#the first chapter is the shortest

[muzzlemouths]

lol. lmao. i'm actually getting this chapter out today huh

[redux-iterum]

[crimescrimson]

The Tower Interior in Resident Evil: Revelations 2 (2015)

[pixellangel]

one day mg:gr will be done and people can make stuff about it instead of me just imagining animatics of my own game

[asummersday]

it doesnt have to be good, it just has to be written. it doesnt have to be good, it just has to be written. it doesnt have to be good, it just has to be written. it doesnt have to be good, it just has to be written. it doesnt have to be good, it just has to be written. it doesnt have to be good, it just has to be written. it doesnt have to be good, it just has to be written. it doesnt ha--

[auberginenikki]

My man dies in a fire... transmigrate to a world where he gets tortured in a giant toaster???

[piosplayhouse]

All are shit because there's no horses . Fuck it all #emo ..

What's the best MXTX novel?

I might try my hand at reading one of MXTX's lengthy ass novels but I'm curious to know which one people think is the best? Put aside any other adaptations like dramas or comics or animation...just the novel

[fieldsofview]

Not me going to edit ch 8 and accidentally adding 1500 new words and a whole ass scene without actually editing the existing chapter's stuff...

I guess I know what I'm doing tomorrow

[tyrannuspitch]

the individual chapter i'm working on for my cyoa may end up longer than the shortest complete path through this story currently is. hmmm.

[kitten4sannie]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝟏 - 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐞

pairing: mafia! ot8 x undercover officer! reader (fem)

genre: mafia/organized crime au, drama, angst

w.c: 3.3k

ch. summary: after countless months of preparation and ensuing anxiety, you finally revisit the infamous Black Pirates, but from the other side of the law, and it’s almost as if you’ve never left.

ch. warnings: not too many….uhhh very light depictions of violence, a bit of blood, a bit of manhandling (not the sexy kind), mingi is unhinged (?) and has a gun lmao, no smut this time but just you waittttt

a/n: hi thereeeee i cannot tell you how excited i am to share this with you all 🥹 this is my first mini series and i’ve never tackled anything this big before so please be patient with me when it comes to updates~~ (also this chapter will be the shortest of them all given it’s the intro hehe) but aaaaaaa i’m so happy we can go on this journey together >w< now sit back, relax, and enjoy ~ and if you like, please pleasee share your thoughts and feedback with me <33

song rec: scene 1 - value ~ ateez, concrete jungle ~ bad omens

fic masterlist

“Are you ready for this?” 

All you could hear was your heart thumping inside your ears, unable to focus on your Commander in Chief’s loaded question, tuning into the sounds of keyboard tapping and faceless chattering about the current crimes and cases that were plugging up the figurative drain of your local prescient, rather than what he was saying to you. Were you ready to infiltrate one of the most prevalent crime families your law enforcement agency has come to know and loathe over the better part of the year? Not as their friend, but this time, as an enemy? They had half your city in the palm of their hands and were itching to take it over, pushing the drug and gun trade into overdrive, washing countless loads of dirty dollar bills, and in turn, leaving you and your agency to clean up the mess they left behind — and what a mess they always made. Bullets, bodies, and broken dreams. Crime and punishment. Officers, regulations, and yellow tape. An endless game of chess that nobody ever seemed to win. The perpetrators of this game, their faces never left your mind, etching their likeness inside the grooves of your memory even after being away from them all for so long, at least, until now — if you stopped being such a goddamn pussy and answered your boss. 

“Y/N…? You can back out if you need to…” He gave you an apologetic smile. “Given your history, I know it might be a lot on you. We can always put somebody else in instead.” 

“No..!” you suddenly protested, bringing a closed fist near your mouth as you forcefully cleared your throat. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve been preparing myself for this since you helped me…change course and join the academy.” Realizing you were digging your nails into your palms, you relaxed your grip, leaving red idents behind. “And, of course, when we realized what the Kim Estate was actually doing behind closed doors.”

“It certainly wasn’t tennis,” the seasoned man chuckled softly, leaning back slightly inside his fraying office chair, rubbing at his eyes from underneath his reading glasses, not aware of how prominent his eye bags were becoming. He let out a small sigh. “Y/N, I have a lot of trust in you. Going back into that world as an undercover operative is not a walk in the park under any circumstances, but this��they have proven to be unpredictable. I’ll ask you once more. Are you sure you can handle this case?” 

In all honesty, you were never too sure what you could handle, both in your professional and personal life, but the uncertainty never stopped you from diving in headfirst. And this, this case, being one of the dominos that would knock them all down, well…it was simply too delicious to pass up. 

You stood up, bowing your head to your superior, before giving him a knowing nod. “I’m ready, sir.” 

-

Your closest friend back in your police academy days and fellow undercover partner, Yeonjun, was the first person you spotted upon exiting your boss’ office, well, specifically his bright red hair, slowly navigating past the maze of desks and whispering coworkers to make it over to him, privy to the looks some of them gave you as you slipped past them — though it didn’t phase you anymore. Your past did not define you. At least, that’s what your therapist had been telling you the past few years. 

“Hey, partner,” Yeonjun greeted you with a smile, reaching out to hand you a paper cup full of freshly steeped coffee, leaning back to sit down on the crowded surface of his desk. “Tomorrow’s the big day. You ready?” 

You took the steaming cup, your jaw tensing as the bitter liquid hit your tastebuds. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Choi.” You always thought of someone else when you uttered that surname. He was the complete opposite of your partner here: calm and collected, soulless when he wanted to be and full of love the very next moment, ticking back between the two like a malfunctioning metronome. You hated him for it. 

“Hey, it’s just Yeon, now. Come tomorrow, I won’t be my normal sexy self.” He pulled his freshly printed fake ID out of his t-shirt pocket and held it up to your face, replicating the toothy smile he had inside the picture. “Well, still sexy, yeah?” 

Chuckling, you leaned in, studying the fake ID, impressed by how real it looked. “Very sexy, Yeon, but remind me why you dyed your hair red? Is it the quarter life crisis settling in?” 

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, tucking his ID back into his pocket. “Ha-ha, funny. I just thought I should look the part if I’m going in as some renowned hacker.” 

You pushed a few files out of the way to lean against Yeonjun’s desk beside him. “Have you been studying up on your skills then?” 

“Of course, I have. I know I joke around a lot, but I’ve  dedicated my life to this, Y/N…” 

You looked down at Yeonjun’s hand, the one that rested on the desk in between you, his fingers drumming against the surface. “Good, because they don’t play around…”

The drumming stopped. Yeonjun turned his head to look at you, a flicker of light inside his brown eyes, like he was trying to understand you. “Do you…ever think about your life before the academy? Before this? Do you wish you could go back?” 

You bit into your lip, gazing past Yeonjun’s hand at one of the files that contained information about the very people you would be betraying. “I…just want to be good. Do what’s right…That’s why I left all of that. It’s why I’m here now.” 

He leaned over slightly until his shoulder pressed into yours, using his pinky to nudge at yours. “Not many would do what you’ve done, y’know. Giving up their way of life for something like this.” 

You nudged back, staring into the half empty cup of coffee you were still holding onto. “Not many people are this stupid.” 

“Not stupid.” Yeonjun pretended to clink his empty paper cup against yours, giving you a soft smile. “Brave. You’re the key component of this entire operation, Y/N. That’s huge. You’ll make a difference. Isn’t that what this is all about?” 

“Maybe…you’re right,” you replied softly, once again distracted by the folder from before, the one that was slightly open just enough to reveal the image of a man with slick back hair, dressed in quaint Victorian style clothes, with a big bow wrapped around his neck. Kim Hongjoong, owner of the Kim Estate and leader of the Black Pirate Organization. You knew him all too well, and all his closest cohorts. Would they recognize you? You hadn’t seen them since you were a young girl, forgotten by most and lost inside a system that didn’t care about you, except for the ambitious young man that swore he would one day be sat atop his ivory tower with those that followed his path. And now there he was, living the high life inside his big shiny mansion, sipping on fine wine, while you were still forcing down bitter instant coffee day after day, surrounded by people that looked at you, but never really saw you for what you were, whatever that was. Maybe Hongjoong knew. 

“Y/N…? You’re staring off into space again…” Yeonjun whispered near you, getting up from the desk once you came back to Earth. “Anyways, it’s late, and we have a lot to do tomorrow. We should get going.” 

“You’re right, we need as much rest as we can get.” You stretched out your legs before standing back up, just now noticing that you were the only two left inside the workspace, the light from your Chief’s office still peeking out past the dusty blinds. Maybe your Chief knew. 

Packing up your briefcase, you smiled at Yeonjun. “Should I dye my hair too?” 

Yeonjun pouted, resting his own briefcase against his hip. “That’s my thing.” 

-

Particles of dust and dirt filled your lungs, joining the blood that you began to choke on. It hurt to breathe, but your body carried on supplying oxygen to your lungs, not giving you a choice in the matter. You rolled over onto your back to face the night sky, your teary eyes focusing on the twinkling stars and the bright blue moon that loomed over the town, storm clouds rolling past until they blocked out the pretty view. Heavy rain began to pour down, soaking you to the bone. Even though you were losing the will to live, you still held onto the silver pair of scissors that you used to prove a point, even though it might’ve cost you your life. That was still something. However, your dear mentor still stood over you, his neck being clutched tightly by his trembling fingers, crimson slowly slipping past them. 

“See what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you? Ungrateful brat,” he choked out in between shallow breaths. Frustrated, he let out a gurgled growl, tossing his bloodied shank onto the dirt road beside his feet. You could’ve sworn you saw tears slip down his flushed cheeks, but then again, it was raining. “I didn’t want to do this…but you gave me no choice.” 

His closest companion took a step forward to securely grasp his upper arm, urging him, “Sir, we need to get you to the nearest hideout. I won’t let you bleed out like this.” 

The disheveled man’s other trusted subordinate placed a gloved hand on one of his shoulders, squeezing into it with urgency. He surveyed you past his foggy glasses, pushing them up the slope of his nose. His eyes were once filled with a sense of endearment when he looked at you, but now, they held contempt. “She made her decision, sir.” 

The struggling leader turned his head to look back and forth between his dear followers, then at his men who all waited behind them, their rain-streaked faces contorted with conflicted apprehension. They stood perfectly still like statues, until the all too familiar sound of sirens rang out in the distance. That’s when they all scattered, like rats, escaping from the flashing lights and disappearing into the dark of the night.  

Your soon to be killer was the last one to leave, looming over you as though he was Death himself, beads of rain, sweat, and blood dripping from his chin and down onto your face below. “Just one question, darling…” He held his neck tighter than before, growing dizzier from all the blood loss. “Why?” 

