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keikikait · 4 months

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ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ (ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part 2 of my previous fic, which you can find here

for my other gojo smut, click here!

pairing: gojo x f!reader (not au, gojo is 29, reader is early-mid 20’s)

word count: 2.5k

summary: you’re home from your teacher retreat to nikko, ready for the new term. what you’re not ready for? gojo to come home to you.

warnings: (FOR THIS PART) SMUT - 18+ ONLY! MDNI, dom!gojo and sub!reader, protected sex (pill, not mentioned but its there) degrading (he uses the word slut), hair pulling, nipple play, spitplay (bye….), light edging, finger/thumb sucking (don’t look at me), use of the words [cock, cunt, and tits], slight oral (f receiving), a bit of angst & a bit of mean gojo, nickname use [baby, pretty girl, doll], no use of y/n

a note: i know i said this would be out next week but it was my day off so i wrote it all today. this is less angst, more smut, but i can’t help myself so there is some angst. also, im sorry i made gojo such an asshole, i promise that he will get better! part 3 will be out soon my loves.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Your eyes are already open when your alarm goes off.

You didn’t sleep at all. There was no point, even after you finished crying your head hurt too much to sleep, even with some painkillers. You laid there, wide awake all night thinking about Gojo. Did he think of you, too? You turn the alarm off and slide out of bed, your slipper-covered feet shuffling as you make your way around your apartment.

You brush your teeth and look in the mirror. Your eyes are puffy and swollen, mascara smeared down your cheeks. You pop some spoons in the freezer to cool as you clean yourself up and get dressed. Your phone sits untouched on the bedside table, still plugged in.

You sit on the side of your bed, pressing the now cold spoons against your swollen eyes. You take deep breaths, trying to relax. You had every right to be upset, after all. Gojo has no reason to string you along, whispering sweet nothings in your ear at night about how you’re his girl, his doll, his everything. But that’s exactly what that was. Nothing. Maybe, you think, this is some kind of karma. Some sort of punishment for your arrogance, for thinking you could have what everyone else wants, Gojo, and here—at last—it was.

You put on some de-puffing undereye patches that you keep in the fridge and clean your entire apartment spotless to distract yourself, music blasting from the phone in your back pocket. You finally throw out that dead fern you got as a gift from the school board when you first started, and you finally clean out your fridge of the now moldy condiments you tried once on a whim. You’re washing dishes when the front door opens and, suddenly, Gojo steps inside. He had opted for his dark blue circular sunglasses today, an odd choice for the winter but you didn’t mind it. “Hi,” you say, surprised, pulling off the bright marigold gloves and setting them on the side of the sink to dry. For a second, you think about the absolute state of your eyes. The swelling and puffiness had gone down, and even though he had never seen you cry, you think about the fact that even if he noticed your eyes he wouldn’t care enough to ask questions.

“Hey,” is all Gojo says in response. You wait to see if he says anything else, or if he is going to try to explain himself, but he doesn’t, and eventually moves across your apartment to head to the bathroom. You hesitate before you make your way after him, passing his duffel bag on the floor of your closet, which was unzipped and filled with enough clothes that it was clear that he was going to stay for a while.

You feel pathetic admitting it to yourself but having Gojo there — not just in your apartment, but in your room — feels nice. He doesn’t speak to you yet, but his very presence steadies and refocuses you. As grateful as you are that he came back to you, you are also a little disappointed in yourself, by how dependent you are, how weak. Who were you without him?

Eventually, he faces you, peering at you over the top of his glasses. “Hey, pretty girl.”

You swallow hard, willing yourself to be strong, to finally confront him about all of the false promises and the date with Himiko, but you can’t. Not yet. “Hi, Gojo.”

He smiles, reaching you with just one step and collecting you in his arms, wrapping them tightly around your hips. He leans down and kisses you, for the first time in almost nine days, and you feel yourself giving up, giving all power to him.

After a few seconds, he pulls away, smirking. “I missed you. I’m sorry that I didn’t come home last night…I got carried away.”

You’ve noticed over the past eleven months (yes, you kept track) of your situationship that he uses that term a lot; carried away. He uses it when he gets a little too handsy during the free periods at work and when he stares at you a bit too long during staff meetings. He uses it when he forgets to call or text you and when it seems like you’re the last thing on his mind. Maybe you are.

You smile, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I’m just glad you’re here now.”

He grins, gently running his hands up your back, lightly scratching his nails against you, making you shiver. “Of course. I always come back home to you.” He bends at the knees and picks you up, carrying you the short distance to your bed before laying you down and climbing on top of you. Excitement fills your body as he leans down and starts placing soft kisses along your neck. You arch into him, whining and tugging on his sleeves, and he chuckles. “Relax, doll. Quit acting so desperate. You’re not in charge here, remember?”

You feel drool pool in your mouth and you quickly swallow it. “I’m sorry, Gojo, it’s just that —”

He interrupts you, sliding his thumb into your mouth to shut you up. “I know, baby, I know. You went eight whole days without my touch and now you’re acting like a desperate little slut,” You nod, hoping he won’t tease you this time. He smirks at the dumb look on your face before saying, “Open.” You do, opening your mouth wide and sticking your tongue out a little. He pulls his thumb away and draws back briefly before spitting into your open mouth. You swallow it without his command. You know what he likes.

He grins, kissing your lips once more before kissing down your chin and neck, slowly sliding off your t-shirt. You whine and squirm under him, and after he pulls your shirt off he clamps his hand over your mouth. “Shut up. If you keep whining, I won’t fuck you at all. Is that what you want?” You shake your head vigorously, that’s the last thing you want. He removes his hand before continuing, “Good. Don’t speak unless I tell you to,” You nod, relaxing into your sheets as he kisses down your chest. He pushes your bra up over your tits, groaning as he squeezes them in his hands. “Fuck. I missed my girls.” You would normally scold him for objectifying you, but at this moment you didn’t care. You wanted his hands on you, and you wanted his dick inside of you as soon as possible.

He takes the sunglasses off and brings one of your nipples to his mouth, lightly brushing his lips against it to tease you. He sticks his tongue out and drags it along your nipple in circles, loving the way your thighs fall open and the little sounds you make. He finally, finally sucks your nipple into his mouth, pinching the other one hard just to feel you squirm. He rolls your bare nipple between his fingers while he lightly nibbles on the one in his mouth. Your head is spinning, and all you can do is tug on his hair as he teases you. He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting it to his lips. He picks it up on his finger and rubs it on your face just to humiliate you.

He kisses down your torso, tugging down your pyjama bottoms and tossing them onto the floor. He kisses your thighs as he pushes them up and against your chest so you’re nice and spread out for him, just as he likes. He notices the wet spot on your plain blue cotton underwear and smirks, rubbing at it with his thumb. “Someone’s eager, aren’t they?”

You take it you can respond to him now. “Fuck, Gojo, please! Please stop teasing me, I already went eight days without you.” The whine in your voice makes him feel so big, so powerful. He barely touches you and you’re already crumbling at his feet. Maybe he should keep you there.

He makes that condescending tsk tsk tsk sound that normally annoys you, but now you can’t help it and you whine and squirm even more. “You’re so desperate, baby. You can’t even handle a little teasing?” He presses his thumb right against your clit, the wet spot spreads even more. “I guess you do have a point, though. I haven’t made you cum since we left for Nikko.” He kisses right above the hem of your underwear before pulling it down, the blue fabric now dangling around your ankle. He moans, pushing your legs back even further and spreading your cunt.

He spits directly onto your pink little hole, watching as it mixes with your juices. In this moment, you’re his. You’re his everything, his girl, his doll. In this moment you actually mean something to him, when you’re spread out and begging for his attention. He runs his pointer finger down your slit, collecting some spit before dragging it back up to your clit and lightly circling it.

You almost cum on the spot. Days of pent-up horniness and teasing and you’re as sensitive as ever. You bite your lip, looking over at him with nothing but love and affection in your gaze. “Please, Gojo. Please don’t tease me. I don’t know if I can handle it.”

He gets comfortable, moving your thighs over his shoulders as he lays down on the bed. “You’ll take what I give you. Don’t disappoint me.” He circles your clit with his finger one last time before leaning down and sucking it into his mouth. You arch your back, your hands finding solace in his hair as you writhe and moan. He moans at your taste, gripping your hips hard as he gets lost in your cute little cunt. You grind against his face, and he lets you, loving the feeling of your clit against his tongue. He teases your hole with his fingers, sliding his thumb in as he swirls his tongue around your clit in circles. You clench up tight, mumbling praises along with I’m gonna cum! Please let me cum! before he pulls away completely. He laughs at the noise you make, and at the way your face contorts and tears well in your eyes. He slaps the inside of your thigh before standing up and unbuttoning his pants. “Oh, come on. Be a good girl for me, okay?”

You move up on the bed, your back supported by your pillows as he climbs over you. You’ve seen his dick a lot, more times than you can count, but the sheer size of it always surprises you. Thick and long, slightly curved to the left, with a pretty pink tip to match. His balls are big, too, full of cum and practically begging to be in your mouth, which waters as soon as you see it.

Gojo looms over you, pushing you onto the bed as he slides in between your legs and gets comfortable. He rubs his tip against you, getting it nice and wet so you don’t struggle with the size as he fucks you, at least not too much. In a moment of pure intimacy, he reaches his hand up and rubs his thumb against your cheek, looking at you with an almost adoring gaze. You go to say something to him but all words escape your throat as he pushes his cock into you. You both moan in unison as he slides in and out slowly.

“God,” he groans, leaning down on his elbows and getting right in your face. “I missed you so much, baby. I know I’m such a dick to you, I just can’t help it, you look so cute when you’re angry…fuck, you feel so good.” He isn’t vocal in bed very often, and your heart swells as you get to watch him come undone and make such pretty noises as he does.

In the heat of the moment, you forgive him. You know you’ll probably regret it, but you can’t stay mad at him when he’s looking at you like you’re the only woman in the world for him. Your smile is cut short by your moan as you manage to say, “It’s okay, Gojo. Please just stay here. Stay here with me.”

Gojo nods, propping himself up on one flat palm as his hips pick up speed. Normally he loves foreplay, he can tease you and edge you for hours, but the time spent without you in his arms and without you wrapped around his cock was too much to bare for him. He knows he fucked up, but he can’t take it back. He’s Satoru Gojo, and he has a reputation he needs to uphold. He’s all run, and you’re all fight, and that’s part of the reason why he feels so drawn to you.

He looks at you, moving to his elbows and reaching up to grab your face and pull you into a kiss. He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, biting his lip as his hips move even faster. He drops back down to his elbows, your chests pressed together as he shakily moans, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, doll, I’m gonna cum.”

You nod, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck as you cum around him, clenching down on his cock. He buries his face in your neck as he cums after you, cumming inside of you, like he always does. His breathing is ragged as he lays there, his cock twitching inside of you as his cum spills inside. Gojo eventually moves away from your neck, some of his hair matted to his forehead, slick with sweat. You push the hair back and smile at him, kissing his forehead gently. Even if he didn’t love you, you still loved him. And you think you always will.

He pulls out, immediately getting you a towel splashed with some warm water as he cleans you up. He’s gentle with his aftercare, making sure you’re comfortable, and collecting your water bottle from the living room. You pee before getting dressed, laying with him on the bed. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, pressing your face into his chest, and sliding his hand into your hair. He holds you there for a while, your breathing in sync before he leans down and kisses your forehead.

Gojo puts on a cooking show to watch on your TV, setting the remote aside as he holds you close. He strokes your hair, and your mind starts to drift, and you wonder if he cares about you in the same way you care about him. Are you not good enough for him? Is there something wrong with you? Are you not what he wants? Are you not what he needs? You wake up every morning, hopeful for what’s to come with him, but you spend most of your time thinking about what you’ve already had and what he’s already said to you. You’re missing all these memories—maybe they were never even yours.

Nothing hurts like he does.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part 3 is here

#keikiwrites #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #dom!gojo #sub!reader #f!reader #✿: gojo!

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porcelainseashore · 1 month

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Into the Ether (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Authors' Note: Super excited for this crossover series! I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule on Wednesdays. I might take some liberties with VtM lore and mechanics to fit the story, but hope to stay as true as I can to the source material. Finally, I imagined RE2R Leon (my favorite!) in this role 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: RC By Night

You first saw him in summer, when the days were long and the nights were short, and the streets came to life again. There was the heady smell of pollen in the air and the humidity was sweltering. Just a couple of months after you and a bunch of idealistic friends from your theater school days had taken the plunge, and opened an all-night cafe in one of the cheaper, grittier areas of town, east of the river of Raccoon City.

It had been a scrappy little project, one you didn’t expect to receive a cult following and gain in popularity amongst the intellectuals and counterculture crowd. But then again, there was also the City College nearby and the events program you’d lined up each week drew them in. From comedy nights and disco fevers to site-specific and performance art, you knew what people liked and how they wanted to be entertained. A bit of kitsch, a sprinkle of avant-garde and a generous dose of unpretentious social drinking. It pulled him in too.

Him. You didn’t even know his name. The first thing you had noticed were his striking blue eyes that seemed to glow from the shadows of the dimly lit space, peering out at you. Always observing, always watching, never speaking. Sometimes he’d glance over across the opposite end of the room at another pair of companions — a rugged, broad-shouldered man with a dark crew cut bumping shoulders with a younger, spunky redhead in a matching biker jacket. They’d exchange subtle looks of recognition and mild suspicion before returning to whatever they were doing. Though they never uttered a single word to each other.

He came back week after week, ordering the same drink each time, but never touching it. One Manhattan, please. You obliged. A waitress you had sent over to pry on your behalf told you he enjoyed the cocktail, but couldn’t tolerate much alcohol. You saw him lift the drink to his nose, sniffing it as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, silently smiling to himself before he placed it back down on the table again. Strange. You shook your head and prepared a cup of black coffee, taking it over to him as his eyes lit up in surprise with your approach.

“On the house,” you explained, plonking it down on the table. He raised an eyebrow but remained tight-lipped.

Maybe he didn’t like coffee? Or how did he usually take it? “Uh—” you turned back towards the service area, as if to check that the condiments were still in place. “Would you like some creamer or sugar to go with it?”

He raised his hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary and his jaw clenched, before fixing it into an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Those were the first words he had spoken to you. It rolled off his tongue like a swirl of mist, a sliver of a dream you couldn’t quite remember when waking up. You took another step forward to get a better look at him. He had a baby face, angelic almost, with that typical, boy next door charm your mom would have gushed at, and you imagined he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. Upon closer inspection, he seemed slightly pale, faint dark circles around his eyes that had seen more than his fair share for his age. There was a sense of weariness and jadedness behind them that made him appear older than he was.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped a small mouthful, letting it sit for a moment, before swallowing it down languidly. You admired the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as the liquid poured down his throat, littered with freckles and specks of moles. Something about his very presence mesmerized you, even more so than earlier. It was hard to place a finger on what it was exactly, and why this feeling seemed to grow with every second you were lingering near him.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it on the table before offering one to you. Why not? You were a social smoker and took it as a sign to join him. In fact, there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment. You were confused, but did not question it as you took a seat beside him, noticing that he flinched each time he flicked open his lighter to ignite a flame.

His fingertips brushed across your wrist as he lit your cigarette, causing you to shiver in response, while his jaw tensed again, as if trying to rein something in. Licking his lips, he took a puff from his own, exhaling the smoke as it billowed around him and for a second you thought you’d lost him to a wall of fog. Both of you continued smoking in silence, checking in with each other through furtive glances, even though there was nothing to be ashamed about.

At some point, you followed the direction of his gaze and saw that same pair of companions he often regarded from the corner of his eye. They were frowning, giving him dirty looks as he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” you broke through the thick stillness of the air that surrounded the both of you like a bubble, separated from the rest of the evening revelers.

“You’re observant,” he teased, his eyes crinkling as he stubbed out the leftovers of his cigarette in the ashtray. You followed suit.

“So, what brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to the suit attire sans tie that he was wearing. “Don’t get me wrong, but this place doesn’t exactly seem like the kind you types hang out at.”

“Hm,” he huffed, though your question didn’t phase him. “And what exactly is my type?”

“I’d say you were a yuppie,” you blurted out, your mouth rarely had a filter on these days. “But I can’t be sure, something about you seems…”

“Off?” he offered, smirking, yet his expression carried a hint of somberness.

“Different,” you corrected, but mumbled out a quick apology nonetheless soon after.

