want to do something. He gets to do whatever he wants. And he gets to show off, so long as no one recognizes him.

Though part of him might yearn for the world to recognize him, Jamil is rational. Besides, it’s more than enough for him if only Leona sees him.

At first, they visited some small places, trying to keep a low profile while the world was on the lookout for them.

But as time went on and their faces faded from the news, they got see the rest of the world.

They’ve seen the inside of many motels and Airbnbs. But they’ve also spent nights under the stars. Lying on grass, saying stupid stuff and laughing at nothing until they fall asleep. Those are probably their favorite moments.

They have acquired a broom. It’s the fastest, and really only way, for them to get around. They may have money, but rentals, taxis, and tickets add up. And brooms run on magic, which is free. It also makes the quickest escape if necessary.

And sometimes, just floating on by is peaceful enough for them.

Mostly Jamil is in charge of where they go. Sometimes Leona will put in his opinion on where to go, but mostly, he has no opinion and just lets Jamil choose.

As they approach each new destination, the excitement tends to spark in Little Snake. His demeanor lightens and usually there’s a smile on his face. Leona almost always catches himself staring—maybe smiling a bit too.

Leona actually stares a lot. He gets a bit of second-hand excitement watching Jamil. That and just watching his sweetheart makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But he’ll never admit that. It one of the things that Jamil teases him about.

But honestly, how could he ever stop himself when all the wonder of the world sparks in those gorgeous eyes.

Though there’s a lot of cooking, there’s also frequently the taste-testing of local cuisine. It gets a little interesting considering Leona’s picky pallet but they enjoy taking a break and sharing something new. When he finds something he likes, Jamil analyzes the flavors, wondering if he could easily recreate it.

Though there’s plenty of money from Leona’s savings for now, Jamil keeps an eye out for little odd jobs as they walk through. Things like helping load or unload trucks, delivery across town—just little things to make a quick buck. Leona grumbles as he pulls his weight.

Despite enjoying the travelling, sometimes they talk about settling down somewhere. In fact, as they travel, they talk about the pros and cons of living in the location they’re in. There’s a small list on the places they’d want to live, but both of them agree that it’s going to be a few years before they think about that.

For now, it’s just enjoying their newfound freedom and enjoying each other’s company.

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[aachria]

YOOOOO IM GOING TO COLLAGE SOON. (Venting post to you pooks) Scared af but is it safe to say you're like, a lil older then me and that has me gawking cause what😀, all this time i kinda subconciously think that you're a young adult(ik you're in collage but brain is a weird thing) but turns out noooooo we're probably one or two years apart.

Point is, you made such a jaw dropping stomach clutching fanfiction of the year and is so much better then actual book writers?? At a young age too!(no hate to them but hear me out, some gives me the ick dont @ me🙏) You give online classes boo? Cause im boutta sign tf up. My writing needs upgrades.

Good day😘

Y’all please don’t remind me I’m getting old I never mentally got past 16 😭

Would it make you feel better or worse to know I did a gap year (kinda, I did an extra semester of high school after grad because I thought it would be fun then worked the rest).

We’re in this together pooks I’m going back to college in a new program with like TWO people I know so I am afraid again. But be for real college is only scary until like the second week when you have some idiot who wants to be your friend to make faces at whenever your profs say something fucking stupid. You’ll be fine babe it becomes more annoying than scary and then you’ll feel goofy for stressing abt it. I BELIEVE IS US WE GOT THIS!!!

No but fr sometimes I read stuff by published authors then I go read something I’ve written and I’m like oh… how did… now how did that…

But like slay good for them scamming the system and getting paid for it they’re my hero’s ✨✨

Only writing advice I got to my name is be funny always, use commas and dashes like vanilla extract in baking, don’t be afraid to have your characters be stupid and fuck things up, if you can emotionally invest people sucker punching them in the gut is 10x easier and 10x more painful, and NOTHING is sexier than devotion and yearning. NOTHING. Also foreshadow everything. Trust me on that one, even if you don’t know what you’re foreshadowing, FORESHADOW IT. No idea what your next big reveal should be? Go build the entire thing around an offhand comment someone made in the beginning. It’ll be so funny do it.

Shit guess I do have advice. Damn how did that happen???

[ofcoffee-andletters]

FFXIV Write day 28 - Deleterious

WoLG'raha - Toxic edition Middle of Endwalker

Deleterious : harmful often in a subtle or unexpected way

———————

My inspiration.

That’s what he had been called, once, and then a few more times after. Sometimes he would stare at the source of those words from afar, look at him smile and be a bit shy, do his best to try to fit with what he considers some of the best people he could’ve found.

Heroes all of them.

And then those crimson eyes find him, and he can’t stand his devoted look, the amount of love and admiration he finds within that gaze.

So he grumbles and walks away.

————

It is never lost on him how G’raha yearns to accompany him everywhere, how he is always ready for anything as long as he goes along.

Sometimes he wonders what would it take for the other man to realize that he is not what he pictures, what he refuses to see, what he keeps painting over with his idealistic dreams and a hundred years of idealization — he never ends up acting on those impulses because he does not want to hurt him.

Far from it.

Which is more the reason why every single interaction with him kills him inside, slowly.

——————

They fight — a lot.

It all started because of a passing comment while he was recovering still, another scolding, a joking one and yet it had been the last straw.

Screaming came, and then unsaid grievances came, yelling and grabbing each other with the need to make the other understand and stop being so fucking stupid.

And there’s no hiding it, as much as he wants to run away from the truth, he knows the reality — as much as he hates how their relationship seems to advance, he knows he does nothing to stop it. Because he likes this.

It hurts.

Every word of devotion, the willingness to die for him, the readiness to claim he is a Hero. The pressure that he is the inspiration, the reason G’raha endured for a hundred years, and yet he cannot be, truly, what the other man wants and needs. He is not the Hero who died fighting, he is not the Hero who had songs and myths made for him in a distant cold and bleak future.

He is just himself.

And when he finds G’raha again, after yet another fight — he wants to yell at him, be angry, demand that he stop putting him on a pedestal he doesn’t want to be. To stop looking at him like he has answers to everything, like he can stop whatever the world, the fate, the entire Universe throws at them.

“…You’re a fucking idiot.” The Warrior of Light can’t stop himself and he makes G’raha wince and then frown, but before he can even complain, Brucie has already grabbed him by the clothes.

There’s a hug, so tight, using way too much strength to the point he worries he may hurt G’raha but…but… “You’re my idiot, though…so I guess this is just my lot now…”

The other miqo’te sighs, his eyes are closed and he hugs his inspiration back, “One day you could try to not attack me on sight…”

“…That is never going to happen, and you know that…I love you, but you’re infuriating, and annoying. And…” G’raha pushes Brucie away, softly. “What?”

“…You’re also an idiot.”

They both stare at each other, and then they laugh softly, because this is stupid. This is childish to a point — and unhealthy. They don’t talk about their actual issues, they don’t touch the root of the problem.

They just accept that they both use the other, as much as the other might want to deny or claim that…well, that was never the intention. But somehow they work. They fit. They’re not fine and it will be a long time before they’re fine — and maybe, that day…

They can truly love the other for who they are and not the shadow of what they yearn for.