A small, self-satisfied laugh painfully bellowed from your chest, causing you to grab at your stomach where it had been sliced into. “The blade cuts both ways, sir. I was just following your lead…” You weakly lifted your hand up in the air, as though you wanted to reach him, but simply couldn’t. “Why aren’t you proud of the monster you created?” 

The man began to beam at you, but the corner of his lips stretched to an unfathomable degree, as though he had carved a smile into his own face. He lifted his chin up just enough to rid himself of the shadow that was cast over him, his brown eyes now void of anything, simply black. Soulless. “Oh, darling…the monster was always there. I simply dug it up.” 

You suddenly woke up and sat upright in your bed, your entire body covered in a layer of sweat, leading you to desperately kick off the comforter that had trapped you inside the sweltering heat. Upon realizing you were no longer caught inside a warped memory from your adolescence, you looked down at your stomach, lifting up the edge of your shirt to see if your scar was still there, sighing softly when you saw the jagged patch of skin. 

Your past doesn't define you. He doesn't define you — none of them do. And, now, you had the opportunity to create your own definition, and get a little revenge while you were at it. 

-

“Do we ring the doorbell…?” Yeonjun asked from beside you, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, getting a bit dizzy from trying to take in all of the glory of the Kim Estate. 

You were too busy studying the faded stains of blood left on the stone floor below to notice how out of character Yeonjun was already behaving, not that you could blame him. A similar prick of anxiety was already embedding itself into your mind, but you waved it away as soon as it made itself present. “We may be entering a lion’s den, but we won’t behave like them. I’ll knock.” 

Yeonjun nodded swiftly, clutching the handle of his messenger bag tightly inside his sweaty hand. “Hopefully they don’t eat us alive.” 

You gently pushed a few strands of hair behind your ear, making sure you didn’t disturb the positioning of the micro earpiece that was sitting just behind your tragus. “They won’t, as long as we prove our worth.” 

You grabbed onto the obnoxious ivory door knocker, and just as you were about to make your presence known, you found yourself being yanked into the mansion by someone much bigger than you, Yeonjun’s squeaks of protest becoming background noise as soon as the man slammed you against the nearest wall. What felt to be the cold barrel of a compact handgun pressed up into the bottom of your chin with a click, your assailant’s focused, deep-set eyes boring into your own. “Is this how you welcome all your guests?”

“Not all of them…some I leave dead on the doorstep before they can even get a chance to beg on their knees,” the man muttered in a distinctly gravelly voice, a small chuckle bubbling out of his throat. Usually, the people he dealt with would be pissing themselves at this point, but it just seemed to be another day for this strangely familiar visitor. 

You could almost see your partner out of the corner of your eye, already on his own knees, his distinctively red hair being held onto by a nameless man in a 3-hole knit balaclava. It was then that you angled your head up slightly to get a good look at your old friend, feeling the barrel push harder into your skin. “Every guard dog has to have their fun, right? And, if you blew my head off now, well, where’s the fun in that?” 

“You’re right, doll.” The tall man’s plump lips quirked up into a smirk, slowly dragging his gun past your chin, down your neck, and along the softest parts of your body, poking and prodding at you in an attempt to humiliate you. “Should I see how many new holes I can give you? Fill them all with hot lead?” 

“At least buy me a drink first,” you said through gritted teeth, trying not to show any discomfort when he pushed the loaded gun roughly into your abdomen, directly into your scar, not that he could’ve known it was there. 

He seemed to enjoy your pained response, leaning his head back to let out a sudden laugh, one that was short and abrupt like a bark. “You’re one crazy bitch…” The man licked over his plump lips. “I like that.” 

It was just then that somebody else entered the foyer, their presence so distinctly powerful, the lot of you couldn’t help but notice before he even stepped foot in the room. “Is that any way to treat a valued guest, Mingi? I thought I trained you better than that.” 

Mingi immediately de-cocked the gun and brought it behind his back, tucking it away inside the waistline of his tailored pants. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Seonghwa patted Mingi’s shoulder with a gloved hand, giving him a small nod of understanding, before turning his attention to you and Yeonjun, the both of you cautiously standing with your backs against the paneled wall. “I do apologize for my guard dog. We try to keep him on a tight leash, but sometimes…he gets loose.” His shifting eyes formed half crescents. “You understand.” 

Yeonjun glanced over at you for guidance, and you responded with a small smile, before nodding your head obediently at Seonghwa’s words, Yeonjun following your lead. “It’s not a problem.” 

Seonghwa clasped his hands together, shaking his head slightly, a strand or two of raven hair falling past his forehead from where the rest of it sat perfectly still. He couldn’t seem to understand why he was experiencing a bout of deja vu. “Where are my manners?” He pressed his palm into his chest, and gave a small bow. “I’m Park Seonghwa, the second in command, if you will, here at the Kim Estate.” 

Yeonjun bowed back instantly, pushing his dyed hair behind his ears as he stood up straight. “My name’s Yeon. That’s what I go by online.” 

Seonghwa’s eyebrows raised up slightly. “Ah, I know you.” He chuckled to himself, glad that he was able to pinpoint the air of familiarity, but still annoyed that something wasn’t quite right. “You’re that hacker that’s going around and fucking with the local government, aren’t you?” 

Yeonjun was glad he didn’t eat too much that morning, otherwise he would’ve already thrown it up by now. He brought a peace sign up to his face and smiled. “That’s me, professional shit-stirrer at your service.” 

As more men began to trickle into the foyer to see what all the commotion was about, Seonghwa slowly turned his attention back to you, the true object of his frustration. It’s like he had seen you many times before, in a dream, perhaps? In the casino they ran behind closed doors? Or maybe you were one of the many playthings that were brought in to appease the voracious appetites of his degenerate cohorts. Either way, Seonghwa both loved and loathed the way you were already inside his mind, like you had already lived there, and your existence had simply been unearthed by the sands of time. 

“And, you are…?” he asked in a slow, calculated manner, his head tilting to the side. 

“I’m a diamond expert,” you explained vaguely, motioning to the large suitcase of supplies you were holding. “I can see the value of most things from a mile away, much like your dear leader.” 

Hongjoong was already aware of your arrival. You could feel it in your bones. 

Seonghwa brought a closed fist to his chin, nodding at your words, still not completely sure why he felt so uncomfortable. “But, who are you?” 

Your bubbling amusement was starting to rush to the surface, unable to keep yourself from smiling. And, just like that, you reunited with your dear mentor, except on opposite sides of the chess board. You were delighted everyone was there to witness the beginnings of your awaited rematch. “Why don’t you ask him? I think he’ll have an idea of who I am,” you replied giddily, prompting you to motion your head to the man that stood above the rest of you. 

You felt something stir within the men that looked at you, as though what had been hidden for so long had finally come to light. You weren’t a ghost, much to their surprise — well, at least, not yet. You were, of course, taking a gamble with your life, and your partner’s as well, but risks were meant to be taken, rules were meant to be broken, and strings were meant to be cut.

As though right on time, Hongjoong dug his nails into the mahogany railing of the expansive landing, his free hand unconsciously adjusting the bow that was wrapped securely around his neck. He understood the most out of all them. Value. You looked up to him, moving your fingers as though you were using a pair of scissors. 

“Remember now?” 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[selective-seclusion]

ohmigosh I did it. I finished my outline.

LETSGOOOO!!

Goddess I’ve literally never put this much work into an outline before. I’ve always been a person who laugh at the thought of planning my stories like this; and I love the chaos of planting a seed and seeing what grows. But my stories in the past have taken on the problem of not knowing when enough is enough. I have so many ideas for so many scenes so I end up making the story twist and bend so I can include them all.

So it’s time to try something new. I’m still going in “the outline is more like guidelines than actual rules” vibe and it was heartbreaking to realize there were scenes that would never fit into the story I wanted to tell, but I still fucking did it! Did it!! I know the story I want my blorbos to go on and it’s gonna happen. A 3 Act Structure. An inner and outer goal. A lie a character believes and the way that flaw paints the narrative. The characters have agency and will make choices that will determine the plot of the story. All that good stuff that’s easy to tell when it’s done wrong, and infinitely harder to do it correctly yourself.

So to my zero followers -- keep an eye out in the next few weeks. I’ll be posting chapter 1 of my fic on ao3 here.

The Story of Donnie “Insert Surname” and his unsecured attachment style all while being very 14 years old.

AKA

Selective Seclusion

[pinkclairo]

nerd!abby x reader

cw: cunnilingus (aa!recieving) , smut DUH , some plot idk , established relationship , lowk shit writing , pet names (baby)

you were watching abby read her book. her arm was slightly draped over your body, and your leg was atop of hers. you were running your fingers tips up and down her toned stomach.

"when will you be done?" you whined, getting impatient and desperately wanting her attention. "i'm not even close to being done, baby." she whispered, focused on her book with an annoyed tone hidden deeply in her voice. you rolled your eyes, eventually learning that no matter what she wasn't just gonna stop reading.

you pressed your palm straight down onto her stomach and rubbed instead of just dragging your fingers. you felt how toned her abs were, how her arm locked you into place close to her.. you took all of her in and your hand slowly dragged down to the top of her pants.

you smirked to yourself and it was like a light bulb popped up in your head. you threw her arm off you, and she looked at you weirdly, but decided to not say anything. you sat up, not even trying to be subtle about it, and sat yourself between her legs.

the dropped her book onto her chest and cocked an eyebrow at you. "just keep reading your book, abs." you told her, and she, for some reason, listened. you smiled slyly and fiddled with the waistband of her sweatpants, getting your fingers under. you pulled them off her, and she bucked her hips to make it easier for you.

you leaned down, faced with her cunt, and licked a little kitten lick up her folds. she spread her legs wider to give you more access, and she sucked in a breath. “shit, you drive me insane..” she spoke under her breath.

you put your hands steady on her big hips and went all in. you flicked your tongue on her clit and she groaned. her big hand found its way to the back of your head and shoved you farther into her cunt. you fingernails dug into her flesh while you repeatedly lick her pussy like it’s your last meal.

“fuck, make me feel so good, baby.” she managed to moan out, bucking her hips into your face. your tongue swirled against her entrance. your saliva and her juices ran down your face and made your lips and chin wet.

her thick thighs tightened around your head as she sensed her high coming. and before she even knew it she was releasing all over your face. you moan into her cunt and lap up every drop of her cum.

her thighs release you from her grip, and you sit back up. “gosh, you couldn’t wait til i was done with one chapter?” she asked, laughing. you shook your head and grinned. “no.”

you crawled up on top of her, face-to-face and caught her mouth into a kiss. her lips were soft, and you moved you hands to caress her cheeks.

sorry this is saur bad and the shortest thing to ever be written ever… can you tell this is my first time writing smut?? i bet u can, anyways request puhlease <33

[noceurous]

a guide to dating in twenty first century

now you’re on a second date with him, you’re not on his lap but he is between your legs

warnings: implied age-gap, swearing, mention of abusive behavior (not by joel or reader), mention of bad childhoods and life struggles, some angst, nicknames (baby), fluff, smut; semi-public sex(ish), fingering (f receiving), oral (both receiving), hints of dom!joel, daddy kink, minors dni (18+), reader is able-bodied, afab, and has hair.

a/n: sorry this took so long, real-life is a chaos and sucks but thanks to Portugal pics i’m so writing the third chapter now!