“Don’t be,” he grazed your hand again as he adjusted himself in his chair, and you felt like he was doing this on purpose. “At least you’re honest. It’s a rare quality to find these days.” Though the way he said the last sentence sounded loaded with a double meaning.

“These days?” you guffawed. “You’re speaking like an old man.”

He joined in your laughter though that was the end of your conversation for that night. The rest of the evening went by in a blind haze, and you found yourself in a dazed state later on in the wee hours of the morning, still sitting at the same table, but your newfound friend gone without a trace. None of your colleagues had noticed a thing. You didn’t even get his name, but you shook yourself, commanding your limbs to get back to business and clean up after the customers that had left.

The next time you saw him was when you were hosting the karaoke night of the month. Decked out in a shimmery mermaid glitter jumpsuit, hair tied up in pigtails and face caked with extravagant make up, you hopped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble on your flimsy heels when those piercing blue eyes landed on you from the all the way back. Of all the nights he could have dropped in, he chose this one.

You suppressed your embarrassment and warmed up the audience with a couple of well-placed jokes before kicking the event off with those who had registered to participate. It appeared to be a tough crowd as you only had a handful of sign ups, and would need to potentially seek out volunteers when they were done. You hoped the rackety sound system would hold up till then too.

Fortunately, when it came to the crunch — which it did — you always had an ace up your sleeve. “You there,” you called out, pointing towards the back of the room. “Yeah, blue eyes, you.” Crooking your finger, you beckoned him over, waiting in anticipation to see what he would do.

To your surprise, he bowed his head, accepting the challenge, before slowly weaving his way through the crowd, who were cheering him on with your prompting, towards the stage. He flashed you his pearly whites as he climbed up the short stairs, his floppy bangs bouncing with each step. For a moment, you thought you caught something feral in his gaze, but it dissipated when he reached out for the mic from you, his hands sweeping over yours with an electric touch.

You were in awe of him, like almost everyone else in the cafe, when he broke out in a rich tenor voice, effortlessly floating through the notes of the gentle melody, that you felt as though you were being wrapped in a serene, velvet cocoon. Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the space when he finished. The only two people in the room who were scowling were the same pair of companions he knew from before.

“Will you join me after the show?” he whispered in your ear as he handed you back the mic. Nodding was the only appropriate response.

You were rushed off your feet for the next couple of hours and it was late by the time you called the event to a close, but he was still there, by his usual table, waiting patiently for you.

“So you decided to push me into the spotlight,” he accused with a wry smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” you shot back. “Here.” You set a cup of black coffee down in front of him. “My treat.”

“You’re too kind.” It sounded flat, like a game that had become routine between the two of you. He took a sip from it, nothing more, nothing less.

That was all you could recall from your conversation. You didn’t get his name until a few nights after.

“Hey, blue eyes,” you acknowledged as he strolled in.

“Leon,” he disclosed sharply. “It’s Leon.”

That was the night of exchanging introductions. You named all the nights you’d spent with him under various labels, so you wouldn’t forget.

Another night, he had whipped out a flip phone and you nearly choked on your drink. “They still make those?” You stared in disbelief.

He turned to face you in amusement.

“Bet you don’t have a—”

You didn’t even need to finish your sentence for him to fish out his pager, dangling it in front of you like a toy.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “No fucking way.”

He grinned at your outburst and it was one of those times, few and far between, where you experienced a glimpse of that youthful energy he often hid behind a calm, matured facade.

“You’re still living in the 90s dude?” you jested, grabbing the pager as you flipped it over, trying to determine if it was real. It was.

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

“Healthcare,” you guessed, squinting at him. “I heard people there still have them. You’re a doctor?”

“I wish.” He coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, before rummaging through his wallet for a sleek white card, sliding over to you. “PI, actually.”

“Private Investigator Leon S. Kennedy,” you read the title out loud, deliberately emphasizing each word.

“Go ahead, shout it from the rooftops,” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me.” You gave what you hoped was a cheeky wink, not flirty, definitely not flirty.

A lopsided smile spread across his face, and you wondered if you were finally beginning to unravel the mystery of this man, one that he seemed to carry around like a burden.

“Well, now you know where to find me.” He winked back, taking a tiny sip of his free coffee.

That was the night of P.I. Kennedy. Soon, these nights blurred into each other. You felt like you were getting a step closer, but yet you weren’t. He always had you at an arm’s length for some reason, even though he seemed to want more. Why did he keep coming back?

He also appeared to care about what you thought of him. At some point forth, he started dressing down, exchanging his usual formal attire for a shirt with no blazer, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A fine gold chain necklace peeked out from underneath his top collar, which was left unbuttoned. “Better like this?” he asked with no context. You had to pause and consider what he meant for a while before you understood.

“If you’d like to fit in.” You shrugged indifferently. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“You know me well,” he murmured fondly. The back of his fingers caressed the side of your neck, just under your jawline, along a pulse point. You closed your eyes and sighed. It felt sensitive and tender.

“And how well do you know me?” you asked.

There was no reply, but somehow you already knew the answer.

Another thing you were vaguely aware of was that you kept missing the tail end of your interactions with him. It was as though after a certain point in the night, you would come to, like waking up from a daydream, and he would have disappeared by then.

Your colleagues asked if you were seeing each other. Were you? You were only chatting, you surmised. Nothing had gone that far yet, at least from what you had gathered. But you liked him more than you would’ve liked to admit.

He walked you home one night, and when you reached your doorstep, you were about to invite him in, but he interrupted you. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Guilt clouded his eyes, unmistakable and heavy. But as he was about to say more, he held back, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Then, you felt yourself overcome with tiredness, but it was pleasant and comforting. “Can you help me to bed?” Your voice sounded far away.

All at once, you felt yourself being propped up under his arm and your weight shifting under your feet, until your head touched a feather-soft pillow. He draped a blanket over your unmoving body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have—” Even in your state, you could tell it pained him.

“I won’t do it again, unless you let me.”

That was the last you heard from him for a while.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon couldn’t get enough of you. Believe him, he tried countless times, but it didn’t work. From the moment he had set foot into that establishment, he had damned himself. He knew it when he spotted you and smelled your sanguine resonance from afar. It was the humor of your blood, and it was stronger and more consistent than he was used to. You were just so full of life, and enjoying it to the point where he was envious. You signified all the hopes and dreams that had been dashed spectacularly to the ground, ever since becoming… what he was now.

He had to have a taste of you. A little drop wouldn’t hurt, would it? He’d been taught ages ago, by Ada, his sire, that he needed people like you to survive. If one ignored their hunger for too long, things would get worse, so much worse, and not just for himself, but for everyone else around him. It was simply the lesser of two evils to feed, and he’d never actually killed anyone by doing so. Then, why did it feel so wrong? He had gotten good at pushing down these thoughts, until they were reduced to an inaudible hum at the back of his mind. Just like many other things, he learnt to compromise. But compromising meant that sometimes, he’d lose a piece of himself. If there was an equivalent of a soul within the monster he had become, then it was fragmented, and he’d never get back the ones that had dissolved into the ether, due to the bad decisions he had made. Like the ones he would soon make with you.

Taste. Taste was something he had acquired since young. In his human life, he always had an eye for detail, an eye for what fit, what worked, and what didn’t. It certainly helped when he became a cold case detective with the police force, filled with unbridled potential, only to have that overturned, when he decided to chase after love instead of missing people and puzzle pieces. For years, he would’ve done anything for her, only for it to amount to wasted time and regret when the inevitable boredom that came with time struck, and he was tossed aside over something exciting and new. Still, he knew a delicious vessel when he saw one. You were just meant to be a special curiosity that he could pass on to the older vampire for a favor or two. At least, that was what he told himself, when you took the initial bait and he beckoned you to stay through unnatural means. That was the first lie.

When he bit into you, he was met with a burst of color, vibrant shades of all kinds of red. The flavor saturated his mouth: sweet roses, his favorite kind, their scent carried on a gentle zephyr; warm light that enveloped him but didn’t hurt; traces of nicotine coursing through your veins; and the familiar iron tang that gave it its kick. Your face, your voice, your very essence haunted him in that taste. He could see you like a will-o'-the-wisp performing on stage in one of your many plays across a lifetime, laughing with your friends in the back of a car speeding down the highway, crying into a pillow when you had your heart broken by your first love… How was this possible? Your memories came flooding through him and you were blissfully unaware of it all. He felt like a spy, listening in to all your secrets and desires, and his blatant invasion of your privacy disgusted him.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t have gotten so close. He should’ve heeded the warning glances the Redfield siblings were throwing his way. So, he tried his best to stay away, but like an addict, he kept crawling back, seeking you out like a dog with its tail between its legs. How could a mere mortal have such an effect on him? Did he taste this way to Ada when she turned him? He laughed sardonically. If only she could see him now, being so torn up over a woman he had just met.

He tried to erase you from his mind, but you were always meant to be something more. You reminded him of all the things he missed when he was living. You were the best he had ever tasted, but he didn’t want to turn you over to her, not yet. After all, he could afford to enjoy you for just one more time. The second lie had spun its thick, dark webs throughout his head. Truth be told, he would never share you with anyone else.

The third lie came when he resolved to tell you what he really was. He couldn’t keep going on like this and deceiving you, but his sire’s words bore down on him. “You don’t get attached to a vessel,” she scoffed. Wait, wasn’t he one too at some point? Her contradictory words replayed in his ears like a broken record. In any case, he wasn’t attached. He was being brave and honest, which was how he liked to think of himself. But when it came to the crunch outside your doorstep, he was a coward, finding himself unable to breach the rules of the Masquerade and gave in to his urges instead. It was then that he realized deep down, he was truly a despicable and hateful low-life.

Thump! He felt his body slam against a solid wall, as he entered a secluded alleyway round the corner from your apartment. A dull ache bloomed across his skin. After the events that had happened that night, he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. He slumped down until the brawny, older male sibling, Chris, lifted him by his collar and pinned him in place. At the same time, the slender redhead, Claire, Chris’ female counterpart, spoke, “Where the hell are you going with this, Leon?”

“Why do you care?” he spat, blood coating his teeth. “The cafe’s in neutral ground, no one’s claimed domain over it yet. I can feed on whoever I like.”

“Listen, you’re Cam scum, but you saved my brother back then, and you used to hang with us,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder to emphasize each point. “So, I’m gonna give you a tip, but just this once.”

She brought her mouth to his ear. “There’s interest in the domain… and you’re not the only suitor vying for her attention.”

His eyes widened at the threat.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #porcelainscribbles

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ichorai · 1 year

Text

blueberries ; four.

pairing ; joey tribbiani x gn!reader chapter synopsis ; the one with break ups, sex dreams, and hospital waiting rooms. wc ; 10.8k warnings / includes ; talks of sex/suggestive content, mild cursing, goodbye to connor :( , ross is a loser but wbk, hospitals, carol gives birth in this one !!

series masterlist. main masterlist.

“And that’s why mustard is the best condiment to go on hot dogs,” concluded Chandler, swinging Monica’s fridge open to grab a carton of orange juice.

You tilted your head, about to reply with a counter-argument, when the bathroom door creaked and Rachel stepped out.

Only, she was naked from the torso and up.

Immediately, you threw your hands over your face, blurting out a string of apologies as both she and Chandler screamed in surprise. She grabbed a loosely knit throw blanket on the back of the sofa to cover her chest.

“What are you guys doing here—you don’t knock, you don’t call, or—! Ugh, this is ridiculous, do I have no privacy at all?”

“I’m sorry!” exclaimed Chandler. “But, uh, that blanket is, uhm… rather holey. I can still see your, uh, your nippular area—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Rachel groaned in frustration before crossing her arms and rushing off to her room.

“Can I look now?” you asked, peeping through the thin gaps between your fingers.

Chandler pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a long swig of orange juice straight from the carton. “It’s just me in the room—fully clothed, by the way.”

“Do you guys want anything else to eat?” queried Rachel, pen and paper in one hand, and the other propped up on her hip.

Chandler raised a hand. “Yeah, can I have—”

“Nope, sorry, we’re all out of those,” snapped the brunette. “Anybody else?”

Phoebe’s new boyfriend, a rather eccentric shrink named Roger, tilted his head. “Did I miss something here?”

“She’s just upset because we saw her boobies,” said Chandler.

Rearing back, Ross began tripping over his words, appearing troubled by the newfound information. “Wh-what? What were you doing seeing her boobies? And what do you mean we?”

Shrugging, Chandler began explaining, “Well, it was an accident! It’s not like I was across the street with a pair of binoculars and a box of donuts! Besides, Y/N was there, too.”

You tutted, lifting a finger, leaning against Connor on the couch. “I didn’t see anything. I covered my eyes—like any decent person would’ve done.”

“Thank you,” said Rachel, smiling at you genuinely, before rounding her glare back to Chandler. “Can we change the subject, please?”

Nodding emphatically, Phoebe gestured vaguely to Rachel’s torso. “Yeah, because, hello, these are not her boobies, these are her breasts.”

Connor’s chest rumbled with laughter and you had to hide your own amused smile behind a cup of coffee.

“Okay, Pheebs, I was hoping for more of a change, here.”

“I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed!” Chandler piped up. “They were very nice boobies.”

Lips parting, Rachel sat down beside you, fists clenched. “Nice? They were just nice? That’s it? A pair of mittens can be nice!”

“Don’t listen to him, Rach, I think you’re very beautiful,” you said, patting her knee consolingly.

Grumpily, Chandler uttered, “Okay, rock,” he gestured with one hand, “hard place,” he gestured with the other. “Me.” He stuck his head between his palms with an exaggerated scowl.

“Heh, you’re funny,” said Phoebe’s boyfriend. “I wouldn’t want to be there when the laughter stops.”

It took you a moment to fully register his words.

“Woah, back up there, Sparky, What do you mean by that?” Chandler said.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the shrink began to explain, “Well, it just seems as though you maybe have intimacy issues, you know—you use your humor as a way to keep people at a distance.” At Chandler’s mildly offended expression, he raised his hands defensively. “I mean, hey. I just met you! I don’t know you from Adam, you know what I mean?”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re an only child, right? Parents divorced before you hit puberty?”

Genuinely spooked, Chandler gritted out, “Uh huh. How did you know?”

Roger bit into his egg salad sandwich. “It’s textbook,” came his stout reply.

It was then that Joey came into Central Perk, his father in tow. He waved at the entire group. “You guys know my dad, right?”

“Hey, Mr. Tribbiani, long time no see,” you greeted with a warm smile, getting up from your warm spot beside Connor to give him a hug. There was a time a couple months ago where you had given him a ride back home because Joey had an important audition he couldn’t miss and you offered to take him, and the two of you hit it off fairly well during the car ride. “How long are you in the city for?”

“Bah, just a couple days. I got a job in midtown! I figured I’m better off staying with the kid than hauling my ass back and forth on a ferry. That’s a new face, eh?” He pointed at Connor, who also stood up to give him a firm handshake. “And who might you be, pipsqueak?”

“Connor Berne—I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, sir.”

Joseph Tribbiani’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Nice to meet you, pal. Break their heart and I’ll break your spine, you hear?” The older man burst out into laughter when all the color drained from Connor’s face, cuffing him on the shoulder. “I kid, I kid. No, I’m not. Oh, another new face! Who’s this, now?”

“That’s my friend, Roger,” Phoebe chimed.

“Ah, what happened to the puppet guy?”

Phoebe made a discontented, garbled noise at the question.

“Dad,” warned Joey, shaking his head.

The sofa sank beneath your weight as you sat back down, this time making space for Joey and his father on the other side, which meant that you were tightly sandwiched between the actor and your boyfriend.

“Oh, my apologies,” said Mr. Tribbiani. “So, Ross, how’s the wife?”

Your friend muttered incoherently under his breath and rested his head on Chandler’s shoulder.

Wincing, Joey’s father nervously laughed. “Zero for two, eh? Uh, Chandler, quick, say something funny!”

Stone-faced, Chandler firmly shook his head—he didn’t want to give Roger more ammunition to fire at him.

Joey tossed the pillows onto the couch, grinning when he saw his dad on the phone.

“I love you, but it’s gettin’ real late now—”

“Let me say hi!” he exclaimed, grabbing the phone from his dad. “Hey, ma! Listen, I made the appointment with Dr. Bozita, and I—wait. Excuse me?” Shocked, Joey pulled the phone away from his ear. “Dad, did you know this wasn’t ma?”

Joseph winced, sitting up straighter on the couch, before nodding.

Disgusted, Joey immediately hung up the phone, huffing out a long sigh. There wasn’t much that he could think to say—should he be angry? Should he yell? Should he call his ma and tell her what was going on?