[part i]

part ii: the in-between

Going to movies was definitely not on your top three for ideal dates. You usually went to the movie theater with your mom who shared your love for overpriced, extra salty, greasy popcorn and never chit chatted during the movie. Or you just went there alone, enjoying it by yourself and your popcorn.

“Would you like some popcorn?” Joel asked while you were making your way to the screening room.

You texted Joel after two days. You were worried you made him think you were pressured by him. Even though you reassured him a few times it wasn’t like that, he was a gentleman enough to think it was better to give you some space.

After getting your text, he had invited you to a movie he wanted to go to. Saying he had an extra ticket since his brother ditched on him.

“Yeah, it’d be nice.” He motioned for you to go inside, gently pressing his hand on the small of your back.

“You go in and I’ll go get them.”

“I can join—” He raised his hand, pointing through the door.

“I insist.”

Soon enough he came back holding a large bucket of popcorn, and two sodas. You noticed his hands were large enough to carry them without any trace of struggle.

And he had thick long fingers which gave you one of your best orgas—

“Thank you again.” You said as he gave you the bucket.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked as he sat down next to you. Eyes scanning you for a trace of discomfort.

“I’m on a nice fluffy seat, I've got my soda and popcorn. Also I’ve a handsome guy in my company. I don’t see any reason to complain.” You said as you threw one popcorn inside your mouth.

“If you are good with the ‘handsome’ company, then I’m good too.” He said as he took some of your popcorn.

“Are you kidding? It’s the best part.” You winked at him, earning a small chuckle.

He leant to kiss your cheek. You acted before him, your lips pressing his before they could reach your cheek.

The kiss was sweet, and soft. When he sat back you could see the pinkish hue his lips got thanks to your lip balm.

Before you made a comment about it, the lights were dimmed all the way down, meaning you had to focus on the screen, not the handsome company.

The movie was a guy’s movie; full of action and no message to give, just something to enjoy. Maybe you could watch it again with your dad. Whenever you wanted to spend quality time with him at his man cave.

You jumped when the guy blew up the car, some of the popcorn was shifted inside the bucket. He placed his hand on your thigh. It was more protective than suggestive. You knew it was more like a reflex and he had no intention but since you had the brightest idea of wearing your shortest dress it was not that innocent for you.

You could feel the goosebumps forming on your skin, and dampness on your underwear. It did not take you too long to remember your previous date, and how you ended up on his lap.

Just focus on the MOVIE.

His hand was placed in a reasonable spot, a few inches above your knee. Fingers lazily drawing circles on your skin. You glanced at him a few times but each time his eyes were locked on the screen. You knew that he was aware of your gaze. His touch on you got tighter at times, fingers moving higher, halfway to reach your dress just before the first part of the movie was over.

You looked down at your lap, precisely focusing on the casually wandering hand. Saved by a second to get caught. “So? Did you like the movie?”

“It was… entertaining.” You said as you slurped your soda, avoiding his gaze. “I enjoyed it when the guy decided to steal his stepfather’s car, who blamed him for his mother’s death.”

He raised his eyebrow, “You didn’t like it, did you?”

“Not on my top three, but not at the bottom three either. Maybe next time I can pick the movie?”

He smiled, his tongue clicking on his mouth. You knew he liked when you gave him a green light for a second date. “Next time, I’ll let you choose the movie.” He nodded, his hand squeezing your thigh. You subtly parted your thighs, letting his hand move.

When the lights got dimmed again you two were still looking each other, taking in each other for a few seconds before the second half started.

You could feels his gaze on you this time. His fingers were slower, tracing the outline of your inner thighs, moving closer to the hem of your skirt.

You breath hitched, thighs parted slightly, asking for more. You bit down on your lower lip. Breathing through the nose and watching some guy got beaten the hell out of.

Joel’s fingers brushed along the hem of your skirt, waiting there, asking for a sign of approval.

You spent each night to make yourself cum like he did but you did not get even close enough to finish it.

Your body took over the control; you snuggled next to him, raising your hips a little. His fingertips disappeared under your skirt. You looked up to him, seeing the smirk on his face.

His middle finger traced your wet slit through your underwear. Pressing onto your clit, you almost jumped when the pleasure hit you like electricity. Your hand got on his thigh, your fingernails digging onto his hard denim.

He was playing with you as you did to him. You could feel his bulge under rough denim. Fingers dancing slowly on the shape, hearing his breath hitch when you pressed your fingertips on it.

He threw his arm around your shoulder, pressing your body closer to his. His other hand was still on your underwear, playing with the band of it.

You pressed your palm against him, gently stroking him up and down. He slid your underwear to the side, exposing you to him. You cursed under your breath as his fingers played with your folds.

You raised your head, pressing your lips along his jawline. His salt pepper beard trickled your lips but you did not mind. He turned his head, kissing you all he got as he pushed a finger inside you.

You bit down on his bottom lip, trying to not moan loudly and got attention. Thankfully the movie was loud enough and a few people chose that time-slot.

“Joel.” You whispered, placing your hand on his bicep. He didn’t stop, curling his finger inside you slowly pumping in and out. You sank down your nails on his skin, biting down on your lower lip to keep yourself quiet.

You kept palming him, trying to get your revenge but he had the upper hand. Your head felt heavy as your pleasure kept building and building.

The credits started to roll on the screen, and lights were turned on again. Joel pulled out his fingers just before people started to move. You both were smiling at yourselves for not being caught.

You got up quickly, holding him by his wrist, leading him to exit. Ditched your half finished soda and popcorn back there in your seat. Your mind was still cloudy from pleasure and you wanted to get more.

He pressed you to his groin as you walked to his car, afraid someone would see his now semi-hard bulge.

He liked the way you dragged him. He liked how you held onto him. He liked how you looked over your shoulder and gave him a small smile.

He loved your smile.

—

You were in his car, in the parking lot. You looked around to see if there were anyone around before you got inside. You quickly kissed him, moving onto his lap again. He pushed his back, giving you a space for you to move better. His hands were holding your ass over your dress, making you grind into him through his jeans.

“Fuck, baby.” He said, his hold on your ass got tighter. “If you continue to go like this…” He admitted, sucking on the spot under your ear.

“Let me suck you off, please?” You said, battling your eyelashes.

His chest fluttered with your request, he couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him this, if anyone ever did. Now his jeans were a bit tighter and his smile was bigger.

An eyebrow raised. “You want to suck me off?” He cupped your cheek, rough thumb tracing your bottom lip.

Instead of answering him, you took his thumb into your mouth, pressing yourself further on his lap. Your crotch was right on top of his bulge, your dress was lifted around your waist.

He cursed under his breath; raising his hips to feel your damp underwear. His one hand was still on your ass, taking a fistful. He knew if you pressed on him little tighter you would definitely leave this car with his fingertip marks.

“As much as I want to see my cock stuffed in your mouth— I don’t want to do this in here.” He said taking off his thumb and replacing it with his tongue. His hand was on the back of your neck, pressing your body onto him as he kissed you with all he got. You opened your mouth to him, letting his tongue devour inside your mouth.

You placed your hands at the back of his neck, fingers curling around the dark locks there. Feeling him melt onto the kiss.

He gently placed you back on the seat, kissing your temple. Your brain functions stopped, unable to process what he had just done.

“Let me drop you off baby. It’s getting late.”

“Okay.” You said nodding quicker than you want, trying to keep your eyes to yourself and not on his erection. You could heard how devastated you sounded even you only said one simple word.

—

The car ride was quicker than you expected, he probably crossed the speeding limit a few times. His one hand on the wheel, the other fixing his jeans, grumbling whenever he had to slow down.

Your hands were trembling when you put your key in the hole. His large hand placed on your hip, his erection was pressed on your ass. Poking you through your thin dress.

You didn’t know if he was doing this to hide it from people or to turn you on even more. His size was effective enough for both.

You almost pushed yourself inside when the key finally turned, the darkness of your hall greeted you.

You turned on your heels, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. Not wasting any time to kiss him. He groaned into the kiss, one hand found its place on your waist as the other pushed the door closed.

You tried to think fast, whether you should take him to your bedroom or your couch was fine or not. When he broke the kiss to take a breath. Leaning his head back on the wall, eyes glued to your heavily breathing figure.

Your hands unbuckled his belt, taking it off swiftly. You broke the kiss to get on your knees but he stopped you. “Are you sure?”

You were fooled by his question. Battling your eyelashes, keeping a soft smile on your face. “Yes, Joel. I want this.” You said as you got on your knees. The landing was not as gentle as you hoped when you got on your knees, the fibers of the rug hurt your skin. Taking a note to get yourself a fluffier rug.

Your hands were trembling when they got on his pant button.

You’re not even good at a fucking blowjob.

His hands were placed on yours, stopping you from pulling it down. “Take a moment baby, ‘m not goin’ anywhere. Okay?”

You looked up into him, seeing the soft smile on his face made your heart slow down. His knuckles caressing your cheek up and down. You saw how hard he was trying to hold himself.

You nodded, taking a large breath through your nose. Pulled the jeans down quickly, seeing his angry cock right in front of you.

Telling he was big was definitely an understatement. And he was not even fully hard. Your mouth salivating when you saw how shimy his tip was with the precum a thick vein underside.

You licked your lips, taking his cock in hand. He hissed at your warm touch, guiding it to your lips. He pressed the tip on your lower lip, smearing his arousal.

You gave it a long lick, tongue following its slit. He hissed when you gave him a quick kiss. Licking and kissing along his length; getting him as wet as possible before you took him inside your mouth.

“That’s it. Good girl.” He said as you wrapped your lips around him, and your fingers were wrapped around where your mouth could not fit.

You began moving your head slowly, working your hands alongside. You relaxed your jaw as you took more of him, his tip pressing at the back of your mouth. Your gag reflex triggered when his tip hit the back of your throat. You stopped for a second to give yourself time to adjust before continuing to suck him.

He was breathing through his nose, watching you between his legs. Your left hand was brushing along his balls at every stroke. Your warm mouth around his length. He could see how hard it was for you to fit him inside your mouth. You were breathing your nose, glossy eyes and some saliva leaving your mouth. It was even harder for him to not take control, not hold your head and move his hips. His nails dug into his palm, leaving half moon shaped marks.

He could feel him getting closer and closer to cum, trying to hold it as long as it was possible, savor the moment. But you were making it hard for him when you were looking at him like that. With tears around the corner of your eyes, taking him with all you got; sucking and licking.

You felt his hot cum shoot through the back of your throat and tongue, the familiar sour taste on your taste buds. You waited for him to finish before slowly taking him outside of your mouth.

His hands cupped your cheeks, raising his eyebrows. “Open your mouth.” He said and you obeyed him. Showing his cum pooled on your tongue. “Good girl, now swallow it.” He said, his fingers brushing along your hair, fixing the loose strands and tucking them back.

You felt proud when he called you good girl. You wanted nothing more to please him. You put your tongue back inside your mouth,swallowing all of the cum; opening your mouth again to show him you swallowed.

He chuckled, kissing you after you got back on your feet. “It is my turn to return the favor.” He said, placing his hands on your dress, guiding you to your couch in a few short steps. “Leaving you high and dry is a crime, baby.” He said as he got on his knees, pulling down your underwear.

You nodded along his words, lifting your skirt to show him your bare cunt, as he got on his knees. He smiled at your state, licking his lips before he pressed his mouth on you.

He wasn’t slow or gentle, he was like a starved man who got denied from pleasure for a long time. You were already wet from the second his tip touched your tongue. His tip flicked your swollen clit, you felt like you were electrocuted with sudden pleasure.

“F-fuck! Da-Joel!” You screamed, pulling on his dark curls. Saved by a second by calling him daddy.

He stopped to speak, brushing his mouth along your pussy. His scruff was itching but somehow he made it better.

He looked into your eyes and you saw the spark in his. The corner of his mouth turned into a smirk.

He liked it.

“You wanna call me daddy?” You nodded, raising your hips to his face. “Call me daddy.” He said feeling himself get hard again, continuing to suck on your clit.

You threw your head back, pulling his curls again. “Daddy, it’s t—too m—much.” You confessed, toes curling as the orgasm built on, sweat forming on your temples. You felt your face heat up when you got close to this soon.

Was this okay?

“You gonna come for daddy? Go on, show me what my baby does so good. Coming for all over her daddy’s face.” You did as he asked, letting the pleasure take over your body.

Crying down with your release as he pushed his tongue inside, lapping up your juices. Groaning at your taste, shaking your body straight from the core.

When you came down from your release, you let go of his head. Lying down on the couch half naked in front of him with your dress around hips.

You looked like a mess.

“You look beautiful.” He said as he put back your underwear and helped you to fix your dress back.

You weren’t ready for the sudden compliment, having a hard time to process when somebody actually complimented you post-sex. “T-thank you.” He kissed your cheek.

He pulled his pants up, tucking his cock back inside his pants. Leaning down over the couch to scoop out his belt. “Uhm, the bathroom is at the end of the hall on the right. You cannot miss it.” You said as you got up from the couch, looking at how his beard was shining with your juices.

He blinked twice then got up. “Want anything to drink?” You asked as you got on your feet, pouring yourself a glass of water. “Yes, please.” He answered as he walked down your hall.

You heard the light switch in your bathroom, nodding to yourself. Your feet slowly dragging you to your open kitchen, legs still felt like a jello after your orgasm. You rested your hip on the counter taking a moment to close your eyes and process.

“You have a lovely place.” You jerked when you heard his voice. Didn’t hear his footsteps or the light switch of the bathroom.

You smiled as he came from the corner and sat down on your two person kitchen table. “Really? It’s a bit different from yours, I have plants which need water and better sunshine.” You said as you pointed your Chinese evergreen across from your couch. “I have tea, herbal tea, coffee, some white wine..”

“Just a coffee is fine.” You lifted your head to your open cupboard filled with colorful mugs and glasses, taking out a butter colored mug.

“And many colorful mugs, as I see…”

“Yeah I even had one that says ‘life is too short to use boring mugs’. Sadly my fridge and cupboards are not filled with many ingredients, it’s mostly frozen food in the fridge. I can’t cook for shit.” You opened your coffee jar, the smell of freshly grounded coffee beans surrounding the room.

He chuckled, “I can teach you, not everything maybe, but if there is something you want to learn. I'd be glad to help you.” You took out a fresh filter paper, placing it on your small machine.

You shrugged, the idea of him watching you prepare a simple coffee was already making your stomach twirl. “No, I just hate cooking. It’s more stressful when someone is watching me.” You explained as you closed the lid and flicked the switch of the machine.

“Now, you know how I felt about our first date.” His voice stood out from the grumbles of the machine.

You turned to him. Seeing him looking at you with those thick arms crossed at his chest, hair slicked back. He was a sight, and you cannot imagine him stressed even for a second. “Were you that stressed?”

“A bit. But I knew what I was doin’. I’ve lived alone for more than two decades, baby.” You nodded, remembering your first year of living alone. You had to google a lot of stuff and he didn’t even have that privilege back then.

“It hasn’t even been five years for me, so no pressure I guess.” You said as you poured his coffee. “My mum didn’t know how to cook until I was born, she says I’ll learn eventually and she is a great cook.” You handed him his mug. Sitting down on the chair across from him. “And your mum? Is she a great cook like you?”

“She was even a better cook than me. She had to feed three men. I don’t think it was easy back in the day as it seemed. There were many times that we were short on money, she mostly had to come up with stuff. I had to start working right after high school, support them for a while until it was my time to move out, then it was Tommy’s. Soon enough we came up with Miller Construction, and here we are.”

You nodded along as he explained, wondering what young Joel was like. Who did he hang out with? How did he spend his free time? Who was he dating back then?

Was he confused about his purpose in life as well?

The last one is too deep, don’t ask him that!

“I‘ve had a friend who was close with my landlady so that’s how I found the place. Then I decided to move out.”

More like a toxic ex than a friend.

“You’re lucky. It took me around three years just to find a place, but I also own my place so I guess that’s normal.”

“Kinda lucky. My landlady is a bitch to me…”

“Really?”

“She never helps me when there is something needs to be fixed. Creates a scene when I miss to pay the rent by one day. She used to snitch on me to my bo—“

You stopped yourself when you realized you almost break your rule.

Never mention your ex unless asked.

“She is not a good person basically.” You explained; raising up to place your now empty glass back to sink. Turned your back towards him to take a deep breath. Closing your eyes for a second when the familiar memory flashed in your mind.

You’d be stuck in that small place with your mum for the rest of your life without me.

“Have you thought about moving out?”

“Nope. My rent makes her tolerable, I can handle her if she gets though. I have claws too.”

“I see.” He said as he nodded along, taking a sip from his coffee. “Call me if you need my help. I’ve been told that I’m a very persuasive person.” You both chuckled at that.

He got up and placed his half empty mug next to yours. When he stood in your kitchen like that, all broad and tall, it felt like somehow he belonged there all along. In his casual fit jeans and dark green plaid flannel, holding your butter colored chubby mug, it felt like this was your casual evening.

“Living in a big city is tough for everybody.” He added, placing his hand next to your elbow on the kitchen counter. Fingers brushing up and down on your arm.

“Yeah. I will call you, if she gets on my nerves again. Maybe a fresh blood for the battle is better.”

“Yeah maybe.” He agreed. “I’d be glad to help you.” He said as he leant in, kissing you.

The kiss was small, you tasted yourself and the coffee before he took a step back. Leaning his forehead on yours, he gulped before opening his mouth.

“I really hate to say this but I better get going. Have some stuff to take care of.” He said before kissing your temple, walking back slowly as he made his way to door.

“Oh okay, let me walk you out.” You said as you followed him.

“When can I see you again? I assume your schedule is pretty tight, with the wedding and stuff.”

“Yeah it’s in less than 10 days, but I’m pretty much free. I have this dress rehearsal in two days and that’s pretty much it. That and the wedding of course.”

He nodded along as you explained. “I hope it’s not too early but I have a cabin. I’ll spend this month out there.”

You felt like your heart shattered when he said he’d be away for a month. “Oh, it seems nice.”

“It is. It’s good for relax and stuff.” There was a moment of silence, you scratched the back of your leg with your feet. Unable to form a sentence.

So was this a goodbye-goodbye? Would you be able to reach him when he is at the cabin?

“After the wedding I’d like to take you there actually. At least for a few days, I’m in between projects and usually I go there and spend some time away from the city.”

He wants you! He wants you there!

“I’ll check in with work, had some pending leave days, if I can use them…” He cut you short, already smiling like a kid with a treat when he got your answer.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

“Sure. Drive safe.”

“Will do,” He said as he gave you a kiss on the lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back. Giving him a nice goodbye before he marched down the stairs.

He felt like he was more alive then ever when you said yes to him, mentally planning the trip and made sure to go and check the cabin before he brought you there.

You felt like your heart was beating inside your chest when you closed the door. You brought your fingers to your lips, still feeling his lips there.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 10

Pairings: Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Angst, stupidity, annoyingness lol

A/N: This is the shortest chapter i have lol i also lowkey might add flashbacks into each chapter to add more depth and show more of the before.

The door slams behind you, leaving the apartment in silence, and for a moment, Bucky just stands there, his fists clenched, heart pounding as he processes what just happened. His chest is tight, and he feels the rage and regret building up until it erupts.

With a frustrated yell, he grabs the nearest lamp and hurls it across the room. The shattering glass echoes, cutting through the silence like a knife. Pieces scatter across the floor, a reflection of the chaos inside him.

“Goddammit!” he shouts, his voice cracking as he rakes his hands through his hair, pacing in circles like a caged animal. His breaths come fast and shallow, his mind racing through the night, every word exchanged like a dagger twisting deeper into his chest.

For a few seconds, he just stands there, staring at the broken lamp, his hands trembling. But the stillness is unbearable. He bolts for the door, flinging it open and stepping out into the hallway, shouting your name, his voice raw and desperate. He runs outside looking up and down the sidewalk “ Come on, don’t do this—please!”

But his voice is swallowed by the noise of a New York City Saturday night—distant laughter, honking horns, the steady hum of life moving on without him. He looks up and down the street, hoping, praying for even a glimpse of you, but you’re gone.

His pulse quickens, panic clawing its way into his chest. He rushes back inside, snatching his phone off the coffee table. His fingers fumble over the screen as he types out a frantic message.

Where are you? Please come back.

He hits send, but the empty silence that follows feels like a punch to the gut. He types again, his hands shaking as his heart pounds against his ribs.

I’m sorry. Just tell me you’re okay.

The seconds stretch into eternity as he stares at the screen, waiting for something—anything. When nothing comes, he dials your number, his thumb trembling as he presses the call button. He presses the phone to his ear, the ringing tone like a ticking clock in his mind.