Numb, Joey made his way to the kitchen and resumed chopping up mushrooms for the nice dinner he had planned—you know, before he found out that his dad was a cheating scumbag.

“Her name’s Ronni,” said his dad. “She’s a pet mortician.”

Joey frowned. “How long have you been…” He trailed off, shivering at the thought.

“Remember when you were a little kid, I used to take you down to the navy yard and show you the big ships?”

Blanching, Joey barked, “Since then?!”

“No! It’s only been six years. I just wanted to put a nice memory in your head so you’d know I wasn’t always such a terrible guy,” assured the older man. He walked up to Joey and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Have you ever been in love before, son?”

The memory of Ross telling him that he knew Joey was in love with Y/N flashed into mind. He swallowed uneasily, practically turning the mushrooms into a paste with how much he was dicing them.

“I don’t know,” replied Joey, uncharacteristically somber.

“Then you haven’t,” his dad said. “Joe, your dad’s in love big time—and the worst part of it is that it’s two different women.”

The chopped mushrooms crackled as he tossed them into the hot pan on the stove. Joey hung his head, eyeing his father. “Oh, man, please tell me one of them is ma!”

“Of course one of them’s ma, what’s the matter with you?” his dad barked.

Joey sighed, plating a hefty amount of the dish for himself. He didn’t really have the heart to eat anymore, but he was going to, anyway—he’d worked hard to make that food, and his grumbling stomach could definitely attest to that.

“Food’s on the stove,” he sullenly said to his dad, trudging to his room with his plate in hand. “G’night.”

“It’s like if you woke up one day and found out your dad was leading this double life! He’s, like, actually some spy working for the CIA!” complained Joey, seated beside you on Monica’s couch before smiling at the thought of it. “Hey, that’d actually be kinda cool. Ugh, but this blows!”

You snaked your arm around him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Joey, that must’ve been really hard to hear.”

“If it’s any consolation, I know how you feel,” added Connor, across from the two of you. “My dad left my mom for another woman when I was a child. I haven’t seen him in nearly a decade.”

Rachel gasped. “That’s terrible! You know, why can’t parents just be parents? Why do they have to become people? Why—Chandler, stop staring at my breasts!”

You snapped your gaze to said man, who unsurprisingly had his eyes trained to Rachel’s chest.

“What?” he asked, as if snapping out of a daze, clearly not paying attention to whatever was said for the past minute.

“Did you not get a good enough look last time?” hissed Rachel, crossing her arms with a scowl.

“Alright, alright,” Ross placatingly said before an argument could break out. “Since Chandler saw her boobies, I think it’s only fair if you show her your pee-pee.”

Cackling, you clapped your hands together. “That’s a great idea, Ross.”

“No, yeah, I don’t see that happening,” he protested.

Rachel seemed to enjoy the thought of that, as well, nodding. “Come on, he’s right, it’s only fair! Tit for tat, you know?”

“Well, I’m not showing you my tat—that has to be earned,” said Chandler, sticking his nose up in the air and harrumphing.

Before anybody could say anything else, the buzzer rang, and Monica got up to answer it.

“It’s Phoebe!” it said. “And Rog!”

Chandler scowled. “Oh, great. It’s Rog.”

“What’s the matter with Rog?” Joey questioned.

“Ah, it’s nothing, just a tiny, little thing—I hate him.” Chandler grinned sarcastically.

Shrugging, Ross added, “What, so, he was a little analytical! That’s what he does for a living, you know. It’s not that bad.”

“That’s where you’re wrong!” yelled Ross, pointing a finger at Phoebe’s boyfriend. “Why would I marry her if I thought on any level that she was a lesbian?”

You tried to smother your laugh into a cough, but failed miserably, earning yourself a glare from him. Not wanting to make it worse for yourself, you left the table, heading over to the couch to watch him hash it out with the shrink. Soon, Monica joined in on the arguing as well, under the impression that Ross thought she was a failure.

Not even half an hour later, Roger was talking to Rachel, and had somehow had her dissolving into tears and blubbering recounts of her childhood trauma of falling off of a cruise ship when she was a child.

When you attempted to comfort her, Roger turned his attention to you, much to your dismay.

“Why are you always doing that?” he asked bluntly.

You furrowed your brows. “Doing what?”

“You’re always rushing to make people feel better or fix the problem, even though they might just be overreacting or when there’s no problem to fix at all.”

Almost immediately, Rachel halted her sniffling. “I’m not overreacting!”

You cocked your head, frowning. “It’s called being a good friend,” you retorted.

“Really?” countered Roger. “Because I’m not always seeing it reciprocated. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying your friends don’t like you—I’m saying you’re not letting them reciprocate it. It just looks like you have issues with opening up and telling the people closest to you bad things that’s happened to you, so you overcompensate by trying to fix their problems for them. But, heh, what do I know?”

“I—”

“Oh, and you omit important details about your life from some of your friends because you don’t want to taint the perfect image they have of you, right? You don’t want to be a burden to them? I mean, it only makes sense that you have a perfect partner who lets you walk all over him—”

“Hey!” Joey interrupted, bristling. “Don’t you talk to Y/N like that. What’s the matter with you?”

As if he hadn’t just spewed out the most hurtful psychoanalysis you’ve ever heard, Roger stood up, nonchalantly checking his watch. “Oh, Phoebe, sweetie, we’re gonna be late for our movie!”

“Oh, we should get going, then!” the blonde chimed from the kitchen. “Bye, guys!”

Right before Roger slipped out the door, he pointed a finger at Monica. “Remember to go easy on those cookies, alright? They’re just food, not love.”

The door shut just as she chucked a handful of biscuits in his direction. The rest of the group groaned in relief at his departure.

“Are you okay?” asked Connor. “That was… harsh.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “Harsh, but true. Sometimes I don’t tell you guys things because I’m ashamed of it.”

“It’s okay to have secrets, honey,” Rachel reassured sweetly, eyes still red and puffy from her sob session a few minutes ago. “We don’t have to know every single detail of your life, even though we’d be happy to hear it.”

You blew out a shaky breath. What Roger had said really didn’t sit well with you. “Thanks, Rach. And you, for sticking up to him, Joey.”

The Italian saluted, before shooting you a genuine smile. “It was uncalled for! He’s a real jerk.”

“I hate that guy!” exclaimed Monica.

Chandler snorted from the corner of the room. “Welcome to the club.”

“Stop kicking,” Chandler admonished his roommate.

The two of them were lying down on the pull-out sofa bed they had, because Joey’s dad’s girlfriend, Ronni, had shown up and taken Chandler’s room for the night. Joey had forced his father to sleep in his own room—that way he could be sure there’d be no shenanigans going on while he was asleep.

Only, he wasn’t sleeping.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tryna get comfortable,” huffed Joey. The blanket was too short and his feet were poking out the other end. The sofa bed was lumpy and something was digging into his back at an awkward angle. “I can’t sleep with my underwear on!”

“Well, you’re gonna,” snapped Chandler warningly.

With a resigned sigh, Joey gave up trying to find a good position and sat up. “I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s a first,” his friend snorted.

Joey glared at him, before continuing, “I don’t know, this whole ordeal with my dad’s got me thinking about how I’m always going out with all these different people. I always figured that when the right one comes along, I’d be able to be a stand-up guy and go the distance, you know? Now I’m looking at my dad and I’m wondering if that’ll be me.”

Landing a soft punch on his shoulder, Chandler sat up as well. “Hey, you’re not him, Joey. You’re you. When they were all over you to go into your father’s pipe-fitting business, did you cave? No! You decided to go into the out-of-work actor business. And that wasn’t easy, but you did it! See, I’d like to think that when you’re married to the right person, you’d have the courage and the guts to say, ‘no thanks, I’m married!’ to whoever makes a pass at you.”

“You really think so?” Joey mumbled. “Hey, you wanna hear something funny that happened a while back?”

“Shoot,” said Chandler, intrigued.

Chuckling slightly, the actor said, “Ross thinks I’m in love with Y/N.”

“That’s…” Chandler was about to laugh as well, before his brows furrowed, and he jerked upwards, eyes widening. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”

Quick to backtrack, Joey began shaking his head vehemently. “No, no, not you, too! I’m not in love with Y/N! It makes no sense at all, that’s why I said it was funny! You know Ross, always talking about made up things, like aliens and the jurassic era—I mean what the hell is that?”

“No, it makes complete and total sense! That’s why you’ve been so weird around Connor! Why the two of you used to sleep over in each other’s beds all the time despite having your own places! It’s all so obvious!”

Joey began shushing him, slapping a hand over his mouth. “I’m not in love with Y/N. Besides, even if I was, they’re with Connor, remember? I wouldn’t want to get between them.” His hand fell away from Chandler’s face.

“Y/N loves you, Joey,” his roommate said, uncharacteristically serious. “In a romantic or a platonic sense, they love you—and I think that if you love them, too, you need to tell Y/N how you really feel.”

Joey raised his eyebrows. “Since when did you become all shrink-y?”

Chandler grumbled under his breath. “Roger’s had a bad influence on all of us, okay?” he snarked, before lying back down and turning around. “Good night, Joe.”

“Night,” he replied.

Joey didn’t get any sleep for the hours to come, plagued by the idea of watching you fall in love with Connor from the sidelines.

“And Rachel just tore the shower curtain open, and saw everything!” Joey retold the story, whilst sipping on a mug of coffee. A smile slipped across his face when you doubled over laughing, nose wrinkled with amusement.

“Gosh, that’s funny. Why don’t any of you lock the bathroom doors?”

Joey rolled his eyes, as if it were obvious. “Duh, in case of an emergency, how am I supposed to unlock the door with my wet, slippery hands? And I thought you were the smart one here.”

“Where’s Connor?” asked Chandler, side-eyeing Joey.

You waved your hands dismissively. “He’s out of the city for today—has a big work event. Offered for me to come with him, but I had an important class to teach this morning, and I couldn’t miss it, so I had to decline.”

It didn’t miss Chandler’s notice when Joey seemed to brighten at that.

“That’s a shame,” chimed Monica. “I really like having him around—you’ve got a great boyfriend, Y/N. He’s a keeper,” she said, genuinely.

Flushing, you smiled into a mug. “I really like him, too. Though… ugh, we had a disagreement right before he left. I wouldn’t call it a fight, because we didn’t really have time to let it escalate, but we definitely had differing opinions.”

“Oh, no, what happened?” Ross queried from beside you.

“Well, we just got to talking about the future and all and he mentioned that he never wanted to get married or have kids—ever. He seemed pretty firm about it, too. And… I don’t know, that just kind of threw me for a loop, you know? It’s not like I ever really thought about having kids or getting married—I’m definitely not ready for either at the moment, but I don’t want to completely take those options off the table,” you explained, twisting your hands in your lap.

The group fell into an uncertain silence.

“I’m really sorry, sweetie,” said Rachel, resting a hand on your shoulder in consolation. “Hopefully you guys can talk it out! If not, then… well, there’s always more fish in the sea.”

You looked uncertain, but nodded along anyway.

It was then that Phoebe marched into the cafe, jewelry noisily clacking against one another as she strode towards the group. “Hey, guys!” she exclaimed. “Roger’s having a dinner thing and he wanted me to invite you guys!”

Awkwardly, none of you responded. Chandler whistled under his breath, pretending not to hear her.

“What’s going on?” the blonde asked, confused.

“Nothing,” said Monica. “It’s just…”

“We hate him!” piped Rachel.

Wincing, you shook your head. “Sorry, Pheebs.”

“Okay, don’t you think that maybe he’s so perceptive that it freaked you guys out?”

“Mm, no,” Ross bluntly confirmed. “We hate him.”

The next night, pizza boxes were spread over Monica’s coffee table as the entire group chowed down on dinner together. You’d just finished your second slice, wiping the grease away from your fingers with a napkin before curling up beside Connor. Neither of you had had the chance to be alone yet and talk about the mini-argument you’d had before he left for work.

“So you talked to your dad?” Monica asked Joey, reaching for another slice from the pepperoni box.

“Yeah, he’s gonna keep cheating on my ma like she wanted, and my ma’s gonna pretend she doesn’t know, even though she does, and my little sister, Tina, can’t see her husband anymore because he got a restraining order! Which has nothing to do with anything except that I found out today,” Joey said around a mouthful of Hawaiian.

Sympathetic, you tilted your head. “You sure you’re okay, Jo?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just… you know, they’re parents. After a certain point, you gotta let go. Even if you know better, you gotta let them make their own mistakes!”

The rest of the group chuckled at his words.

“And just think, in a couple of years we get to turn into them!” exclaimed Rachel.

Snorting, Chandler remarked, “If I turn into my parents, I’ll either be an alcoholic blonde chasing after twenty-year-old boys, or… I’ll end up like my mom.”

Ross choked on his pizza slice as he laughed.

Phoebe walked into Monica’s apartment then, shedding her large coat and taking a seat next to Chandler.

“Hey, Pheebs, how’s it going?” greeted Rachel.

“Oh, okay—except I broke up with Roger.”

You suppressed the urge to cheer, but cooed in disappointment with the rest of the group.

Rachel placed her plate full of uneaten pizza crusts on the table. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I mean… he’s a good person, and he can be really sweet. And in some ways, I think he’s so right for me. It’s just… I hate that guy!”

The rest of you nodded your agreement, before offering Phoebe some break-up pizza.

Once the pizza was gone, you, Monica, Phoebe and Connor moved to the kitchen table to talk some more. Joey and Chandler and Ross had retired to their own apartments, while a sleepy Rachel claimed that she needed to take a shower, but went to her room to pass out anyway. Phoebe was telling the three of you a story about the time she got stuck in the trunk of a car, before you gently excused yourself to the bathroom, meaningfully glancing at Connor.

He took the cue and got up as well, smiling charmingly at the two women. They seemed to understand and shooed him off.

“Hey, sweetie,” he said, catching up to you in the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. “Wow, this bathroom is really organized,” he commented, admiring the neatly laminated labels on the cabinets and drawers.

“Yeah, that’s Monica for you,” you hummed, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. “Sorry for pulling you away—I just wanted to talk to you about what we discussed before you left.”

Connor took a seat beside you. “No, yeah, uhm… I just wanted to apologize for not telling you about me not wanting to have kids and get married before. I guess that’s the catch with me, you know? I just—I really like you and all my previous partners have broken up with me because of this very reason and… you were different, you know? I should’ve told you, and I’m really sorry. If you want to break up now, I completely understand.”

A part of your heart splintered at his words, and you lifted your face to cup his hands gently. “Oh, Connor, you not wanting to get married or have kids isn’t a catch, it’s very valid to feel that way. Sure, you should’ve told me, but it’s not like we’ve been dating for that long, anyway. I’m not mad at you.”

He winced. “But…?”

“But…” You sighed, retracting your hands from him so you could bury your face in them. “Argh, this is so much harder than I thought it’d be. I really like you, Connor. It’s hard letting go.” Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and your nose stung as you staved them away.

Arms winding around your waist, he brought you into a warm embrace. You wiped away a stray tear, locking eyes with his big, brown ones. Then he kissed you, hard and desperate, pouring every bit of unvocalized emotions into the exchange. His fingers dug into your side and you whimpered against him, just about melting into his hold.

Momentarily pulling away, you whispered over him. “I think it’s best if we stop seeing each other—maybe if one day I find myself okay with never marrying or having kids, then I’ll come find you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he muttered, before slanting his lips against yours once more. You knew you shouldn’t be kissing him—it would only make the inevitable goodbye much worse. But you just couldn’t stop. One of his hands began snaking beneath your shirt, his cold fingers skimming over your stomach and ribs made you gasp involuntarily. With a muffled noise grumbling in the back of his throat, he hoisted you up, pushing you against the wall, slotting one of his thighs between yours and kissed you rough—rougher than he’d ever kissed before. With one hand fisted into the collar of his shirt to tug him all the closer, the other slithered to the back of his neck, where you pulled at his dark, slightly curled hair. He nipped your bottom lip in response, nose bumping into yours.

It was hot and heavy and definitely the last thing either of you needed right now for a breakup.

All of a sudden, the door slammed open, and the two of you whipped your heads to the entrance, wide-eyed and puffy-lipped.

Joey stood at the doorway, horrified. His eyes roamed over the two of you intertwined in a rather compromising position. “Oh—uh—sorry, I was looking for Rachel’s boobies. I was getting back at her, since she saw my… I’m gonna go now.”