Then he hears it: a faint buzzing, too close. His stomach drops as he turns toward the ceramic bowl by the door—the one he’d made for you last year on your birthday. A bowl meant for keys, little mementos… or your phone. He steps toward it slowly, as if delaying the inevitable, and peers inside. His chest tightens when he sees your phone lying there, abandoned.

“Dammit,” he whispers, his voice cracking. His hand hovers over it for a moment before he picks it up, his knuckles white around the edges. You’d left it behind. The weight of it all—the fight, his words, the reality of you walking out like that—hits him like a freight train.

He sinks down onto the floor, clutching your phone in his lap, his head falling into his hands. His breaths come in uneven gasps, and for the first time in years, tears spill freely down his face. He sees it all replaying in his mind: the way your face crumpled as you turned away, the sound of the door slamming behind you, the silence that followed.

Go. I don’t want you here.

The words ring in his ears, echoing with all the venom and finality he hadn’t meant but couldn’t take back. They were born out of fear and frustration, but now they feel like the truth—like he’s pushed you away for good.

After a moment, he wipes at his face, sniffs, and forces himself to his feet. This isn’t over. It can’t be.

He throws on his coat and rushes out the door, his mind racing as he retraces all the places you might have gone. First, the bar down the street—the one you’ve spent countless nights in, laughing over drinks, sharing secrets you wouldn’t tell anyone else. But it’s packed, unfamiliar faces filling the space where you should be.

Next, the café where you always get your Sunday morning coffee. The lights are dimmed, chairs stacked on tables. Closed. His heart sinks, but he presses on.

The bookstore is next. The one with late hours, where you could spend hours flipping through old paperbacks and laughing at obscure poetry collections. But it’s empty too, the familiar warmth of the shop now a cold reminder of how lost you are.

Finally, he heads to the park. The park where you’d spent so many nights sitting on the old wooden benches, talking under the stars. It’s quiet here, the hum of the city fading into the background. He sits down on one of those benches, his head falling into his hands as his shoulders shake.

He’s failed you. He’s failed himself. The weight of everything he’s been holding back—the fear, the love, the guilt—crashes down all at once. Silent tears stream down his face as he tilts his head up toward the sky, the stars blurring through his tears.

Then his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He scrambles for it, hope surging in his chest, but when he sees the name, his heart twists painfully.

Steve.

His thumb hovers over the screen before he opens the message.

She’s here. She walked from the apartment without her phone or coat. You let her walk out like that? What the hell were you thinking?

Bucky’s throat tightens, and his fingers curl around the phone. His vision blurs as he reads the words over and over, Steve’s anger matching his own self-loathing. He types out a response, but his fingers falter, and he deletes it. What could he say? There was no excuse for what he’d done.

Instead, he slips the phone back into his pocket and leans forward, burying his face in his hands. The ache in his chest deepens, and for the first time, he lets himself feel the full weight of what he’s lost.

He stares up at the sky again, the stars offering no comfort, only the cold realization that he might have pushed you away for good.

And he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get you back. But he never really had you in the first place.

As you step out of the shower, the quiet hum of voices drifts down the hall. Curiosity—and a bit of anxiety—tugs at you as you wrap yourself in a towel and press your ear to the bathroom door. Relief washes over you when you recognize Natasha and Wanda’s voices mixed with Sam and Steve’s, and you close your eyes, exhaling slowly. They’re here; you’re not alone.

Gathering yourself, you open the door and step into the living room, where Natasha is pacing, visibly agitated, while Wanda sits on the couch, her face full of concern. Sam and Steve stand nearby, leaning against the counter, both looking serious. When they see you, the conversation pauses, and Natasha stops mid-rant.

“Hey, there you are,” Wanda says softly, standing up to meet you. “Are you feeling any better?”

You offer a small smile. “Yeah, thanks. Just… processing, I guess.”

Wanda nods, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “We’re here for you. Whatever you need.”

Natasha, however, looks ready to explode. She crosses her arms, her eyes flashing with anger. “It is not okay,” she says firmly. “You don’t just let your so-called best friend walk out alone at night, without so much as a phone or coat.”

You shrug, avoiding everyone’s eyes as you tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe… maybe we were never really friends. Maybe it was just the convenience of it all, you know?”

Wanda’s eyes widen slightly as she squeezes your shoulder, her voice soft. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t answer because you know thats just bullshit, but thinking that hurts less, you sigh running a hand through your wet hair, glancing down as the hurt lingers in your chest. The silence stretches for a moment before Natasha breaks it, her tone gentler now.

“So… how was your date with Dean?” she asks, a note of curiosity softening her expression.

A sad smile tugs at your lips. “It was… everything a girl could dream of. He was respectful, charming… and he actually listened to me.” You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “It was perfect.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, looking hopeful. “So… are you going to go on another one with him?”

You hesitate, glancing in Steve’s direction for a brief second before looking back at Natasha. “Yeah… I think so.”

Sam shifts, clearing his throat, a hesitant look on his face. “So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, but… you and Bucky still live together. What’s the plan?”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you, and for a moment, the weight of it all settles heavily. You swallow, looking down, and shrug. “I don’t know,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t just… keep going back to the way things were. But I don’t know what comes next either. He’s Bucky yknow?”

Steve watches you, his face soft and understanding, and he offers a reassuring nod. You take a deep breath and settle onto the couch, feeling the weight of everyone’s concerned gazes. After a pause, you look around, your voice soft but firm. “Look, you guys can’t just be here for me. You’ve gotta be there for Bucky, too.”

Natasha scoffs, crossing her arms and shooting you a look. “As if! He’s the one who let you walk out in the middle of the night!....In New York!!! You’re too good of a friend if you’re even thinking about him right now.”

You give her a sad smile, shrugging slightly. “It’s… not about that, even if it was i wouldn’t of let him stop me, i made the decision to leave, i-i could have went to my room and --”

Natasha throws her arms up “Really? Are you kidding me? I love you babe but you’ve been defending him your whole life, he needs to take fault!”

You shake your head, your voice slight rasing “Its not that simple Nat and you know it” You hear her grumble before continuing “He’s going through something too. We’re all friends for a reason, right? We don’t get to just pick sides.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, groaning. “You’re way too good of a friend. Honestly, you’re killing me here.”

You manage a weak chuckle, but before you can respond, you hear Sam moving toward the door. He grabs his keys and his phone, his expression resolute.

Steve raises an eyebrow, looking over at him. “Where are you going?”

Sam glances back, determination in his gaze. “You heard the woman,” he says, nodding toward you. “I’m gonna go be a friend to one of my best friends.”

A surge of gratitude rises in you, and you give him a small, sincere smile. “Thank you, Sammy.”

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looks at you, and his voice holds a quiet warmth. “What are friends for?”

1 month ago

The air was crisp, filled with the mingling scents of freshly baked bread, blooming flowers, and sizzling street food. The bustling energy of the farmer’s market buzzed around you as you strolled through the vibrant stalls. Your arm was linked with Bucky’s, the two of you laughing as you navigated through the crowd, the warm Sunday morning sun casting a golden glow over everything.

Natasha and Wanda were a few stalls back, rifling through retro furniture pieces and vinyl records for their new apartment. Sam was predictably at a food truck, enthusiastically sampling every free bite they offered.

“You know where we’re headed,” you said with a grin, gently tugging Bucky toward the familiar book stall at the far end of the market.

He chuckled, squeezing your arm lightly. “Obviously. Can’t leave without finding something we don’t have space for on our shelves.”

You both were English majors, and literature had always been your shared sanctuary. The book stall was a small haven of dog-eared novels, rare editions, and hidden gems that called to you like an old friend.

But as you approached, Bucky suddenly stopped in his tracks. His grip on your arm loosened, and his head turned sharply, his expression shifting. “Kate?” he said, more to himself than to you.

Before you could even process it, his arm slipped out of yours, and he was weaving through the crowd, heading toward a figure you hadn’t noticed until now. A brunette. He didn’t say another word, leaving you standing there, your heart sinking as his back disappeared into the sea of people.

You blinked, dumbfounded. “Okay… what just happened?”

“Hey,” a familiar voice said behind you. You turned to see Steve approaching, a paper bag of pastries in hand. His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced around. “Where’d Bucky go?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice light. “He saw someone he knew. An old friend, I guess.”

Steve nodded slowly, his concern softening into curiosity. “Did you two make it to the books yet?”

You forced a small smile. “No, not yet. We were about to.”

Steve tilted his head, offering his arm with a warm smile. “Well, do you want to look somewhere else while we wait for him to come back?”

Your heart ached a little, but his kindness made it easier. “Sure,” you said, linking your arm with his. Steve always had a way of making things feel okay, even when they weren’t.

He led you toward the next section of the market, where stalls displayed vintage jewellery, scarves, and other unique trinkets. As you browsed, your eyes caught on something that made you gasp softly—a locket, its delicate gold surface glinting in the sunlight. It looked almost identical to the one you’d lost at some stupid college party that led to a panic attack, it had been so precious to you because it was a family heirloom passed down multiple generations that you of all people lost. It hit you hard.

You picked it up carefully, running your thumb over its intricate design. It was beautiful, and for a moment, you felt that familiar pang of nostalgia, of longing. But when you flipped it over, searching for a price tag, you found none. You sighed quietly, already knowing what that meant. You’d only set aside money for books today—not for a locket, no matter how much it tugged at your heart.

Reluctantly, you set it back down, giving it one last wistful glance before turning back to Steve. He’d been watching you, his expression soft, but before he could say anything, Bucky reappeared, his usual grin plastered on his face.

“Sorry about that,” Bucky said, running a hand through his hair. “I saw someone from college.”

You raised an eyebrow, forcing your smile to stay in place. “Oh?”

“Yeah, remember that girl I had the project with in our last year? Kate. That was her,” he said, nodding toward where she’d vanished into the crowd. “Haven’t seen her since graduation. Got her number, though!”

“Cool,” you said, your voice light but not quite steady. Your chest ached, but you buried it quickly. Even the farmer’s market wasn’t safe from heartbreak, it seemed.

Bucky held out his arm again, his smile as warm as ever. “Shall we?”

You nodded, linking your arm with his once more. “Sure,” you said, glancing over at Steve. “You coming with?”

Steve shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. “No, I’m gonna check out one more stand. Meet you guys at the benches for lunch?”

“Sounds good,” Bucky said, steering you back into the crowd. “Don’t take too long, Rogers. Sam’s probably already ordered for everyone.”

Steve waved you off, waiting until you and Bucky were out of sight. Then, he turned back to the vendor, his gaze settling on the locket you’d been admiring.

“I’ll take that locket, please,” Steve said quietly, pulling out his wallet.

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

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Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie, this chapter has some forced proximity, tension and uh oh feelings.

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type

Word Count: 3.7k (it’s the shortest one, I promise I’m so sorry 😭)

Chapter 2

The first thing you did when you got into Eddie Munson’s little red corvette was peel the window open, claiming you had just needed some fresh air. It was true, as his scent had choked you as soon as you sat down on the dark gray leather seats. It’s strangely intoxicating, an odd mix of smoke, woodsy, and pure man that has you wanting to take a big whiff like some little pervert.

Strangely even from the window of a rockstar’s corvette the little town looked no more glamorous than it did from your beat up car, the small town feel of it all suffocating as you fill with gratitude you managed to get out. He finally pulls in front of a three story apartment, white walls and balconies so small they make you claustrophobic.

“Uh, how are we supposed to fill this small car with all your uncle’s stuff?” You ask, peering into the backseat as you undo your seatbelt.

He smiles, his eyes momentarily switching between the backseat of the two door car and you. “My van is in the resident’s parking lot, it should have plenty of room to move stuff over.”

“So, donation, your place and your uncle’s place, I’m guessing?” You ask, walking a step behind him to the front door of the building.

“Pretty much. It just comes down to going through it which I know, will be a fucking pain.” He reaches your eyes, giving you a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

You didn’t have much of a choice.

“Not that you had much of a choice,” he adds as he opens the apartment door, a small bout of laughter filling the halls.

Okay, that was weird.

His uncle lived on the first floor in the corner room in a furnished spot, so all it came down to were the knicknacks he had collected over the years. You didn’t think that’d be so bad until you walked in, your eyes landing on wall to wall collections of mugs and hats and other tiny sentimental things.

“Pretty sure we’re going to end up donating most of the mugs, he doesn’t use them anyway, it’s the hats he’s been fighting tooth and nail for,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing a moving box you haven’t noticed from a stack in a pile against the wall.

“How’d those get here?”

“My assistant brought them with the van,” he explains, setting the box up. “He’s hanging out around town until we pack the van up.”

“Must be nice to have an assistant to take care of that shit,” you muse, your voice only the teeniest bit bitter about it.

He passes you the box, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “I’m aware it sounds pretentious. I only hired him when I kept losing track of which fucking thing I had to do next. Interview, show, interview, photo shoot…it was fucking never ending at times. Sometimes I needed a reminder to fucking eat.”

You grab the box from him, ignoring the twinge in your gut as you walk up to a bookshelf in the corner of the small living room containing many little things. You know time is of the essence, but you can’t help yourself, leaning over to analyze the display his uncle had created. There’s a photo in the center in a simple wooden frame, a gruff older man who you supposed would be Wayne standing arm in arm with Eddie, a much younger, freer Eddie, at least, standing outside in front of a forest area.

Eddie has his hand on his hip, squinting his eyes against the sun with his uncle's arm wrapped around his shoulder. If you’d looked closer, you’d see their reddened faces, blotchy from tears shed but both gritting their teeth for the picture.

“That was the day I left for LA,” you jump at his voice, holding your chest tightly as you turn to look around to face him.

He’s still across the apartment, wrapping the mugs and storing them in a tupperware box. “I have never seen him cry like that in my life. I was scared shitless.”

You avoid his stare, the starry eyed version of him something you’re not quite used to, something stirs deep in your gut that you find oddly unsettling.

In an attempt to ignore it you look closer at the knick knacks surrounding it, suddenly realizing it was just Corroded Coffin merch, tickets, and even demos. “These would be worth a pretty penny,” you turn over the tape in your hand, imagining a rough draft of Eddie’s untuned, inexperienced vocals. “To you, they must be priceless.”

“I could release them if I’d really wanted to, but the songs suck and my voice was even worse,” Eddie shrugs, still moving mugs into their different boxes. You notice how much fuller the one on the left is, Eddie making actual progress in comparison to your dilly-dallied snooping.

“I bet Wayne still wants this.” You sigh, placing the memorabilia gently in the cardboard box, admiring the faded ink from ticket stubs over twenty years ago. The following shelf had a full row of dark fantasy novels, every spine cracked to oblivion with yellowed crinkled pages. “Do you want these?”

Eddie looks over, absentmindedly wrapping a mug when he double, triple takes, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas. “Oh I thought he threw those away!”

Suddenly the scent of his cologne invades your nose again as he leans right next to you, grabbing at one of the books on the shelf with a giddy grin. “I used to reread these all the time.”

“Princesses needing rescuing in some odd faraway land?” You tease, turning the dark green book over in your hand.

“Usually with some kind of twist,” he hums, analyzing the back of his paperback as he squats his ass an inch over the floor. “Dragons being in cahoots, noble knights acting selfishly, evil kings turning out to be righteously good… there was always some sort of twist,” his narration turned dramatic as the sentence moved on, a story teller’s voice.

It reminded you of one specific fun fact. “Uncle Dustin said you were his dungeon master in high school, were these any inspiration?”

Eddie’s brows furrow deeply, jerking his head as swivels sharply upward. “Somehow it’d slipped my mind that you would know Dust.”

You nod absentmindedly, taking in the fantastical names in the description. Lysandra the princess, Eletha the fae, King Alistair… “Unfortunately.”

“Hmm,” he peeps, fluttering through the pages. “Aah, Sorceress Nyrinn teaching Lysandra basic magic, this takes me back.”

You smile down at him, how his dimples are deeply embedded in his cheeks and his front canines peek from behind that wide grin as he skims through his harlequin equivalent chock full of fantasy and adventure.

“Any of these girls you’ve ever fantasized about rescuing?” You tease him, starting to toss the books in a box labeled Eddie Home. He remains silent, even a pink tinge dusting his ears. “I was joking, sire.”

“Just keep packing,” he grumbles, tossing the book carelessly into your very organized box. “I’m gonna go take a quick smoke break.”

You find yourself fallen into an easy pattern, having figured out what Eddie’s looking to keep very early on. He’s even willing to go through the boxes that have been long stored at Wayne’s apartment, insisting they don’t need any dead weight, not in Wayne’s small sized room, and not lugged across a few state lines back in LA.

One of the boxes stored in Wayne’s closet seems like it was just thrown together until you realize they were all belongings of a teenage boy. A soft smile graces your face as you imagine Wayne unable to part with the little part of seventeen year old Eddie he still had with him, even if it’s his messy room thrown into a box.

You pick up a small shoe box, the items clunkily jumping about when you shake it. It’s only logical that the box should hold a few dozen player’s dice and painted figurines. The box’s heavy weight is largely contributed to by the worn out and outdated version of the player’s manual.

You take note of the sticky notes curled and faded peeking out of the pages, messy scrawl noting a page Eddie must’ve used for referral once or twice.

One set of dice had a familiar red and plank pattern, painted to look like his prized guitar. You smooth your thumb along the ridged paint, putting the box aside for Eddie despite the protests he will so obviously yelp out.

He deserves to be a bit more forgiving of that side of himself.

There were a handful of items you picked up and put aside for donation, a few old music tapes, a guitar string placement poster, until something catches your eye; a well loved classified notebook.

Now, you might’ve been wrong, but you always had the feeling that Eddie wasn’t too interested in his school work, all items from his locker having been tossed in the garbage the moment the last bell rang each year. As you tentatively open the book, you realize it was probably the one thing that kept him going back.

Each lined paper was filled with his messy scrawl, an intriguing combination of cursive and print, extensively detailed plans for his run as, so Dustin called him, a vindictive and tyrannical dungeon master. Across the scrawl were doodles, well shaded pencil drawings of creatures and classes alike. One page caught your eye towards the end, a full page of scattered doodles that seemed eerily familiar to you.

“Wow.” You look up to face Eddie leaned against the door frame with his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on the notebook in your hands. “I haven’t seen that in a while.”

You glance back down to the page and its doodles, still trying to make sense of where you could’ve seen it. As if plucked out of thin air, a song starts playing in your head and it clicks. “Hey you used these doodles on an album cover.”

He nods, watching your hands gently touch the graphite on the paper. “You could totally donate these to a rock and roll museum; they'd think it's dope.”

Eddie shakes his head, as if the idea was ridiculous. “No one wants to see my ratty old notebook filled with my dateless evenings. There’s not even a single lyric in there.”

“But this is on one of your albums, isn’t it?”

He nods, smiling softly at the abstract doodles before glancing up to you. “I don’t want it, I would never look at it. Take it, if you want.”

You were already tempted to steal it, the notebook having a scent that’s so specifically Eddie with an added elixir of teenage boy added to the mix making maybe your one true Kryptonite. “Whaaaaat? Why would I take it?”

“Steve said you’re a fan of our music, yeah?” You nod meekly, still tracing the graphite. “Well if not, it's going in the trash.”

You put it in your purse.

Since your father left that morning, so did the tether that kept your head on straight, any lingering ideas kept at bay as you kept a safe distance. It was gone.

Keeping a safe distance as an act of self discipline all but seemed moot when your dad offered your services, now stuck in a tiny apartment working around Eddie as his gentle voice hums to the music blasting through his phone.

Maybe a dress isn’t the best choice to wear for manual labor such as packing and moving boxes, the length obviously not long enough to cover the bright underwear. Maybe it's the little allowance you give yourself to indulge in defiance against your own rule. Regardless, it was safer to stay as far away as possible.

Fate proves herself to be a cruel mistress as you find yourself on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab something on a shelf you wondered why someone elderly had a shelf stored so high on the wall, and you smelt him before you felt him, reaching to the shelf’s level to grab it for you.

“Why the hell did he have a shelf this fuckin’ high for?” He huffs, tossing the hidden box onto the bed.

He steps away as fast as he came, leaving the room with a few boxes you had packed and ready. The moment clouds your brain, his strong torso completely against your back, his hot breath on your neck as he stepped away. What the hell?

Your heart pitter patters, your whole body frazzled while you put a few more boxes by the door.

As you’re leaning down to pick up another box you hear Eddie swear loudly down the hall in disgust. He uses the lord’s name in vain several times, rubbing his hand on his pants as his face twists up in utter revulsion when you peek out to see the culprit.

“Somethin’ gross? I don’t see anything wrong with this picture,” you comment, looking around his setting for what might have set him off.

“Don’t–” his hands fly up to prevent you from taking another step. His overly wide eyes and panicked state would usually have you laughing if you weren’t so curious to what could possibly send him into this frantic state of disgust. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

“Now I really do want to know,” you insist, still scanning the room.

“No. You don’t.” He shakes his head solemnly, his foot slowly shuffling slightly to his left. “Seriously.”

“Can I at least have a hint?” You plead, knowing the possibilities will drive you crazy all day.