He scurried away without closing the door, and you reluctantly let go of Connor, straightening your clothes.

“We should, uhm…”

“Yeah.” He nodded, exiting the bathroom, and rushing to the door with you hot in his heels. You could feel both Phoebe and Monica’s stares burn into you as the two of you left her apartment and into the hallway for some privacy. Joey was nowhere to be seen.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, dimly reflecting the flickering light by the stairs, like snow on a wintry tree branch. Connor cradled your face in his palms. It hurt you even more to see a film of unshed tears warble in his own glassy eyes.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” he whispered. “I know we’re breaking up, but if you ever need anything… I’ll always be there for you.”

“Okay,” you croaked.

He dipped down to kiss you one last time, but you turned your head away just in time, and his lips landed on your cheek. You didn’t want to let him kiss you properly again, afraid that you’d just cave and immediately take him back.

“Bye, Connor,” you mumbled, pressing a swift kiss right beside his nose.

And with that, the two of you let go of each other. He walked backwards slowly, before turning and jogging down the stairs, wiping his damp cheek with the sleeve of his shirt.

You leaned against the wall, biting into your bottom lip as it quivered uncontrollably, wrapping your arms around yourself. After about three seconds, you began crying, silent sobs wracking your frame.

The door opposite you creaked open, and you were greeted with a concerned Joey, who immediately wrapped his arms around you, stroking the back of your head soothingly.

No words were exchanged—none needed to be.

He led you into his apartment, passing by Chandler, who had put down the newspaper he was skimming over to unabashedly stare at the two of you, heading into his room.

This time, Joey didn’t ask if you wanted him to sleep on the couch, knowing your answer would be to stay.

You slipped beneath the covers as you cried, furiously wiping away at the tears, only for more to fall in their stead. The actor lied down beside you, and you immediately turned to face him, burying your sodden face into his shoulder. Joey held you close, wishing he could drown himself in your lovely blueberry-scented shampoo, and stroked your head until the thundering sobs subsided into easy, deep breaths of sleep.

It took you around a week of holing up in your apartment until you started going out to see your friends again. They were all worried sick about you, constantly calling and dropping by to give you homemade baked goods, or offering to take you out to the movies or to the arcade or something that’d cheer you up. Phoebe had given you about a dozen dreamcatchers that she had crafted herself, Rachel came by to watch cheesy romance movies with you while cuddling up on the couch, and Monica had given you tupperwares full to the brim with chocolate chip cookies. Chandler and Joey dragged you along to a hockey match, and Ross took you to the science museum. Really, you were eternally grateful for every single one of them.

Though the thought of Connor still hurt, you were feeling much better, and ready to slowly start moving on.

It did, however, take you by surprise to learn that Joey and Chandler had bumped into Ursula, Phoebe’s estranged twin sister, and Joey had taken a rather keen interest in her and asked her out on a date. Chandler had asked him if he was overcompensating and trying to prove that he wasn’t in love with Y/N by getting together with Ursula, but Joey brushed his friend off with a scoff and stuffed his face with food so he wouldn’t have to present him with an answer.

Phoebe clearly wasn’t happy with the predicament either.

“Are you seeing her again tonight?” asked Rachel, helping Monica unwind a ball of lavender yarn as she worked on knitting together a scarf.

“Yup,” said Joey. “Taking her to the Ice Capades.”

Chandler crossed his arms. “Wow, this is serious, huh? I’ve never known you to pay money for any kind of capade.”

Almost defensive, Joey shrugged. “I don’t know, I like her. She’s different, you know? There’s, uh, something about her…”

Phoebe bristled. “That you like—we get it, you like her! Great.”

“Pheebs, I asked you, and you said it was okay!” retorted Joey.

“Maybe now it’s not okay!” she replied.

Joey frowned. “Well, maybe now I’m not okay with it not being okay.”

“Okay!” huffed Phoebe. “Can I just ask you one question, though? Have you two… you know… like—you know?”

Cocking his head, Joey responded, “Well, not that it’s any of your business, but no, we haven’t.”

“Good,” retorted the blonde. “Don’t!”

“Well, maybe I will!”

“Okay!”

The two attempted to storm out of Monica’s apartment at the same time, stopped to glare at each other by the doorway while gesturing the other to go out first, before squeezing through simultaneously and going their different ways.

You exhaled lowly, not realizing that you’d been holding your breath the entire time they were fighting. “Remind me to never date one of your siblings,” you remarked, which earned you a murmur of agreement from the rest of the group.

It turned out Phoebe had left her bag at the apartment, so she came stomping back in about an hour later. She sat beside you on the couch, and you reached up to pull a leaf out of her hair.

“You okay?” you asked her.

“Yeah, I just… it’s this stupid Ursula thing. I’m sorry, I know I’m like complaining about something stupid when you just went through an awful breakup, but it’s just driving me up the wall!”

“My breakup wasn’t that awful,” you replied, laughing nervously.

Phoebe arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t leave your apartment at all for the first three days. All you ate were stale Ritz crackers.”

Waving her away, Rachel queried, “Can I just ask, though, Pheebs—so, Joey’s going out with your sister. Is it really so terrible?”

“Well, yeah,” Phoebe bluntly answered. “I’m not saying she’s evil or anything, she’s just, you know, she’s always breaking my stuff! When I was eight, I wouldn’t let her have my Judy Jetson Thermos, so she threw it under the bus. And then there was Randy Brown, who was like—have you guys ever had a boyfriend who was like your best friend?”

All of you shook your heads.

“That’s what he was for me. And obviously, she kinda stole him away and broke his heart. And then he wouldn’t even talk to me anymore because he said he didn’t want to be around anything that looked like either of us. I mean, I know Joey’s not my boyfriend or my thermos, or anything, but…”

“Oh, honey, you’re not gonna lose him,” you assured. “Joey may be an idiot but he’s not that much of an idiot.”

“You gotta talk to Joey,” chimed Monica.

“Yeah, right,” sighed the blonde. “You guys all saw how he reacted when I tried.”

Ross shook his head. “Come on, I mean he doesn’t know this stuff. If he knew how you felt—”

“He’s falling in love with her!” Phoebe exclaimed.

You stiffened. Joey was falling in love with Ursula?

Suddenly, it felt as if there was a rope tied around your throat, and it was getting tighter by the second, slowly constricting you.

“Oh, please, they’ve been going out for a week! They haven’t even slept together yet, I mean, it can’t be that serious,” Rachel reasoned.

“Fine, alright,” Phoebe relented. You squeezed her hand reassuringly before she got up, and headed to the door, knocking on Joey’s apartment across the hall. The group craned their necks to watch from inside, not bothering to be at all secretive about it.

Your stomach dropped to the floor when it swung open to reveal Ursula behind the door—wearing nothing but Joey’s shirt.

“Suddenly, I’m downfield, and I realize that I’m the one who’s supposed to catch him! Only, I know there’s no way I’m gonna get there in time, so I’m running and running and that’s when I woke up. See, I am so not ready to be a father,” said Ross, paling at the mere thought of having a kid.

Chandler shook his head. “Hey, you’re gonna be fine. You’re one of the most caring, responsible men in North America!”

“Which doesn’t say much,” you whistled, flipping the page of the book you were reading. When you looked up to see the two glaring at you, you were quick to reiterate, “You’re gonna be a great dad, Ross.”

Joey nodded. “Yeah, Ross! You and the baby just… need better blocking,” he concluded. “Oh, have either of you ever been to this restaurant, the Rainbow Room? Is it expensive?”

“Only if you order stuff,” quipped Chandler, sardonic as ever. “Why?”

“I’m taking Ursula there—it’s her birthday today,” the Italian exclaimed, grinning widely.

You placed a napkin into your book as a makeshift placeholder, before setting it down on the coffee table. “Woah, what about Phoebe’s birthday? We’re throwing her a surprise party, remember?”

Joey blinked. “Well, when’s that?”

The three of you regarded him with sharp glares.

“Tonight,” said Ross.

Joey dragged a palm over his face. “Oh, man. What are the odds of that happening?”

“What are you gonna do?” Chandler queried, clearly not happy with the entire situation, either.

“I mean, what can I do? I don’t want to screw it up with Ursula!” Joey replied defensively.

“Well, what about Phoebe? You can’t just blow her off on her own birthday,” you argued, crossing your arms. “Really, Joey, I don’t understand why you’re acting so weirdly with Ursula—you guys have barely known each other for two weeks! You’re never this way with all the other women you’ve dated before.”

Both Chandler and Ross looked at each other knowingly.

Brows furrowing, he snapped, “Well, maybe I just really like her. Is that so bad?”

“No,” you sighed, deflating. “I just don’t want you hurting your friendship with Phoebe over something that may not even last.”

“Well, if she’s my friend, hopefully she’ll understand,” Joey stiffly replied. “Wouldn’t you?”

Chandler rolled his eyes. “If you tried something like that on my birthday, then you’d be staring at the business end of a hissy fit.”

Phoebe’s party was ready—all you needed now was the birthday girl. You hid behind the couches, ready to spring up and surprise her as Rachel and Monica opened the door.

They screamed, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” right into a shocked Ross’ face, which made the custom cake he was picking up from the bakery fall straight onto the floor.

You all stared at the cake on the ground with disdain.

“You scared the crap out of me,” huffed Ross as he bent down to pick up the box. “Thanks a lot, guys, I got a lemon shmush.”

A faint grin befell your face. “Phoebe loves lemons—maybe she won’t notice its shape because it tastes so good.”

“Come on, she’ll be here any minute,” said Monica, ushering everybody to get back into position. Ross placed the cake box on the coffee table, opening it up to take a look at the damage.

“Happy Birthday, Peehee,” read Chandler, peering over your shoulder.

“Close enough,” you surmised.

Monica pointed to the decoration. “Why don’t we just make a B out of one of those roses?”

“Yeah, let me just break out my special cake tools,” Ross sarcastically bit back, jiggling the box in an attempt to make the lemony smush look more like a cake than smush.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Phoebe asked, which made all of you flinch at her unexpected appearance.

“SURPRISE!” you all yelled in an uncoordinated fashion.

The blonde seemed genuinely shocked, and she began hopping up and down, grinning widely. “Oh, thank you guys! This is so great! Oh, my god, thank you!” She gave Chandler a side-hug with one arm, and you with her other. “This was not at all scary! Oh, wow, look at everyone—hi, Betty! I can’t believe you found Betty! Oh, gosh, this is so great! Everybody I love in the same room…”

Your stomach curdled at her words, dreading when she’d ask—

“Where’s Joey?”

The smiles melted off all your faces and you lapsed into an awkward silence. Chandler was the one to break it, exclaiming, “Hey, look, it’s Betty!”

Phoebe smiled again, but this time it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Later that night, when all the party guests had gone, and all that was left were the close members of your friend group, you all gathered on the couches, watching Phoebe open the last of your gifts. She had gotten a lovely brown watch from Ross, a book on origami from Chandler, a thrifted pair of overalls from Rachel, a sleek hair straightener from Monica, and a set of new paint brushes and oil colors from you.

As she was thanking you profusely with a bright smile, the door opened and Joey trudged in, dragging his feet along behind him.

“Trouble in paradise?” Phoebe snarked, rolling her eyes. Despite this, she gingerly wrapped her arms around him when he approached her and gave the blonde a quick, brief hug.

He sank into the couch beside you, crossing his arms. “Happy birthday, Pheebs. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party—your sister stood me up tonight.”

“Oh, no,” she said, not at all surprised. “Don’t you just hate it when people aren’t there for you?”

“Did you try calling her?” Ross asked from his other side, tapping a pen onto his knee.

“Nonstop!” huffed Joey. “When I tried the restaurant, they said she was too busy to talk! I can’t believe she’s blowing me off. I guess I should’ve listened to you, Y/N—this never was going to last, anyway.”

Sympathetic, you shuffled closer to him, rounding your arms over his wide shoulders and pulling him into an embrace, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “I’m sorry she didn’t show, Jo. She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

Phoebe had told you about her little plan before she went into the cafe—she was going to pretend to be Ursula and properly break up with Joey so he wouldn’t be left hanging. She’d already talked to her sister and the identical twin was clear on having no intentions to talk to him ever again, so Phoebe decided to take matters into her own hands so as to not utterly devastate her friend. Though you were fairly doubtful that Joey would be able to tell apart his ex-girlfriend and her sister, you wouldn’t really put it past him.

You spied on the two talking it out from the couch on Central Perk, sipping on a large mug of hot chocolate.

“Yeah, so it’s not gonna work,” Phoebe, pretending to be Ursula, tried to calmly explain as she side-stepped Joey’s hands reaching out for her.

“Why?” asked the Italian. “Is it because I’m friends with Phoebe?”

“If it was, would you stop hanging out with her?” the blonde rebutted.

Without hesitating, Joey shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “No, I couldn’t do that. She’s one of my closest friends.”

Phoebe cleared her throat. “Then, yeah, it’s because of Phoebe! So, you know, it’s either her or me.”

Surprise filled your expression when Joey bowed his head. “Then… then I’m sorry,” he said.

Phoebe’s facade faltered for a moment. “You know… you’re gonna be really, really hard to get over.”

“I know,” he said, nodding solemnly. “I don’t know if it’s just us breaking up, or what, but—you’ve never looked more beautiful.”

Something twisted in your stomach when he leaned in to kiss her goodbye one last time. Phoebe’s eyes widened and she glanced at you, hunkering down on the couch, before shutting them tightly.

When Joey pulled away, he tilted his head, holding Phoebe away at an arm’s length.

“Phoebe?” he asked.

She pried one of her eyes open. “Yeah?” she winced. Sheepishly, she grinned apologetically, before beginning to explain everything to him.

Once she was done, Joey nodded in understanding, roping her into a hug.

The two walked to the couches, and Joey did a double take upon seeing you there. “Oh, Y/N! Were you, uh… were you here this entire time?”

“Yup,” you chimed, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Did you see—”

“You sticking your tongue down Phoebe’s throat? Yup,” you responded in a jesting manner, punching him in the bicep. “A sibling a day keeps the doctor away, right?”

He wrinkled his nose, prodding a tickling finger into your side, which made you squawk unattractively, squirming away. “Oh, shut up.”

The group filed into your spacious office, marveling at the rows of organized books on the shelves, the plethora of calculations on the whiteboards, and the miniature models of your work propped up on another shelf.

“You know, up until today, I never really realized that you actually worked,” said Phoebe, poking a bobblehead Einstein on your desk. “I just thought people gave you money because they liked you.”

“I don’t know if that’s an insult or a compliment, but thanks, Pheebs,” you chuckled, sinking into your seat and watching the rest of your friends mill about the office. “You guys don’t have to stay for long, it’s just bring your kid to work day but—seeing as I’m the only physicist who’s not an old white man with a wife who hates me and two robot children, I decided to bring you guys instead!”

Joey stood in front of one of the whiteboards, his hands on his hips. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, those are just some calculations for the concept of quantum gravity—see, if we wanted to do an experiment with a particle accelerator of that caliber in real life, it’d have to be larger than our entire galaxy, which is why we can’t test anything out and have to rely on pure theory. Gravity becomes a really tricky thing in a relativistic-quantum sense, which is why we have famous theories like the String Theory and the Loop Theory,” you explained, promptly shutting your mouth when you realized you were rambling.

Joey stared at you, dazed, a small smile forming over his lips. “I didn’t understand a single word you just said, but you’re hot when you talk all smart.”

Scoffing, you cuffed his shoulder fondly, before making your way to Ross.

“You know, I really respect you for being such a renowned person in science,” he said. “Folks like us have to stick together, right?”

Rachel laughed. “You guys are such nerds!” This earned sharp glares from the two of you, and the brunette was quick to add on, “Which is a good thing! It’s very, uhm, very cute.”

“Cute? Just cute?” Ross bristled. He began berating Rachel for reducing his work to just cute, and you rolled your eyes at both of their behavior.

“Gosh, guys, it’s not that serious. Don’t make me send you home,” you warned, wagging your finger at the two as if they were children. Ironic, because it was bring your kids to work day.

Monica propped her hands on her hips, looking at the sorted array of books on your shelf. “Looking at all these gives me a headache. I don’t know how you don’t drive yourself crazy in here,” she said.

“I love working here.” You shrugged, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I mean, I know I do very different things than all of you, but it’s what I love doing.”

Joey, sensing that you were a little downtrodden, wrapped his arms around you from behind. “Well, I might not understand anything you do, but I’m very proud of you,” he stated, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You playfully pretended to gag and wiped the kiss from your cheek, before pulling away from him.