“I just found a box of my old clothes,” Eddie starts, gesturing to a kaleidoscope of different shades of black with an occasional band font, unfolded as if thrown in a hurry.

He obviously is hinting towards something, but you need some more exposition. “...Ok?”

Eddie pauses to think, hands on his hips as he racks his brain for something. “Think of it this way. Think of the one item of clothing you don’t want to find under a teenage boy’s bed, twenty years later. Especially twenty years later.” He shudders again.

The one thing…oh. “Oh my god,” you giggle, hiding your obvious glee over his disgust behind your hand. “A…sock?”

Eddie nods slowly, nodding his head in what must be mortification. “Uh huh. I am burning this whole bucket of clothes that just–” he shudders, his left foot inching towards where you had to now guess what must be an absolutely petrified cum-sock lies, “marinated in it.”

A bout of laughter passes through your lips again, disguising the odd intrigue you found yourself in. You might be more perverted than even you initially realized.

No, put away the thought of inhaling in the 20-year-old musk–

“Hey, do you mind helping me with this box? It’s ridiculously heavy,” Eddie gestures down the hall to a tote seemingly filled to the brim with random shit, the sock supposedly tossed into the garbage by then.

“No problem.”

“You want me to walk backward?” He offers, reaching your eyes as you both bend over to grab at the awkward edges.

“Yeah that’d be great,” You cough, failing to ignore the cigarette on his breath just barely disguised by the mint.

Step by step you help him around the corners until you help lift the box into his van, refusing to allow yourself more than a singular moment lingering on how his arms bulge through the lift.

Wayne had a bedside table he hadn’t gone through, filled with momentums over the years. You grab one of the smaller boxes from the living room to hold them, wanting to take care of the things that Wayne had cared for. There were a few photos, Eddie in scattered years from an angsty teenager to a rowdy kid with a missing front tooth. It was obvious everything in his bedside would be moved back to Wayne, allowing him his precious memories of the boy he cared for.

Allotted between the table and the bed is a photo album, something you suspect is cover to cover filled with more photos until you get the glimpse of a brightly coloured pape, just a millisecond but enough to peak your curiosity.

By the second page you’re in tears, softly sniffling at messy scribblings with silly puns and elaborate doodles.

“Hey, when you get a sec–” Eddie stops mid-sentence, taking you in on the bare bed as you weepily turn a page. “You okay?”

“Oh,” you wipe away the tear that was shed, embarrassed. “I’m fine. It’s just— it’s so obvious he went through this a lot, some pages are worn out.”

“Let’s see,” he holds his hand out for the photo album, a drop of weight on the bed as he peers shoulder to shoulder with you as he reads over the pages in front of you. “Oh, wow.”

You put the book in his outstretched hands, watching his expression turn misty as well. The deceitful photo album is an album of father’s day cards, about twenty of them all lined in a row with Eddie’s well wishes in each one.

“I started sending them when I was 25,” he mumbles, his voice wet as he turns a page. “I figured since he raised me n’ all, he deserved the title and the recognition.”

“Seems like he felt honored,” you comment, watching page by page.

“I picked these cards out in less than a second but he puts them in a pressed fucking photo album,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Wayne is ridiculous. But he’s always been my biggest supporter.”

Impulsively, you nudge your chin on his shoulder affectionately, watching him flip through the last through the final few pages. You wondered if his vulnerability making you even crazier for him would be an isolated incident.

God sure had a sick sense of humor when he tied emotion and lust for women.

Turns out, you two work remarkably well together because by the time Eddie places the photo album in the box with a not so subtle sniffle, Wayne’s room, kitchen, and livingroom are all packed up and ready for distribution. The things going home with Eddie and to Wayne’s room are in the van stacked like tetris with your very ‘helpful’ commentary and the donations are piled up by the front door waiting for their collection.

The little red corvette has been sitting in the hot sun for a few hours by the time you’re back into it, ready for a night off your feet.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Eddie comments, taking a turn away from your house.

Your stomach growls at the mention of food, still only two slices of toast being the one thing used to sustain your appetite for the day. “I could definitely eat.”

“Good, I need to thank you for your help.”

You avoid his intense gaze from the corner of your eye, staring holes into your thighs. “It was nothing–”

“What’s your favourite spot in town?” Eddie seems to be ignoring your protests, meeting them with an exaggerated huff as if you were acting foolish.

“I don’t mind if you take me to the nearest one, Munson. I’m starving,” you insist, laughing at the manic shaking of his head.

“I’m not taking you anywhere except your favorite spot,” Eddie insists right back, without missing a beat.

No wonder he and Steve had managed to stay friends for so long, he matches your stubbornness step for step.

“Fine! Take me to Miss.Tina’s I haven’t had their burgers since I’ve been back,” you think back to their fully stacked burgers paired with their crinkle fries drizzled in mustard. You still haven’t been able to find a burger from a local restaurant near your campus that even rivals Miss.Tina’s recipe.

“Oh, I know you’re fucking with me,” Eddie laughs, taking the left turn at the traffic lights.

“Nope,” you inform him, shaking your head slowly. “It’s always been my favourite place in town.”

“Well call that dumb luck, because it’s my fuckin’ favourite place, too.”

“I take it back.”

You laugh at his deadpan, noting the new decor around the walls since the last time you’ve seen it.

“It’s not that bad.” It is, you’re just hoping he doesn’t leave because of the change.

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie deadpans, glancing around to the updated insides now turned into a hollow husk of a restaurant. At least, it certainly felt like the funeral march of your once beloved restaurant. “It’s a horrendous study in interior design. Who the hell paints the inside of a restaurant bright orange?”

“Ok, it’s that bad, but I just need a damn good burger.” You lead the way into the line, noting their updating point of sale. Last time you were there the employee had still been using a notepad, this time an iPad had been stationed on a stand.

The employee now wears some updated uniform barring the design, a bright smile on her face as she greets the two of you. Definitely not the deadened stare you were used to.

The mustard packet you received was a third of the size of what they used to be. It seems Miss.Tina’s has finally met empty corporate capitalism.

The decor might’ve changed, but the recipes remain as always untouched, a collective groan in satisfaction in your first bites in the tacky booth confirmation that Miss.Tina’s still fucks.

“If they change their recipe they are so screwed,” Eddie says exactly what you’re thinking between bites, wiping his face from the sauces that splatters his lips. As he wipes it off, you start to think of making out with him in the booth and lapping up and cleaning his messy face for him. Some real good messy make outs.

You nod, taking a sip from the large soda that must be at least 5 ounces smaller. “Oh, they’d shut down within the week.”

“This was one of the only few places where every group in Hawkins High could be seen, because they didn’t care when we loitered and Miss.Tina treated us like her own.” Eddie glances upward at a sign right by the table, NO LOITERING.

“That’s kind of really depressing,” you sigh, munching on your fry through a fucking wooden fork. “I am not sure I want these fries lathered in mustard enough to also add the taste of wood to it.”

“Plenty of wood has been tasted in these walls before,” Eddie smirks, raising his pierced brow when you choke on the following fry.

It’s like he prides himself on how he manages to make your brain short circuit so easily. Thankfully, years of being raised in the Harrington household has trained a keen sense of wit into you. “Judging on those princess books, Munson,” you take another sip, letting the beginning of your sentence settle in, “doesn’t seem like yours was one of them.”

The fry that bounced off your forehead the moment after was worth it, and the rosy pink that bloomed across his cheeks was even more so.

-

I have 99% done at this point I’m so excited for y’all to read it!!!

Main taglist: @arlxt @alastorssimp @mmunson86 @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

Taglist for Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him: @emxxblog @transparentenemypenguin @stylesxmunson @ali-r3n @mediocredreams @miaajaade @dreamerjj @prestinalove @pretty-pink-princess @alesiaaa @moonisu @love-anonymous-writer @marlena-marlena @bl1ssfulbaby @kellsck @rockmusiciscalming12 @eddie-munsonsbitch

[flemingsfreckles]

Better Boyfriend than Him (18+) pt. 4

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: you and Jessie have your first date

Warnings: some discussion of sex, suggestive, mention on masturbation, some cursing I think

WC: 3.2k (short and sweet)

A/N: this is the most tame chapter so far, it’s also the shortest chapter so far, limited sexual content (sorry to disappoint), more smut is coming in the next part

You were in the middle of getting ready, deciding between shirts when an aggressive knocking came from your door. Checking your phone you saw it was 5:38, you had to leave to pick up Jessie in 7 minutes. You could just ignore whoever was at the door, maybe it was just a solicitor and they’d leave when they decide no one is home. That plan fails as the banging becomes more harsh.

With a frustrated huff you throw on your sleep shirt that was lying on the floor and head toward the front door. You open the door and much to your surprise, Jessie is standing in front of you. It takes a second for you to register that she’s there. She’s wearing a dress shirt and slacks and has a sport jacket in one hand and a large handful of flowers in the other.

“What are you doing here?” You don’t mean to accuse her but you were supposed to be picking her up at 6, and here she was at your doorstep.

“These are for you.” She holds out the bouquet of flowers to you. She has a shy smile on her face, for a second her appearance doesn’t seem to resemble your best friend at all. For one she rarely was dressed up like this, you had maybe seen her in a dress shirt once when she had to give a presentation and she complained about not being able to wear a regular shirt all day. She also looks nervous. Nervous wasn’t a look she expressed often, she usually was oozing with confidence, but here she was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her hand extended holding the flowers as she looked at you.

“Thanks.” You take the flowers from her and she follows you inside and to the kitchen. You dig around for a vase to put the flowers in and end up just picking a large water bottle, not having a vase as a college student. Before you’re able to scold her for being so early and throwing off your plans Jessie starts to explain herself.

“Sorry I’m early, and I know you were supposed to be picking me up, I just got nervous at home and I panicked and you’re the one I come to when I’m nervous so that’s what I did.” She’s playing with her fingers, cracking her knuckles and picking at her skin on her thumb.

“That’s okay.” You can tell she’s nervous and unsure so you decide against telling her off for messing up your scheduling. “I just need to finish getting ready, I thought I had a few more minutes. Just give me a second, okay?”

“Yeah, sorry again.” Jessie apologies as she moves over to your couch. Giving her one last look with a smile you head back into your bedroom.

Back in your room you rummage through your closet, still not being able to pick out what to wear. If this was any other day and you were unsure of an outfit you’d call Jessie You’d FaceTime her, shower her the options and asking which top you should wear on your date. Only you couldn’t call her now since she was the date. She was waiting in the other room, you couldn’t call her.

Nerves were starting to build in your stomach, maybe this was a bad idea. You take a deep breath, feeling lightheaded suddenly at the realization that you were about to try and date your best friend. Moving across the room, you sit down on your bed. You sit for a minute, trying to not think of all the things that could go wrong, except it seems all you can think of are all the things that could go so very wrong.