“Alright, guys, since none of you are actually my children, I should probably kick you out now. Wouldn’t want the other guys in my department to think I have six fully grown kids at my age!”

“Tell him!” urged Monica and Phoebe, which prompted Rachel to roll her eyes in exasperation. “Look at you, you won’t even look at him!”

“Tell me what?” asked Chandler, setting down the magazine. “Come on, Rach. I could use another reason why women won’t look at me.”

Huffing, Rachel hooked her hands on her apron. “Alright, alright! Last night, I had a dream that you and I… we were—”

“Doing it on the coffee table!” Phoebe blurted out, smiling brightly.

“Wow!” Chandler exclaimed, clearly impressed by his dream-self.

Joey nudged his friend’s arm with his elbow. “Hey, excellent dream score, buddy!”

“Was I any good?” the mousy-haired man asked.

Rachel chuckled, cheeks burning a faint shade of crimson. “Well, I’d say you were pretty damned good.”

“Interesting, because in my dreams, I’m surprisingly inadequate,” he quipped.

“You know what’s funny,” you commented, nonchalantly flipping through your book. “I had a, uhm, a dream with Rachel in it last night.”

The rest of the group looked at you, interests piqued.

Joey grinned teasingly, prodding your side, “Ooh, Y/N had a sex dream, Y/N had a sex dream!”

“Oh, yeah? What was I doing?” the brunette asked.

“We were, uhm,” you scratched the back of your neck and cleared your throat, rather embarrassed, “doing it on the kitchen counter.”

The group burst out into a frenzy of exclamations and questions.

“Oh, my God!” Rachel clapped her hands together, clearly excited. “Was I good, was I good?”

Heat crawled up your skin and seeped into your cheeks. “Well, I can’t really say—I was the one going down on you.”

Rachel made a surprised choking noise in response, about to ask if anything else happened in your dream, when all of a sudden, Ross stood up, swinging his arms back and forth. “I love it when we share!” he exclaimed shrilly, before heading over to the cafe’s counter.

Rolling your eyes, you stood up to follow him, Chandler hot on your heels.

“I can’t believe you two had dream-sex with her!” Ross spat out.

Chandler did a double-take. “I’m sorry, it was a one time thing, and I was very drunk—and it was someone else’s subconscious.”

The taller man crossed his arms like a petulant child. “Okay, fine, but Y/N actually dreamt it themself!”

“Okay, Ross, jealousy is a really ugly color on you,” you said, arching a brow. “It was just a harmless dream, can you relax? Besides, I’ve had weird sex dreams with practically all of you!”

“What?” Chandler asked, butting his head between you and Ross. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this? Have you had any dreams about me?”

Laughing, you patted his shoulder, before making your way back to the couches.

“Come on, you told me about the last dream!” Chandler pestered Rachel after she had fessed up to having another wet dream about him.

Crossing her arms, Rachel hotly replied, “No, forget it!”

“Why’d you tell him you had another dream if you didn’t want him to ask about it?” you chimed from across the pair, looking away from your book, an amused glint to your eye. “Seems to me that, deep down, you want Chandler to know.”

The brunette glared at you whilst Chandler nodded emphatically. “Yeah—was I doing something particularly saucy?”

Huffing, Rachel shut the fashion magazine issue she was reading, placing it on Monica’s coffee table. “Alright, fine. But, first, lemme preface—you weren’t the only one there.”

Ross suddenly lifted his head, interested.

“Joey was there, too.”

The Italian grinned widely, rubbing his hands together. “Ooh, lemme hear it!”

Chuckling nervously, Ross interjected, “Was there, uh… anybody else there?”

You snorted at his obvious jealousy, hiding your smile behind your mouth when Rachel innocently shook her head. Then, she jumped slightly from the couch. “Oh! Wait, no, Y/N appeared for a bit, I think.”

With a teasing grin, you arched your eyebrow at her. “Oh, really? Four people in a sex dream—man, that’s wild.”

“You sure there weren’t five people there?” persisted Ross. “Because, you know… four and five can be easily mixed up—was there nobody like, I don’t know, handing out mints or anything?”

“So what was it like?” Joey leaned forward, grinning. “Was it like you and Chandler, and then you and me, and then you and Y/N, or was it like all four of us at the same time?”

A mischievous smile crossed Rachel’s face. “You know what? There were times… when Y/N and I weren’t even there.”

The two men laughed at her statement, before slowly turning to each other in horrified realization.

“Gross!” exclaimed Joey, pulling a face. “Chandler’s like my messed up older brother. A mentally unsound uncle, even!”

“I’m not old enough to be your uncle!” protested Chandler.

“Didn’t you kiss him on New Years?” you put forth, grinning at him.

He scowled, huffing, “That’s beside the point.”

“Okay, okay, let me spell it out for you,” interjected Rachel. “Really, most of it was just Chandler and I again, and then Joey showed up, and then Y/N showed up, and then Joey and Chandler went at it, then it was me and Chandler again—”

“Alright, we get it!” squeaked Ross, standing up and marching away from the couches and to the kitchen to sulk.

Rolling your eyes, you pressed on, “And then?”

“Well… that’s kind of it. Chandler and I took most of the runtime—though, I think you and Joey left the dream together at some point.”

Phoebe cooed, “Ooh, they were off to have their own personal dream-sex!”

Joey’s cheeks turned red and he waved their teasing comments away, before slapping his palms on his thighs and getting up. “Well, if any of you want to recreate whatever you saw in your sex dreams… I’m all ears.”

“Ditto, but I do have to say I’m quite averse to some things,” you added, getting up as well and grabbing your coat. It was getting pretty late, and you were looking forward to going home and crashing.

“I don’t know what averse means.”

You smiled at him. “Things I don’t like.”

“Oh, yeah, and what would those be?” asked Joey, offering his arm to you as the two of you walked out together.

“Watersports would definitely be one of them,” you said, wrinkling your nose at the thought.

Evidently confused, Joey’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head. “What, like surfing and stuff? I don’t know how you’d have sex while surfing, but—”

“Oh, god, Joey, not those kinds of watersports!” You burst out laughing, shoving him in the shoulder. The two of you stopped by his door. “Well, I’d love to continue sex-ed with you, but I should get home now.”

Flirtatiously, Joey grabbed onto your hips, biting into his lip in an overly-lustful way. “You know, there’s gotta be a physical component to sex-ed, too. I think a demonstration is in order.”

It’d been a long time since Joey was flirtatious with you—neither of you had really been single or emotionally available up until now, since you’d so recently broken up with Connor and he’d finally gotten over Ursula. It was nice to have your old friend back just the way things used to be before your relationship had gotten so complicated with other people in the way.

“You’re gross,” you chuckled, leaning forward to quickly press a kiss to his cheek, before pulling away. “Bye, Joey.”

“G’night,” he said, smiling brightly. “Get home safe, okay?”

His hands slipped away from your hips, and a part of you was surprised to find that you wished he’d pull you back.

You’d already showered, changed, and snuggled beneath your warm covers and on the very brink of slumber when your phone rang. When you answered with a grumbly tone, you were surprised to hear a panicked Ross on the line, yelling that the group was taking too long to get ready to go to the hospital and you needed to meet them there as quickly as you could because Carol was due to give birth any second now. Shocked, you shot out of bed, haphazardly yanking your pajamas off and tugging on your day clothes once again.

“I’ll be right there!” you answered, before clamping the phone down and rushing to grab your keys and a bag.

Fifteen minutes later, you were at the hospital, greeted by Ross running around like a headless chicken, and the rest of the group anxiously sitting in the waiting room.

“Hey,” you greeted, giving the taller man a hug.

“She’s not here yet!” he screeched, face red as a tomato and slickened with nervous sweats. “She’s having my baby, and she’s not here!”

Placatingly, you placed your hands on his shoulders, but pulled them away with mild disgust to find that he had soaked through his button-up shirt. Absent-mindedly, you wiped your palms on your jeans. “Ross, I’m sure she’s fine. Has her water broken?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” He was quaking, voice trembling with every word. “But when I spoke to her, she said she’d already passed the mucus plug!”

Joey made a noise of disgust from the seats, gagging. “Damn it, Ross, do we really have to know about that?”

Glaring at him, Ross ran out of the hall to call his ex-wife once more, blubbering incoherently under his breath.

“Look what you did, you made him all weepy!” you hissed, moving to sit next to him.

“Joey, what are you gonna do when you have a baby if you get grossed out by things like that?” scolded Monica.

Shrugging, the Italian responded, “I’ll be in the waiting room, handing out cigars.”

“Yes, Joey’s made arrangements to have his baby in a movie from the fifties,” Chandler sarcastically remarked, playing with the strings of his large hoodie.

Sprinting back into the room, Ross buried his face into his hands, frustrated. “I don’t believe this! I mean, she could be giving birth in the cab!”

“Oh, relax,” Rachel said, lighthearted in an attempt to calm him down. “It’s probably only two dollars for the first contraction and then an additional fifty cents for each one following that!”

The group stared at her silently.

“What, it’s okay when Chandler does it?” she gruffed, crossing her arms.

“You have to pick your moments,” he explained, wincing at Ross’ broken expression.

Phoebe ran in at that moment, asking if she’d missed the birth.

“She’s not even here yet!” Ross cried out, looking ready to yank his hair out of its roots.

As if on cue, Carol was wheeled in, sat in a wheelchair.

“Where the hell have you been?” barked Ross, rushing to greet her.

“We stopped at the gift shop! I was looking at stuffed animals, and Susan wanted one,” she explained calmly, as if she wasn’t in literal labor.

“Stuffed animals! God, you’re having a baby, there’s no time for that!” he fretted, disappearing into their designated hospital room with the two women.

Four hours later, you were still lounging in the waiting room, falling in and out of sleep. You muffled a yawn behind your palm, blearily blinking your eyes open to see Monica longingly stare after a couple walking past, holding a little baby carrier.

“I want a baby,” she huffed, flipping through the same magazine she’d been reading for about an hour now. Chandler, who had his head on her shoulder, groaned at the sudden jolting movement.

“Not tonight, honey, I’ve got an early day tomorrow,” he joked, already drifting back into sleep.

“Ugh, get up, let’s go get some coffee,” Monica admonished, tossing the magazine back onto the table.

Rolling his eyes, Chandler lethargically got to his feet, dragging himself behind her. “Okay, sure, because we never do that!”

From beside you, Joey was yelling at the television hanging in the corner of the room, eyes glued to the basketball game on the screen. Your head fell forward as you fruitlessly staved away sleep, shocked awake by the sound of Chandler and Monica trudging back in, fresh coffees in hand.

“I just saw a couple with twins,” she told you, grumbling. She handed you a steaming cup of joe and you murmured your thanks. “It’s not fair! I don’t even have one—how come they get two?”

“You’ll get one,” you assured her, righting yourself up by leaning on Joey so you could sip on your coffee.

“When?” she asked, crestfallen.

Too tired to provide her with an articulate response, you just pursed your lips and shook your head.

“Tell you what, when we’re forty, if neither of us are married, what do you say you and I get together and have one?” proposed Chandler.

Oh, how sweet, you thought.

“Why won’t I be married when I’m forty?” questioned Monica, crossing her arms.

Panicked, Chandler was quick to backtrack, “Oh, no, no, I just mean, like, hypothetically!”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Okay, hypothetically, why won’t I be married when I’m forty? Is there something fundamentally unmarriable about me?”

This left Chandler blundering for words, and he spat out a lousy excuse to check in on Ross, before scurrying out of the waiting room.

“He said if, Monica,” you snorted, drinking down the rest of the coffee to keep you awake. “He was just trying to be nice—which is something you know very well he does scarcely often.”

The woman pursed her lips to the side, before nodding, and getting up to go after him.

Joey turned to look at you, tilting his head, and jokingly said, “Hey, what do you say we get together if we’re single when we’re forty—”

“Shut up and watch the game, Joe,” you scoffed, pushing his face away with a grin. His day-old stubble scratched against your palm. Clearing your throat, you retracted your hand and swung up onto your feet, hastily saying, “I gotta go to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be right back.”

When you came back to the waiting room, having dropped by the hospital’s cafeteria for a stale croissant because your stomach was rumbling loudly, you were met with a crying Monica, a stressed Chandler, and Phoebe playing her guitar.

“Where’s Joey and Rachel?” you asked, before adding on, “And what did you do to make Monica cry this time, Chandler?”

Offended, Chandler shook his head vehemently. “It wasn’t me, I swear! She just saw another couple with a baby and burst into tears! Then Phoebe started singing to try and cheer her up, but then she just started crying harder! Also, I have no idea where Joey is, and Rachel went off to chase some hot doctor guy.”

Sighing, you grabbed hold of Monica. The watery film of tears over her eyes warbled as she fixed her gaze on you. “Alright, Mon, I promise you’re going to be just fine. One day you’ll meet someone who wants to have a baby with you, and you’ll have the baby! You’re only twenty-six, you have so much of your life ahead of you! Now quit crying, there’s enough of that here with all the newborn babies around.”

She ceased her cries into minute sniffling, and you wrapped your arms around her comfortingly.

The rest of you lounged for another hour, Rachel appearing again, draped over Carol’s doctor’s arm. He told the rest of you it was probably going to be a couple more hours, and you buried your face into your hands.

It was then that Joey walked out of one of the hospital rooms, sweaty and mildly traumatized.

“Joey? Where the hell have you been?” you asked, scooching over on the couch so he’d have room beside you. He sank down with a groan, draping an arm over you.

“I just had a baby,” he said. Eyes widening, he looked to you and clarified, “Obviously not mine—I just held her hand as she gave birth. It was gross—and really beautiful.”

The rest of you stared at him, shocked.

“Mazel tov!” exclaimed Chandler.

“Alright, there’s too many people in this room, and there’s about to be one more,” the nurse barked. You glanced at Ross, who had his damp eyes trained on his ex-wife. “Anybody who’s not an ex-husband or a lesbian life partner, out you go!”

You patted Ross’ shoulder and murmured your old friend good luck, before getting ushered out by the nurse.

About an hour later, Monica knocked on the door again, peeking her head in. “Can we come in?” she quietly asked, and Carol nodded with a smile.

The group filed in slowly, gently cooing upon seeing the little bundle in her arms. Carol passed the baby to Ross. He looked to the rest of you with watery eyes, before saying, “Guys, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is Ben.”

As if on cue, the little thing let out a small cry, wiggling around in his blanket.

“Oh, hi Ben,” all of you replied, faces twisted with adoration.

“Susan, he looks just like you!” chimed Phoebe, which earned her a small laugh.

Rachel reached out to touch the baby’s feet through the blanket. “God, I can’t believe one of us actually has one of these,” she breathily said, mesmerized.

“I know,” agreed Chandler. “I still am one of these.”

The group watched with bated breath as Ross passed the baby to his sister. “Hi, Ben,” she whispered, sniffling. “I’m your Aunt Monica. Yes, I am.”

You peered over her shoulder, smiling. The corner of your eyes began to sting, much to your own dismay. You just couldn’t believe your old friend Ross had a son now.

As the first tear fell, you furiously wiped it away, and Ross roped his arms around you, hugging you to him tightly. It took you another moment to realize that he was crying against you. That only had you holding him all the tighter.

#joey tribbiani x reader #friends fanfiction #joey tribbiani fanfiction #joey tribbiani fluff #joey tribbiani angst #joey tribbiani smut #rachel green x reader #rachel green angst #rachel green fluff #rachel green smut #joey tribbiani imagines #joey tribbiani drabbles #rachel green imagines #rachel green drabbles #friends x reader #friends joey x reader #friends rachel x reader

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viacursecasting · 1 year

Text

Sonadow Scenario #65

Hate.

Shadow could feel the hedgehog's burning gaze upon him as they waited at the lunch table for their comrades. He swore he could feel two holes singe his ebony fur.

Finally he sighed in frustration. "If you have something to say, spit it out already."

Sonic blinked, but then he swallowed. "Do you hate me?"

Shadow was slightly taken aback. "What?"

Sonic pursed his lips, mustering up his resolve. He said with a little more conviction, "Do you hate me?"

Shadow narrowed his eyes. "You really want to know?" After receiving a nod, he stated bluntly, "Yes, I do."

The hero felt a pang in his chest.

But before he could say anything, Shadow continued, "I hate how stupidly confident you are with your talents. I hate how cocky you get before charging headfirst into battle. I hate how you always put others' needs above your own. I hate how you always play the hero, sacrificing yourself for the sake of others. I hate how you constantly put yourself in the line of danger. I hate how you still stand despite taking a beating. I hate how you smile as if that will numb the pain."

His features softened ever so slightly. "I hate... how my heart races when I'm around you. I hate how I admire you even though I'm supposed to be the Ultimate Lifeform. I hate how my thoughts always lead back to you. But most of all..."

He moved so that their noses were an inch apart. His tone was low, like a lover sharing a secret:

"I hate how inviting your stupid lips look."

Sonic burned red to his shoulders. For once he was at a loss for words. "You... I—!"

Suddenly Amy appeared, tray full of Meh Burgers in tow, Tails and Knuckles at her heels with various drinks and condiments. "Hey boys, we're ba—"

The hedgehogs quickly put a mile between them, but not before Amy took note of how close they just were, and she grew giddy with excitement. "Oooh, what have we here?? A sultry exchange between two lovebirds, perhaps?"

Shadow sneered, "There's a bird indeed." He then flipped her off.

Amy gasped. "Not in front of Tails!" But the kit only laughed.

Knuckles regarded the sky. "What bird?"

That evening, Sonic wordlessly escorted Shadow back to his cave. The tension between them was palpable.

They stopped at the mouth of the abode. Shadow addressed the hero, though he didn't meet his gaze. "You needn't have accompanied me."

"I know..." Sonic replied, regarding him with shining emeralds. "But I wanted to."

Ugh. Shadow's stupid heart...!

"Listen," Sonic continued. "All those things you said... Did you really mean it?"

Shadow kept his gaze averted, giving an almost imperceptible nod.

Sonic smirked, moving daringly close. "All of it?"

Shadow instinctively stepped back, finding his back pressed against a rock wall. Still, he nodded once more.

Sonic put his palm against the wall, trapping him. He teasingly cocked his head, their muzzles perfectly positioned for a kiss. He asked under his breath, "Do they still look inviting?"

Shadow stole a glance, regretting everything. He uttered, "Achingly so."

Sonic rested a finger under that tan chin, a tantalizing touch. Their lips brushed when he spoke. "Shall I ease your pain?"

Shadow could no longer take the pounding in his ears. "Just get on with it you foo—mphm!"

Sonic did just that, diving in for a harsh lip-lock. He was pleased to hear that the lifeform was still vocal, and it prompted Sonic to taste his whines and sighs.

A delicacy.

Shadow melted, held upright by the hero's tongue and firm grip around his waist. He thought the ache of longing would cease, and while it did, now he ached for more of Sonic. More of his citrusy scent, of his satisfied moans, of his warm caress. He craned his neck to let the hero explore him deeper, and trembled when Sonic read his mind.

Sonic treated the lifeform like his last gulp of air. He couldn't explain why he wanted—needed this. Needed him. He knew he should have run as soon as he laid eyes on the lifeform, a bright neon sign of danger. But that only made him more enticing. Anyone who chased after such a threat had to be crazy.

And Sonic was booked into an asylum.

Shadow finally gave the hero's chest a gentle push, catching his breath.

Sonic wore a stupid grin, admiring the flush across the lifeform's muzzle, tracing his thumb along those swollen, abused lips. "You're cute, you know that?"

Shadow clutched his bandana to bring him in once more. "I hate you," he muttered.

Before resuming their kiss, Sonic chuckled, a melodious sound. "I hate you, too."

#sonadow scenarios #sonadow #sth #boom!sonadow

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fazfacts · 3 months

Text

HOT DAGA SENTENCE STARTERS

it's actually criminal that nobody has done this before. feel free to change as needed!

❝ If you don't like it, you can kiss my buns. ❞

❝ Oh, he looks all pissed off 'cause his hat's still gone. ❞

❝ Good, I'm glad he's pissed. ❞

❝ I hope he crashes into that wall. ❞

❝ Oh shit, he crashed! ❞

❝ Wow! They look like a happy couple. ❞

❝ She's not happy with his driving, I'll tell you that. ❞

❝ Oh, he's on fire, he looks like he's hurting. ❞

❝ What a horrible occurrence that just happened! ❞

❝ What the fuck? ❞

❝ He's gonna come back like Michael Myers. ❞

❝ I can't really tell what it is, but it went by real quick. ❞

❝ Why did you run from me? ❞

❝ I...I didn't know how to tell you, but...we have a son now. ❞

❝ Wait -- I'm so confused... ❞

❝ Hello, [name]. I'm your father, [name]. ❞

❝ Why did you try to shoot me and leave me for dead? ❞

❝ That wasn't me. ❞

❝ It's me, [name], your evil twin sister. ❞

❝ I won't have you two together. You know I love [name]. ❞

❝ Now it's time to die. Mount your crab. ❞

❝ [Name], step aside! ❞

❝ Do you remember where we were? ❞

❝ Who are you? ❞

❝ Nice to meet you. I love you. ❞

❝ Promise you'll never shoot me, [name]. ❞

❝ Let's cover ourselves in mustard and get craaazy! ❞

❝ I hope you never get eaten on the Fourth of July like my parents. ❞

❝ Your words are making me happy, so I am smiling. ❞

❝ Always love each other, no matter where your paths take you. ❞

❝ We are siblings, but also best friends. ❞

❝ Why would we ever fight? ❞

❝ I have seen it in my special dreams. ❞

❝ Let's go eat the rest of Amelia Earheart for dinner. ❞

❝ My funding...my precious funding... ❞

❝ It's all over now. I suppose I'll let myself rot. ❞

❝ I'm in urgent need of your services. ❞

❝ What a shame...I was so close. ❞

❝ That's a good hashtag. ❞

❝ Like my dear old dad used to say, there's no free condiments in life. ❞

❝ Most condiments are free, actually. ❞

❝ How dare you! ❞

❝ Please, respect my father. May he rest in peace. ❞

❝ This talk of your father seems very shoehorned into this conversation. ❞

❝ I'm your son! From the future! ❞

❝ Hoooly shiiit. ❞

❝ Why did you do it, [name]? Why'd you do any of this? ❞

❝ Because, [name], I'm straight-up evil. ❞

❝ That's bad for the fabric of reality and space-time, I think. ❞

❝ Okay, it's technically not murder or anything. ❞

❝ This is what you get. This is the law of the wild. ❞

❝ I can't bear to watch this inevitable carnage. ❞

❝ I just want a picture of this moment. ❞

❝ I need your help to avenge my death. ❞

❝ We're a family again! A real family! ❞

❝ That's a terrible name. ❞

❝ I'm pretty sure this is a trap... ❞

❝ A crow ate one of my eyes at the bank last Labor Day, by the way. That's why I have an eyepatch now. ❞

❝ Did it ever occur to you, [name], that I loved you and your mustache? Well, I don't anymore, and I see you've shaved your mustache, you idiot. ❞

❝ The day we broke up was the best day of my life. ❞

❝ I saw him do a magic trick once where he sat on his own lap. ❞

❝ I'm suddenly afraid my wife will leave me for him, but he's a nice guy, so that's okay. ❞

❝ Wait a minute, you weren't invited! ❞

❝ It's me, [name], and I'd like to welcome you to Hell. Time to die! ❞

❝ I am displeased! But that does sound narratively rich. ❞

❝ Will you press pause on your shit for five minutes? ❞

❝ I now have to imagine a thing I don't want to imagine, under any circumstance? ❞

❝ Are you proud of yourself? ❞

❝ But I cannot attempt to process that at the moment, for the fear of the emotional toll it would take on me. ❞

❝ How'd we survive? ❞

❝ Ooh, what a plot! ❞

❝ We could go back in time to stop it all. ❞

❝ No need to explain that, we'll remember it always. ❞

❝ Thank you for your service. ❞

❝ Enough talky-time, more spacey-time, idiots. ❞

❝ We threw them into a volcano. They're gone. ❞

❝ I don't negotiate with assholes. ❞

❝ I can't believe it -- I'm alive! ❞

❝ Oh, no, no, hey, c'mon. Nothin' to worry about here. ❞

❝ That doesn't make any sense. ❞

❝ My parents were very juicy and I am, too. ❞

❝ You...don't seem trustworthy. ❞

❝ Oh, I'm plenty trustworthy. ❞

❝ So what's your deal again? ❞

❝ Hm. Makes sense if you actually track the story, probably. ❞

❝ I wonder if Earth's tasty. ❞

❝ I'm not one for decision-making. ❞

❝ I'm both the mayor and the sheriff. ❞

❝ Don't worry, you will soon go to jail. ❞

❝ I want to get perfectly sane, haha. ❞

❝ You're getting more and more sane by the day! ❞

❝ Everyone's dying and the world is basically over. ❞

❝ Sometimes your life don't go exactly as you planned. ❞

❝ The fact that I doubted myself for even a split second is some military-grade bullshit. ❞

❝ It's me, [name], and I'm pissed. ❞

❝ I can't die, I'm beloved! ❞

❝ Question: what the hell's going on? ❞

❝ If you do anything dumb, I will kill you with my hat. ❞

❝ You didn't need to do that, by the way. That's cruel. You understand that? ❞

❝ I didn't ask to exist. In fact, I was very content not being. ❞

❝ Look, I'm sorry about doing you dirty. ❞

❝ We've got some things to discuss, you and me. ❞

❝ Ohhh, okay. We're both dead, then. This is for sure a place where we're both dead. ❞

❝ My last memory was me putting a goldfish in my mouth to make my children laugh. Then I choked to death. ❞

❝ Play shitty games, win shitty prizes, [name]. ❞

❝ I was so consumed with hate and anger that I lost sight of who I was. ❞

❝ Are you just, like, checked out of this conversation now? ❞

❝ I'm just a guy in a void. ❞

❝ I got murked and it chilled me out. ❞

❝ That's my catchphrase, now that I'm fun. ❞

❝ Tell you what, I hate this planet. ❞

❝ There's a small part of my funky, no-good heart that's like, "hell yeah." ❞

❝ Hey, you want some money? It's got my face on it. ❞

❝ The one thing I've always said is, "you can definitely trust someone who repeatedly insists that you can trust them," you idiot. ❞

❝ I'm the queen of deception and straight-up dirty tricks. ❞

❝ Game recognize game, however inferior. ❞

❝ I've just had a tremendously confusing dream. ❞

❝ I'm not in the habit of taking drinks from strangers. ❞

❝ But I'm beloved... ❞

❝ I. Don't. Caaare. ❞

❝ It's almost Friday, the day for kissing! ❞

❝ If you value your life, you might consider staying out of mine. ❞

❝ Is there any way we can put this all behind us? ❞

❝ Are you fucking kidding me? You shouldn't have asked that question. ❞

❝ Oh, thank God. I was about to flip my shit. ❞

❝ Full disclosure, no offense: you seem nuts. ❞

❝ My mind is so clever, some describe me as a God. ❞

❝ My name is [name], and I'm here to say: you'll soon straight-up die today. ❞

❝ I'm perfectly sane, so now it's time to play my funny little game. ❞

❝ Where'd you go to college? Detective school? ❞

❝ I'm gonna save your life for my own benefit. ❞

❝ I have no beef with you. You're clearly dealing with some stuff. ❞

❝ Don't worry, I will murder you. ❞

❝ I feel like you're not being receptive to literally any of my shit. ❞

❝ I was hypnotized for many, many years and frankly, I'm not too happy about it. ❞

❝ Well, you can't blame me for that. I'm dead. ❞

❝ I think you could maybe choose not to be complicit in the destruction of the universe. ❞

❝ Jesus Christ, take a breath. ❞

❝ If you don't stop this instant, I'm gonna hug you. ❞

❝ I feel like a happy sunshine person who always wins. ❞

❝ I feel as critically-acclaimed as I always do! ❞

❝ You should know by now, nothing exciting ever happens around here. ❞

❝ Hey, you ever think about what happens after we die? ❞

❝ Sorry for my dad being a dick all the time...and for following his orders without question. ❞

❝ I hate you and I'm glad you look all fucked-up! ❞

❝ Namaste or whatever. ❞

❝ I just wanna chill 'til I'm dead. ❞

❝ Whoa, okay. I think I'm gonna die. ❞

❝ Those were the bad guys! Why were you, like, chilling with them? ❞

❝ Man, you really pooped the bed on this one. ❞

❝ Okay, your tone is appropriate and I apologize. ❞

❝ I will miss you, [name], the biggest baller of them all. ❞

❝ I'd actually be double-dead, which is the worst kind of dead. ❞

❝ What can one do in the face of such monumental loss but breathe a weary sigh, for the world is a little quieter now. ❞

❝ Sometimes your death don't go exactly how you planned. ❞

❝ I tried the best I can, but I ain't got the stuff. ❞

❝ Frankly, life's been pretty dope. ❞

❝ I know life's been crazy, but believe me, you'll be fine without me here. ❞

❝ There's really no need to cry. ❞

❝ I know things seem kind of shitty and that the odds aren't looking pretty, but what's the point of quitting now? ❞

❝ I won't be here to see it, but you bet your ass that I believe that you'll still save the day somehow. ❞

❝ If I had a fuckin' bucket, then I got a hunch I'd kick it. ❞

❝ Sorry for the cursing, but I'm feeling worse and worse. ❞

❝ I don't wanna die, but I'm probably gonna die. ❞

❝ I'm dying now, just so we're clear. ❞

❝ Holy shit, this is it, I'm gonna die. ❞

❝ I'll see you later, pals, I'm outta here. ❞

#buzzfeed unsolved hot daga #hot daga #hot daga rp #hot daga starters #sentence starters #rp prompts #rp memes

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maple-the-awesome · 10 months

Text

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 27

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 4,779

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: GOODNIGHT AND GOOD MOURNING

Bucky counts two rings of the doorbell and six knocks. Second ring in case the first wasn't heard, six heavy knocks in case the doorbell might be broken, and yet despite this extra work, he never actually had any real expectations for the door to open on its own. Unfortunately, he gave up hope on that a few weeks ago.

Setting some bags down by his feet and cursing when they immediately tip over, he uses his new free hand to fish through his pocket, succeeding in not only finding his keys, but the correct one to unlock this blasted barrier before him.

Per usual, he's greeted with an eerily dark hallway that seems fitting for the start of a horror movie. Shuffling through the door with another curse as the same pesky bags get caught on the handle, he kicks it shut behind himself then calls out into the darkness as if it would reply, "Hey...It's me!"

Unfazed by the greeting of silence, he leaves his boots and coat there before making a b-line for the kitchen, pleased to leave all his grocery bags there to officially free himself of their incontinent weight. He goes to the fridge first, not to put anything away, but rather to grimace at the barren sight inside. Some condiments, a little bit of milk, veggies that look past their expiration date, and a half rack of beer…Good thing he went shopping.

Walking around the bar and into the living room, Bucky almost makes the mistake of going further which would've taken him right past the couch and, more importantly, the motionless lump lying there. When he does spot it in the corner of his eyes, he sighs - for some reason he still has a reason to sigh despite this having become a despairing routine as of lately.

Slowly, he steps over the few empty beer bottles on the floor and squats next to the couch where his frown only grows deeper as he pokes the lump, "It's past noon...You should get up and eat something - You need to get up and eat something."

He only gets a groan in response, but at least that's better than continued silence.

"I bought groceries. I can make something if you want?" Nothing, "...Or I can even order some take-out. Anything particular in mind?"

"...I don't want anything..."

Bucky inhales, although he tries not to make it sound so sharp. Standing upright and grabbing the empty bottles, he heads back into the kitchen, “...You’ll make yourself sick living off of beer alone, you know?”

"For your information, I had ramen yesterday."

"I'm proud of you," He's truly sincere, not that you'd believe that, "That means today, we can have something other than beer or ramen. Now, what do you feel like? I was thinking we could just do a simple, early dinner. I got some frozen pizza. Maybe we can have that and do a movie night or somethin' - just enjoy an easy going, lazy day. What do you say? I wouldn't mind another marathon of Lord of the Rings. You still keep the extended cuts under the TV stand, yeah?”

He’s rambling and normally, you find it enduring, however today - and for the last few weeks - his voice has been a distant echo in your head; nothing but a dull mumble against the terrible thoughts that overtake your care and concern. It makes you feel shitty in every way possible. Bucky visits every day without fail, armed with unlimited patience and kindness that he somehow manages to smother you in without actually smothering you (it’s been painfully obvious that he’s desperately trying to give you some space while still being present).

"Oh yeah, and I also got your favorite. They had it next to check-out. 'thought you'd like some," Even when a candy bar is waved in front of your face, your eyes barely shift to it before disappearing from sight when you curl further into your blanket sanctuary.