If this goes poorly you could never see her again. You’d never be able to text her, you’d never talk with her late into the night. No more coffee runs, no more drives in the car, no more studying and helping her with classes, none of it. She’d no longer be your friend, your friend with benefit, she’d become a stranger. No more passing notes in class when you’re both too bored to pay attention. No more sharing a blanket on the couch where you both fall asleep and you wake up nuzzled into her. No more calling her when you need advice. She’d be gone from your life if these dates fail. Feeling your chest get tight you lay back resting your head on the bed, trying to force air into your lungs as you breathe.

Focusing on breathing, a usual mindless habit, becomes harder than you ever thought it could be. Your small panic attack is interrupted by a soft knock on the door. You don’t say anything and the door handle turns and in walks Jessie.

“Are you alright?” You hadn’t realized how much time had passed, it was nearing ten past six.

You sit up looking at her, you can feel the tears welling in your eyes and you probably have red cheeks from struggling to breathe for the past couple of minutes.

“Hey what’s wrong?” Jessie says seeing your appearance. She moves over to sit next to you, wrapping her arm around your waist. She holds you tight, it relaxes you for a moment. The relaxation is quickly replaced with more nerves when you have the thought that if your date goes poorly, you wouldn’t be able to get this comfort from Jessie anymore. You stand up, out of her grasp and move away from her.

“I just don’t want to ruin this.” You gesture between the two of you. “What if we go on this date and you decide you want nothing to do with me and then we’re not friends anymore. I can’t lose you, you’re everything to me, I can’t lose my best friend.” The tears spill over as you explain yourself to Jessie.

“You’re not going to lose me.” She shakes her head at you.

“You can’t guarantee that.” A bubble of anger builds up inside your chest, she can’t just sit here and claim everything will be fine, that’s impossible for her to know, she can’t just make that false promise to you.

“I can, because I know I’m not walking away from you.” She stands up to move in front of you. “Look, even if this dating idea doesn’t work, I’ll need you in my life too. You don’t think I’m nervous too? Fuck, I’m over here worried that you’ll realize you don’t even want to date another girl.”

“Oh.” You let a small laugh escape from your lips, you hadn’t thought about the fact that Jessie would be the only girl you’ve attempted to date. Listening to her admit her own concerns make yours seem less scary, you both are in this together. Suddenly your fears start to slip away.

“Why are you laughing?” Jessie’s tone seemed upset.

“Just this feels silly, that we’re both nervous, like we already practically act like we’re dating, just without the label. We get dinner together, we hang out everyday, we sleep at each other's houses, and now we have sex. Is it silly that we’re being so nervous?”

“Yeah I guess it is.” She gives you a smile. “Are we still doing this then?”

“Only if you want? Because I do, I want to.” You respond to her.

“I want to too.”

“Okay then get out, let me finally pick a shirt and I’ll be out. Maybe we can pretend this part didn’t happen?” You gently shove her toward the door.

“As a friend, I’d wear the white top.” She adds before she walks out of your room, closing the door behind her. You smile to yourself realizing she knew that your concerns and panic had stemmed from being unable to pick between two shirts, the two shirts had been laying on your bed next to where she had sat. It made you feel reassured, at the base of everything, she was your friend first, your date second.

You move over, throwing the white top on before looking in the mirror fixing your hair and taking a deep breath looking at yourself, the tears that came down your face tried, leaving small streaks. It’s not like you had to hide that you had cried, she was there when the tears came out. You give yourself another look over before walking out and back into the living room where Jessie was standing, pacing across the room.

“Hi.” You get her attention. She turns to look at you and you see her eyes scan up and down your body.

“You look good, especially that top.” She winks at you. Her eyes trailing back down to your shirt.

“Thanks, my best friend helped me pick it. Ready to go?”

“Where are we going?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” You grab her hand and your keys and pull her out the door. What Jessie didn’t know was the second you left her apartment earlier you had called in an order to your favorite local restaurant, ordering a small feast of sandwiches, sides, and desserts for you to pick up.

You walk to the car and Jessie drops your hand running head of you and attempts to open your door for you. She pulls on the handle but the door is locked, you hold her keys up in her direction.

“Unlock it, I’m trying to be romantic and open your door for you.” She complains to you. You unlock the car, letting her open your door. She closes it once you’re in and does a quick run to the passenger side before getting in herself.

You drive to the restaurant, parking and telling Jessie you’ll be right back. You run in and grab the food, coming back to the car and placing it in the trunk where you had already packed drinks and a blanket. You hop back in the driver's seat and start up the car again. It’s quiet between the two of you, not uncomfortable silence but just quiet, the music playing filling the car.

After a few minutes of driving you pull into a vacant parking lot on a golf course situated on the top of a hill.

“You know I play soccer not golf right?” Jessie says, realizing where you were.

“The course is closed anyway, we’re not golfing.” You say to her.

You park and unbuckle before getting out of the car. Jessie meets you at the trunk and helps you carry the food along with the drinks and blanket.

“Go ahead and just put the blanket down over there.” You point at an open patch of grass.

She lays out the blanket and you place the food down before taking off your shoes and climbing onto the blanket.

“Sit.” Patting the space next to you to get her to sit down. She listens and removes her shoes as well before sitting next to you.

“This is my favorite place to watch the sunset.” Telling her why you brought her to the top of an empty golf course. “I figured we could have dinner and watch it.” You gesture to the picnic in front of you.

As time passes you feel yourself relax, feeling like it was less of a date and more just spending time with Jessie. You talk about school for a bit, bringing up the exams you have coming up. The two of you pass food back and forth, sharing nearly everything you had ordered, each having a beer from the pack. Jessie talks about soccer, you both talk about your families, excited to go home and see them at the holiday break. You break open the desserts just as the sun begins to hide. It was easy being with her.

You both watch the sunset, the sun disappearing and leaving behind the cold night. You shiver, without the sun you wish you had brought a jacket. Jessie must have noticed and she’s suddenly removing her sport coat and moving to wrap it around your body.

“Thanks.” She just smiles back at you. When she sits back down she sits closer, your legs touching.

“You know,” you nudge her knee with yours, “for someone who claims they don’t know how to date you sure are doing all the right things.”

“What does that mean?” Jessie can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic with her or serious by your comment.

“You brought flowers, opened the car door, and gave me your jacket. All those things, very chivalrous of you.”

“I’m just trying, is it too much?” You realize maybe your intended compliment has not been received well.

“No, no Jess, I really, it’s been, you’re doing perfect.” You turn to her, putting your hand on her arm to reassure her. She turns and now you’re face to face.

It was funny, as she sits here looking back at you, you suddenly feel the nerves of the first date coming back. It’s as if you had never kissed her before, as if just a couple of hours ago she hadn’t had you bent over naked screaming her name. You were frozen, wanting to lean in and put your lips on hers but feeling unsure of how to. You find your eyes moving between her lips and eyes. Her tongue quickly peaks out, wetting her bottom lip. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you both lean in.

Something about this felt so different, you had kissed Jessie maybe 100 times at this point through the weeks, but there was something so soft and gentle and innocent about the kiss you shared.

Her lips were soft, gently pressed against yours, no intention behind them, no slip of her tongue, no wandering hands, just her lips against yours. Her hand is placed on your cheek, it’s cold from the nighttime air and is a strong contrast from her lips. She pulls away after only a couple of seconds, a smile pulling at her lips.

You don’t say anything, both of you just silently processing your first kiss, not as friends. That’s when you feel the first rain drop. It lands on your nose and then you see one hit her face as well. Within seconds the sky opens up and rain comes falling down.

You both let out a squeal and jump up, grabbing the remains of your picnic as quickly as possible and making a dash to the car. You throw everything into the car, not caring where it ends up before jumping in the front seat slamming the door behind you. Just the sound of you both breathing heavily from running and the initial shock of the rain fills the car.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say this was intentional. You were trying to make me wet.” Jessie gives you a suggestive glance.

“No actually, just forgot to check the weather. Sorry about that.” You peel off the coat she had given you and pass it back to her. You start the car, turning on the heat to warm you both up before you pull out of the parking lot and head in the direction of Jessie’s apartment.

“Let me at least walk you to the door.” You say as you pull in front of her house. You couldn’t lie, you maybe had the intention of walking her to the door, and following her inside and into her bedroom, but you weren’t going to say that out loud. You both get out of the car and make a quick dash out of the rain and toward her door. You follow here and you both squeeze under the small awning above her door. She places her hand on the doorknob and then turns back to you.

“I had a really nice time tonight.” Jessie then laughs at her own sentence. “Sorry that sounded too cliche. But really, I know we hang out all the time anyway but, I enjoy spending time with you, a lot.”

“I like spending time with you too Jessie.” It felt funny to be saying this to her, she obviously knew you liked spending time with her, that’s why you were friends in the first place.

“Can we do this again?” You were a little taken aback by Jessie’s question, sure you figured the date went well but with her history of not dating, you weren’t fully expecting her to initiate further dates.

“Yeah, we can.” A huge smile breaks onto your face as you look at Jessie, this could work.

“I’ll send you details then.” She holds up her phone, giving it a shake before sliding it into her pant pocket.

She takes a step closer to you and her hand finds your chin. She tilts your head up gently and meets your lips with hers in another soft kiss. You try to push her, letting your lips open a bit for her tongue to meet yours, but her lips stay tightly closed against yours.

“I don’t fuck on the first date.” She whispers in your ear as she pulls back from your kiss. The feeling of her breath on your ear has goosebumps trailing across your skin. The words she spoke sounded so innocent and yet so dirty coming from her mouth that it made you want to jump her bones in the hallway of her apartment. You knew she was just throwing your own words about not kissing before the first date back at you so you roll your eyes at her.

“Have a good night.” She gives you one last look, a cocky smirk across her lips before she turns back and opens her apartment door.

“Thanks, you too.” You say before her door finally shuts and you’re face to face with the wood panel. That was definitely not how you had expected the night to end. If you were confident about anything going into the date it was that you were going to end up naked under Jessie with her name falling from your lips at the end of the night. And yet here you stood, alone, fully clothed, with nothing more than a kiss to hold you over until the next date. For some reason you were filled with warmth even though you were going home to sleep in an empty bed, it felt like the opposite of lonely as you walked away from her door.

While you would have loved to be under Jessie at the moment, something felt reassuring that you both hadn’t immediately jumped into bed. She was treating you differently than other girls and she was treating this differently than when the two of you had just been friends with benefits.

You’re only a few steps away from Jessie’s door when she texts you and her cocky personality returns.

Jessie 🦖: feel free to dream about me tonight when you go to sleep

Jessie 🦖: or when you’re touching yourself later, I don’t mind ;)