"...No thank you.”

Although his smile does wobble a bit into a frown, Bucky forces himself not to break; not here, not in front of you. He’d be an absolute hypocrite to complain, after all, it was him who spent several years moping which (unintentionally) dragged you into quite a lot of trouble. You pulled him from that hole, giving him the support he needed to move on from his past as hard as that had been. Now it’s his turn to return the favor.

Still - and he’s afraid he might be thinking selfishly with this, but there are days where he just wants to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, and force you to go outside for once because the worry is eating away at him right now. It’s been weeks since the Snap - Well, five years for everyone else, but only a few measly weeks since the two of you had been thrown into this whirlwind of events that have left you both shaken.

It’s strange to think you can close your eyes and find out five years have passed. It’s even stranger to be thrown into a war for the universe immediately after, receiving no chance to process everything going on until you’re left with nothing. Natasha, Tony, Steve…The people who you cared for are gone and you never got to say goodbye - not in the way you wanted.

You were so damn happy, too. At long last, you had fixed your life, surrounded by people who were close to Hollie or at least understood that you were once her. No more pretending nor biting your tongue; you were free to just be you, both as Hollie and (Y/n). To think, you were actually excited for your future for the first time in, well, years - decades, even…then it all came tumbling down within mere minutes…Now you’re left with the shattered remains yet again and can’t help but ask yourself: how many more times? When will you have suffered enough?

"...(Y/n)...” Bucky breathes your name and you notice the crack behind his voice as he kneels down beside you, gently moving a strand of hair away from your face, “I’m not asking for you to be okay or to move on. I’m just asking that you take care of yourself a little better. You’re not eating, you haven’t left the apartment in days - I don’t even think you’re really sleeping either. I -...I’m getting really worried about you, darling…”

He has a point. You know he has a point because this isn’t the first time you’ve been here. If anything, you should be an expert on grief and recovery, having learned from experience that wallowing doesn’t bring anyone back…so why do you still feel like utter shit then? You should be a productive member of society, counting your blessings and moving on because you’re lucky enough to even be here. So many people have it worse than you. Bucky, for example. He lost Steve, too. He tries to brush it off, but you see the pain in his eyes. Steve didn’t die or anything. He just…left. He left both of you willingly despite the suffering you’ve already been cursed with…He abandoned you both with it and while you want to be happy for him and happy that he got to be with Peggy in the end as they both deserved…you can’t help feeling pissed…betrayed even…

Bucky has a right to be mad, too. He should have his own time to grieve for himself instead of being stuck in this dark apartment babying you. Even if he has already moved on (not that you’d believe it), that would be all the more reason for him to go live his life. Why does he keep fussing over you when he should be taking care of himself?

“I’m getting really worried about you, darling…”

…You wish you could make Bucky happy. You want him to be happy, having moved on from all those awful things HYDRA had done to the quiet, simple life he desires, yet selfishly at the same time, you don’t actually want to let him go. You’re stuck in this awful limbo where you want to throw in the towel and give up on everything you’ve worked so hard on throughout the years, after all, it sure didn’t take long to crumble around you, but at the same time, you’re so tired of feeling alone…You don’t want to go back to that life even if it means desperately grasping at strings and dragging poor Bucky down with you…

At long last you peek out from behind your blanket, lazily gazing up at the man in question. There was once a time when you would shamelessly swoon at the thought of having his affection and admittedly, you’re heart still flutters at hearing his concern for you, however after the Snap, you can’t help feeling numb inside as if your heart is covered in frozen ice that even Bucky can’t chip away…at least, that's what you had begun to believe until finally getting a good look at him.

Your heart speeds up so suddenly it makes a wave of nausea run over your entire body, making you feel a bit more awake than you had been before. For once you find energy for something and that's to wiggle your arm out from under the blankets, reaching until your fingers manage to touch the top of his head.

"...You cut your hair," You observe so stupidly, avoiding his eyes as you focus only on his new haircut which is quite the change. Yesterday he had his hair pulled back into a bun while complaining of the heat, however today, his long locks are gone, leaving a rather short yet soft fluff behind.

"Yeah...'got it done this morning," He slightly bows his head down towards you more, burning through all his willpower not to fully lean into your touch. He’s as cautious with his movements as he is in watching your expression and asking the question, “Do you like it…?”

You finally allow yourself to look at his face, your fingers just barely running along his cheek on their way to falling limb against the couch again. For a brief second anyone could miss, your lip quivers, but you do good to press it back the same way you blink away any tears threatening to make an appearance. Maybe Bucky notices, maybe he doesn’t.

"...It’s a good look on you,” You inhale, eyes drifting over his facial features to catch every detail because at this point you’ve abandoned all caution. You’ll accept in this moment that you’re being selfish and you’ll also decide not to care, “...You clean up nicely, Barnes. Who would’ve guessed?”

Bucky beams - quite literally, he beams with a boyish grin and glitter to his eyes after hearing you say something more akin to your usual self. Oh, how he’s missed your teasing. Sure, your voice is cracked and barely more than a whisper, but it’s progress he won’t object to. He also doesn’t object to you slowly sitting up while running a hand through your own messy air and sighing at your headache.

“So, um…A movie marathon, you said?”

“Unless you have anything else in mind?”

You press your lips, never letting the hand fall from your head. There’s a voice inside who tries to argue, reminding you that it’ll only end in more heartbreak if you try yet again to pick up the pieces of Hollie’s life, but God, it’s so damn difficult with Bucky’s adorable, hopeful smile. He’s attached to you even without understanding the truth. He cares for (Y/n), he worries about you…That’s supposed to be a good thing, right? You wanted that - wanted to know that he could love you as you, not as just Hollie, however there’s a side of you that doesn’t feel quite right about it for some reason…some reason you’ll ignore.

“...No. A movie night sounds fun…”

Baby steps - that’s what it took for you to start functioning again after Bucky’s supposed death seventy eight years ago; lots and lots of baby steps. Misery doesn’t disappear overnight which is a cruel truth that hasn’t changed between then and the modern era, although misery does fade overtime if you can successfully focus on the things you like and the things you still have.

You might not have your family to pull you out of this funk like last time, but at least you have Bucky (a bittersweet switch, if anything). He’s kept you distracted with different movies he wants to watch and recipes he’d like to bake. He’s always around, in fact you’ve already told him he can keep that spare key to your apartment because honestly, neither of you can remember that last time he’s actually stayed at his own.

Once you stopped stubbornly pushing him away, Bucky was allowed to bear witness to some of the demons that have been haunting your mind since the Snap. It’s safe to say you’ve done your fair share of crying in front of him, letting your frustrations slip as you curse Thanos and the universe and anyone who can possibly be linked to causing your current pain. You’ve expressed your anger with Steve, your sorrow over Natasha, and mourning for Tony.

You’re thankful that, no matter what sobs or curses have escaped you, Bucky has never filled the gap with unrealistic promises that everything will ‘be okay’. You’ve grown tired of hearing that from others, so it’s been refreshing to have someone instead hold you during your moments of vulnerability while promising that they’ll always be there for you when life gets rough.

Thanks largely to Bucky’s encouragement and support, you’ve gotten better. Not ‘better’ as in fully fixed, but ‘better’ as in you can find the strength to go on errands into town and ensure you’re maintaining a healthy diet again.

Life seems to have returned to a small sense of normal again, strongly reminding you of your stay in Romania which you had treasured so much. Coffee together in the mornings, afternoons discussing each other’s day, movie nights, and take-out dinner…It’s no wonder that your parents have inquired about your ‘boyfriend’. Your relationship sure seems to be leaning that way from the outside looking in (more than it ever has before) and, despite how desperately you try to ignore it, sometimes you find yourself drifting too far into the domestic bliss the same way you had in Romania, dangerously letting your guard down until you’re ripped back into reality by an unwanted and awful reminder…First it had been Steve appearing in your apartment those seven years ago, now this…

“You know…” Bucky’s voice easily gains your attention, earning a pleasant hum as you curl your head closer to his chest in acknowledgment.

It’s hot out today meaning the air conditioning’s been blasting with a box fan rumbling mere feet away, yet you’ve still filed no complaint towards cuddling close to his side on the couch while binging an entire season of The Office.

Despite your patience waiting for a response, it doesn’t come too promptly. Instead he awkwardly adjusts his arm around you and swallows before speaking, “...We should go out to dinner tomorrow night.”

You’re both blind and deaf to his shyness, merely perking an eyebrow without taking your eyes off the screen, “Why tomorrow? Are you on a diet that says you can’t eat dinner on Tuesday nights?”

Usually he’d chuckle at such a comment, and he nearly does, a short sound making it past his lips which he quickly bites back, “N-No, I mean, we’ll still eat dinner tonight obviously, I was just trying - I’d like to go somewhere nice together. Sit down dining, type deal.”

Finally understanding the hint, you become a bit nervous yourself, “How ‘nice’ are we exactly talking? Red Robins kinda nice or um…make a reservation nice?”

“Nicer than Red Robins…” He rubs the back of his neck with a shrug, although you don’t get a chance to voice your concerns because he skillfully spots them first, “Don’t worry about money or anything like that. I’ve been saving. I was thinking I’d treat ya’ - take you out to dinner someplace special for the evening…I promised after all.”

Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise when you push away from him so quickly that you almost fall off the couch. It would be one thing for you to just turn and look at him, however your movements are desperate as if his touch had suddenly burned you. The way you’re actually looking at him doesn’t help, either. You appear as if you’ve seen a ghost, face pale and eyes wild as you stare.

“W-When?”

“Huh -?”

“When did you promise that?” You whisper rather cautiously, only further confusing the poor man.

“In Wakanda? A week or so before you came there I promised that when we see each other again, I’d take you out to dinner - as a thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” Bucky frowns, visibly concerned about your behavior, enough so that he hesitates to reach out to you, “Are you alright -?”

“- I…I don’t know if that’s a good idea…‘sounds kinda like a date, don’t you think?” You try to calm your heartbeat through deep yet casual breaths, even attempting a poor laugh at the end of your sentence, however it’s clear such struggling is useless; that damage has already been done.

Bucky bows his head in shame while slowly retracing his hand, “...Would a date be so bad?”

You open your mouth only to close it, fearing the nausea that bubbles within your stomach. This isn’t how you expected your reaction to be. You’ve been dreaming of this moment, desperately hoping for the day Bucky asks you out so that you can finally rekindle that relationship you once had and miss dearly. It would have to be by his own terms, you decided long ago, not wanting to push him by making the move yourself, however secretly, there has been another reason for waiting - a certain anxiety that has interested in relevance over these last nine years.

"The second I get back, I'm taking you out to dinner - a nice place, too, I've been saving.”

“Let me do this for you, Hollie. Eight o'clock sharp. Houghton's. I'd say wear something nice, but you look dazzling in anything."

It isn’t easy having lived two lives. It isn’t easy having the memories of a different person - although still you - who remains in pieces only inside your mind and personality. You’re Hollie. You’ve maintained certain traits of hers and you continue to love all that she had…but you’re also (Y/n). You don’t look the same and you endured a new childhood, in a new world, with a new family…While in your own eyes, you’d argue that this change is minimum, equivalent to the way a child changes into a teen and a teen into an adult, there’s has always been a fear hidden within your heart that others might not see the same.

What if someone who knew you then doesn’t like who you are now?

You were able to set that question aside for the others. Steve knew Hollie as a friend. You were close, although your interactions were limited and rarely were you alone. Frankly, you became closer during your time as (Y/n) when each other's support was needed more than ever. Tony knew Hollie as an aunt when he was very young. His image of you was built upon four years of vague memories with your care and support being at the forefront; that’s all he expected from (Y/n)...Neither of them truly compared to Bucky, a man who loved Hollie in more ways than one and got to know her best despite your short time together.

What if he doesn’t like who you are now?

Bucky loved Hollie - he still loves her. You saw her picture in his wallet once when he brought groceries over. You’re okay with that part alone, however you worried that if you immediately told him from the very beginning that you’re the same person as that girl in the photo - from that first day you found him in DC - would he have only loved you because of Hollie? Because the concept of being with you was his only chance of being with her again?

It’s ridiculous and foolish. You act jealous of yourself, although you honestly believed it to be in the best interest for both of you. You don’t want to exist solely as a living memory, not an individual, and you don’t think it would’ve been healthy for Bucky, either. He needed to love you for who you are now. He needed to move on in some way.

He has moved on. Hollie’s still kept close to his heart, yet he’s sitting here now asking for you. He’s spent months - no, years probably - loving you and looking to you as a means to finally be happy. This is exactly what you wanted…so why do you still feel so shitty inside?

"(Y/n)!”

You turn your head. You can tell by his eyes that Bucky didn’t mean to raise his voice, but at least it gained your attention at last. Cautiously, he reaches for you again, this time committing to the action. It’s only when the cold metal of his thumb runs along your cheek that you realize you’re crying.

“...It doesn’t have to be a date. We don’t even have to go. Don’t -...Don’t worry about it, alright? It’s not that big of a deal?” Oh, but it is. Bucky’s such a terrible liar. If it truly wasn’t a big deal, then why did his voice crack with a dejected undertone?

“I-I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I’m just…being emotional for no reason at all,” You huff mostly to yourself, miserably attempting to rub the tears away with the edges of your sleeves. Bucky has much better luck at it, carefully using his thumbs and palms to catch your tears. All the while, he searches your eyes for any sign of harm which almost makes you forget your sadness…almost…

Meeting his gaze, you move a hand of your own to his cheek, smiling softly, “I’d love to go on a date with you, James.”

“But -”

“- I’m afraid.”

His mouth snaps shut after your whisper and it takes him a second to meet it, equally as silent, “...Why?”

You don’t answer too promptly yourself. A keen eye would notice your hesitation as you heavily debate your next action, although you hide it well behind the admiration you seem almost drunk on while running your hand back into Bucky’s much shorter hair. For years you’ve bit your tongue and danced around your inner thoughts which has been a tiring endeavor for sure, enough so that in a moment like this, you’ve lost the willpower to keep the act up, choosing to instead speak directly from your heart regardless of the risk.

“...You’ve always been so good to me, James. ‘a real knight in shining armor…You know, I was so alone before I met you, not thinkin’ I’d ever find someone who could keep up with my nonsense. Others figured me to be crazy, that or they were intimidated by me being too ‘unique’, as my family put it. Whether I tried to change or not, it didn’t matter because if I wasn’t different to the world, I was different to myself. There was no winning and my displacement only seemed to grow with age. ‘started to believe the universe cursed me for some reason - that I must’ve done something terrible in my past or perhaps I was simply too happy at some point, leaving an overdrawn balance now…I didn’t want to do it anymore, but then you came around again. You gave me hope - meaning, even.

“I feel happy with you - very happy, as if I can breathe easy and just be myself without ever worrying about judgment again because as long as you like me, that’s all I need to know that I’m not crazy,” Bucky opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get a chance when you gently place a finger to his lips, “You mean sooo much to me, James, in fact I don’t think you’ll ever be able to truly understand the full extent of my love for you…and that’s what scares me. There’s…Well, there’s something I need to tell you, but I’m afraid that whenever I do, you’ll push me away. Whether it’s because you don’t believe me or you get mad at me -”

“- I could never get mad at you, darling -”

“- You say that now and I'm sure you believe it, but once you hear what I have to say, you might change your mind -”

“- I don’t think that’s possible -”

“- James -”

“- You said that I might not understand the extent of your love, but I don’t think you understand mine,” He interrupts more sternly, slowly grasping your wrist and lowering your hand over his heart. He holds it there and doesn’t let go, a hint of shyness in his eyes, “You mean a lot to me - you have meant a lot to me for a while now. Around you, I feel relaxed a-as if all those things HYDRA had done never happened. I start to think that I might actually deserve a happy life by your side and even if I don’t, then fuck it, I don’t find myself caring. I want to be with you anyways because every second that I’m not, I’m restless like a piece of me is gone…Being here with you, I…It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time…There’s nothing you could say to make it suddenly go away.”

You chuckle apprehensively with a shake of your head, letting your gaze finally fall from his, “...I bet I could…”

“I highly doubt it,” He rolls his eyes, leaning close enough for his own quiet laughter to be felt. You steal a glance at his lips, nearly giving into your own temptation to touch them, although you hesitate there instead.

“You don’t know -”

“- I don’t need to then -”

“- This is serious, James!” You plead weakly, trying to pull your hand from his and move off his lap where you just now notice he’s brought you, yet it should be of no surprise that he’s stronger than you and won’t let this matter drop so easily without resolve.

Your actions cause his concern to return and he becomes serious once again, his stormy eyes watching you so very carefully with his bottom lip puffed out in a pout, “...What’s really wrong, (Y/n)? I don't get it. You just said that you love me too and that must be true - I believe that it's true because, I mean, why else would you have stuck by my side after all the shit I’ve dragged you into? I-If I have to do more to prove my love for you, I will, if that’s what has you so worried - Or if you’re not ready for a relationship yet, that’s fine, too. Just…tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it. No more beatin’ around the bush…Please, darling…”

Suddenly, your eyes feel so stern watching him despite the tears that fill them as you slightly bow your head in what you would deem as shame, although he might mistake it for anger given how persistent and strange you’re behaving. He’s all ears, though. Maybe slightly taken aback by your vulnerable speech, but this isn’t the first time you’ve expressed your inner thoughts with him since the Snap and he’s here to listen without judgment as he’s always been. He just hopes he didn’t make you uncomfortable by overstepping.

Usually you're the one to make him flustered. He thought all of your prior flirting meant he was safe to ask you out, however he’s now starting to second guess all of that. He hasn’t dated since Hollie, after all. He’s been out of the game for so long, it’s completely possible that he read the situation wrong. Then again, you just admitted to loving him, so what’s stopping you? You had assured long ago that you have no actual fiancé, he's certain you aren't dating anyone else at the moment, and you've both gone in public countless times together, so surely you aren't ashamed to be seen with him even despite his muddy past. Is it too soon after the Snap? Are you just not ready for commitment? Why are you suddenly acting so hesitant as if you haven't spent the last several years longing for each other?

"...Bucky," He shallows somewhat nervously when you whisper his name, meeting eyes once again, "...I'm Holiday Stark..."

NEXT CHAPTER ->

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

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sergeantsporks · 1 year

Note

writing request : camilla is working late so luz, amity, willow, gus, and hunter have to cook for themselves

(I sadly had to cut Luz out because she probably would have vetoed some of this nonsense, but everyone else is fair game.)

“Pasta?”

Hunter set the box on the counter. “Check.”

“Vegetarian meatstuff?”

Willow set down tofu. “Check.”

“Filling sauce?”

Amity gingerly waved the mustard bottle up and down. “Are you sure we’re supposed to use this?”

Gus shook his head. “Amity, Amity, Amity. Don’t you trust me?”

“I mean—it’s not that I don’t trust you, I’d just like to know… why?”

“Mustard goes on hot dogs. Ketchup goes on hot dogs. Ketchup is used in ravioli, and ergo, since Mustard and Ketchup are interchangeable as hot dog condiments, obviously they are interchangeable as ravioli ingredients!”

Amity checked the recipe on the box of ravioli. “…This says tomato sauce, not ketchup.”

“Ketchup is tomato, it’s the same thing. Just trust me, Amity. I know what I’m doing.”

“Maybe we should just wait for Camila to get home?”

“She said she’d be late today,” Hunter chimed in, “Besides, she and Vee cook for us a lot. It’s the least we can do to make dinner for them every once in a while.”

“That’s true.” Amity set the bottle of mustard down on the counter, stepping back with her hands up. “Alright, Gus, I trust you. Take it away.”

“Great. Aaaaaaand, cheese!” Gus set a jar of nacho cheese on the counter. “Okay!” He clapped his hands together. “Willow, start chopping up the tofu! Hunter, I need a cup of mustard on the stove cooking with the cheese!”

Hunter and Willow saluted and got to work. Gus turned towards Amity.

“Amity, I need you to preheat the oven to four-hundred degrees!”

“Okay…” Amity turned the oven on. “Now what?”

Gus took the pasta out of the box. “…mmm, it’s a little hard…”

“We could boil it?” Willow suggested.

“But then we have to cook it in the oven! We can’t cook it twice, that’s crazy!”

“Soak it?” Amity suggested.

“Like a plant!” Willow agreed.

“Excellent thinking, team!”

Gus ran for a bowl, filling it with water and shaking the sheets of pasta into the water. “Hunter, how’s the sauce coming along?”

Hunter backed away from the stove. “It’s hissing and spitting at me.”

“That means it’s ready! Tofu, if you please, Willow!”

Willow picked up the cutting board and scraped the tofu in. “All ready, captain! Should we put spices in, SIR!”

“The box says oregano!” Amity piped up, waving it.

Gus grinned. “We can do better than that! Get me, uhhhhh oregano, pepper, uhhh…. What was that thing we had the other day… paprika!”

Amity handed him the bottles, and he shook them in wildly, until the mustard was almost orange with paprika.

“Excellent!” Gus stirred the mixture around. “Ahhhh, should have saved some mustard for the bottom of the pan!”

“We can just put it on cold,” Hunter suggested, “It’ll heat up in the oven, anyway.”

“True.” Gus took the pan of filling off of the stove, plunking it on a hotplate. The pasta left the water, and Willow cut them into squares. Gus lined them up, top and bottom. “Hunter?”

Hunter scooped out dollops of filling onto each bottom square, and Gus put the top on, pinching them together. Hunter shook mustard onto the bottom of the pan, moving the pan back and forth quickly until it spread over the whole bottom. “Pan’s ready.”

Gus dropped each ravioli in, then slathered more mustard on top, as well as a dollop of cheese. “Ready to go in!”

“How long?”

“Ummmmm fifteen minutes sounds right?”

Amity shook her head. “No way it cooks in that time!”

“Box says ten, actually,” Hunter piped up. “Our oven is too hot, too. And—”

Gus held his hands up. “Okay, compromise! Ten minutes on four hundred, does that work for everyone?”

Amity and Hunter glanced at the pan, at each other, then to him. “Okay,” they chorused.

Gus slid the pan into the oven. “And nowwwwww we wait!”

Willow headed towards the sink to do the dishes, and Hunter and Gus crouched in front of the oven to watch the ravioli through the window.

“It’s bubbling,” Hunter commented, “Is that good?”

“Means it’s cooking.”

“Oh. How do you know so much about cooking, anyway?”

“Well, I’ve never really cooked before—unless you count making a sandwich—but I’ve watched my dad cook plenty of times.”

“Well, your sandwiches are pretty good. I bet this will be, too.”

“Thanks.” Gus watched the ravioli, counting the bubbles. “You think he’s okay?”

“The ravioli?”

“My dad.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course he is.”

Gus snorted. “Convincing.”

“I mean, he cooks, he’s a reporter used to being in dangerous situations, and he raised you, right? He can take care of himself. He’s okay.”

“I guess.”

Hunter nudged him. “And I bet he’d love your mustard ravioli.”

“Of course he would. It’s going to be delicious. Do you think it’s done?”

A ravioli exploded, sending its filling all over the oven with a pop.

“Yeah, I think it’s done.”

Hunter reached in and pulled the pan out with his bare hands, sliding it onto the stovetop. “Looks good!”

The door opened and closed, and the jangle of Camila’s keys hit Gus’ ears. “Hey, kids!” she called, “Sorry I’m late! You guys must be hungry.”

Gus raced to meet her. “Actually! We made dinner! Here, you can be the first to try my special, homemade ravioli!”

She let him lead her to the kitchen. “Oh, ravioli? How thoughtful, thank you Gus!”

“Well—everyone helped. But it was my recipe.”

“Exciting! I can’t wait to try!”

Gus grabbed a plate, spooning a couple of the ravioli on. “Oh, yeah! Hope you’re ready for an explosion of flavor!”

#camila run #toh #the owl house #my writing #toh fanfiction #gus porter #willow park #amity blight #toh hunter #writing requests

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imaginingmarvelandeverything · 2 years

Text

Anniversary

Request: If it’s not so much trouble, can you please do a one shot where Dick & Grace with the help of Alfred celebrate their parents’ wedding anniversary? Just a homey celebration or something.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Warnings: Almost smut at the start

Word Count: 1396

A/N: So, I got a tad carried away with this request, and I thought you all deserved some fluff before I drop the second parts of In Better Circumstances and The Foundations of Decay. Anyway, I hope you like it!!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Headcanon Requests Open!

“Do you think it’s weird?” Bruce asked against Y/N’s shoulder, hovering over her as his lips brushed against the edge of her scar.

“What?” She asked, carding her fingers through his hair as her other hand ran up and down his spine.

“That we celebrate our anniversary on our wedding day and not the sixth of November.”

She laughed and brought his face up to hers so she could look at him. “Yeah, could you imagine having that conversation with the kids. Grace, Dick, by the way, we only got married because your grandparents got arrested and the whole city turned on me. Only to realise, after both of us nearly died, that we’re both dumbasses who have been in love with each other for the majority of our lives.”

He smiled. “Well, when you put it like that.” He leaned down and kissed her, her fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

They separated with a groan as a knock sounded on the door. Bruce dropped one of his shoulders to cover Y/N’s bare chest as the door opened and Alfred stuck his head in. He adverted his eyes to the ceiling as he saw the position they were in.

“Alfred?” Bruce asked, frustrated at being interrupted.

“The children have asked if you would come downstairs for breakfast. They have a surprise for you.”

“Tell them we’ll be there in ten minutes.” Y/N told him, only for Bruce to practically growl into her shoulder. “Okay, maybe twenty.” She laughed as Alfred left the room with his cheeks stained pink. She turned her attention back to Bruce. “That was mean you know.”

Bruce had already reattached his lips to her collarbone. “It’s my anniversary, as far as I am aware, that means I get to enjoy some time with my wife.”

She groaned at his words and tangled her fingers in his hair again as his lips made their way down her body.

***

When Bruce was eventually satisfied, they cleaned up and got dressed before making their way downstairs. The main room was strangely deserted and they shared a look as they heard a lot of clattering coming from the kitchen. They were barely to the kitchen door when Grace came barrelling out and ran straight into Y/N’s legs.

“You can’t come in the kitchen, it’s a surprise!” She tried to push her mom backwards but Y/N and Bruce just shared a smile as Alfred stuck his head out.

“Everything okay in there?” Y/N took in Alfred’s ruffled appearance.

“Perfect. Everything is completely under control.”

Grace was still trying to push Y/N backwards. “You need to go and wait at the table.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” Y/N ran her fingers through Grace’s hair before finally taking a step backwards.

Grace looked pleased with herself as she retreated back into the kitchen. Bruce and Y/N shared a look before walking back to the main room and taking their usual seats at the table.

“They’re going to burn the kitchen down, aren’t they?” Y/N said with a smile.

Bruce laughed. “I’m sure Alfred won’t let them. I’m pretty sure the kitchen is his favourite room in this place, he will be watching them like a hawk.” He reached forward and fixed them both a cup of tea from the tea set that had been set out. He threw an arm around her shoulders as she pulled the morning paper towards her and started reading.

They both looked up as Dick walked in carrying a large tray filled with pancakes, flanked by Grace carrying an armful of condiments, and Alfred, carrying the ones she clearly could not.

“Happy anniversary!” Dick announced, setting the tray down on the table in front of you.

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled, pulling Grace onto her lap as she tried to put the condiments she was holding on the table. Dick and Alfred stayed standing and she turned her attention to them. “I hope you’re planning on joining us. There’s enough food here to feed an army.”

They sat down and everyone helped themselves to the pancakes and toppings the kids had prepared, with Alfred’s help of course. Y/N did not miss the box Alfred sneakily slipped Bruce as he sat down at the table. But she chose not to comment and instead stopped Grace from dowsing herself in chocolate sauce.

When they had all eaten their fill, the box reappeared in Bruce’s hand. He turned to Y/N and smiled.

“We said we weren’t doing presents.” She reminded him.

“I know, and I had every intention of following through with that. But then I found something. Something I have been looking for, for a long time.” He handed her the small, black box.

Based on the size of the box, she was expecting jewellery, but when she opened the lid, she could not have been more wrong. She picked up the set of keys with a shaking hand and felt tears prick her eyes. She was aware of everyone watching her as she looked back up at Bruce.

“Is this really-?”

He nodded. “It’s down in the garage.”

She stood from the table and he mimicked her.

“Can I come?” Grace piped up.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Y/N said, catching Dick’s eye. “You can too.”

He smiled and the four of them climbed in the elevator as Alfred started ferrying things back into the kitchen. Y/N pressed the keys further into her palm. She had always known that Bruce knew her better than anyone, but the idea that he had been looking for this since her parents were sentenced made her heart swell.

Bruce lifted Grace into his arms as the elevator doors opened and they all walked out. The lights glinted off the mustang’s cherry-red paintjob. Bruce rested a hand on Dick’s shoulder to keep him by the elevator with him as Y/N walked over to the car.

Her hand shook as it traced along the body panels while she walked around the car. The paintwork was still as immaculate as the day she touched it up as teenager. She used the key to open the passenger door and pulled the leaver to pop the bonnet. She slid her fingers under until she hit the catch and lifted it up, securing it with the stand. She quickly surveyed the engine, checking for the most obvious problems.

“I drove it here, but I don’t know if there are any issues. I assumed you would want to sort them yourself if there were any.” Bruce said as he and Dick walked over. He set Grace down on the floor, watching as she immediately climbed into the car via the passenger door Y/N had left open.

“She looks alright. I’ll have to run full diagnostics, but she seems fine.” She told him, moving the bonnet stand and letting it drop closed. She turned into him and threw her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find it sooner.”

“Where did you find it?” She pulled back and smiled at Dick, who had climbed into the drivers seat and was pretending to drive for Grace’s entertainment.

“Upstate with an investment banker. Turns out Commissioner Savage sold most of your parents estate that the police seized on the down low. Gordon mentioned something about it a few months ago. I’ve been looking since.” He told her with a shrug, as if it was no big deal that he had apparently spent months tracking down the first car she had rebuilt as a teenager and never thought she would see again.

She turned back to him and kissed him softly, before pulling back and resting her forehead against his. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiled.

Taglist: In the reblogs

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x fem!reader #the batman #battison #batman x reader #batman imagine #robert pattinson #dick grayson #convenience #alfred pennyworth

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lovelandfrogispookybear · 7 days

Text

17: Run the Taps

Dustin's pov

I pace around Steve's house. They went off to find Murray, and the rest of us are stuck back here waiting for something to happen.

"Guys! There's a radio announcement!" Will calls from the living room.

"I haven't heard one of these in ages," Mike comments. We all gather around the dusty device, and words crackle out of the speaker.

"Hello Hawkins. Due to the recent events and drastic changes in the climate, you are all urged to stay inside. Electricity and water are already on the fritz, so empty your fridges to avoid food spoilage and fill your sinks and tubs with water so you have a water source. Military presence is expected to double, and if they come knocking, please do your best to adhere to their rules. Good luck all, we'll do our best to keep you updated."

"I will go run the taps," El says, walking towards the bathrooms.

"I'll go empty the fridge, Otto, do you want to help me?" Will says.

"Will, do you need any help?" Mike asks.

"No, it's ok! Go help El!" Will says. The smile on his face seems a bit strained, but he must be tired.

"Are you sure?" Mike looks almost disappointed when Will shakes his head.

Murray's pov

I hear knocking on my door. I set down my novel and go to check the security system, before realizing it's down.

"Mother fucker, what's it now?" I ask myself, taking a swig of vodka. "Damn Hawkins folks!" I walk to the door, and unlatch the deadbolts.

"Make this quick, I'm still recovering from that trip to Rus-" I start. "Nancy Wheeler?" I ask, getting a closer look. A pack of other kids runs up behind her. "Ok, what do you all want now?"

"It's about all this that's happening right now!" A blond girl wearing suspenders in the back pipes up.

"Let me guess. You want to use my house as some little hiding place?" I ask. "Because, that was exactly my plan."

"Wait, really?" Nancy says, confused.

"I mean it does seem lately, that every time this little squad of yours has a problem," I start, putting a hand on my hip. "I'm the one bailing you out."

"I wouldn't go that far-" Nancy starts.

"Ah ah ah. Barbra, and BOTH times I had to deal with the Russian government?" I bellow. "But, as I said, I anticipated this. After that first bout of greyness- come in come in- and rushed to the stores."

I step aside.

Will's pov

"Take this jar of jelly, you can make a sandwich!" I hand her a jar of grape jelly as I remove condiments from the fridge.

"Sandwich?" She asks, peering into the jar.

"Grab that bread over there-" I instruct. Otto nods, and grabs it. "Now open the bag and get two slices. Put jelly on one, and peanut butter on the other," I add, handing her the peanut butter. She dips her hand into the jar, and smears jelly onto one of the bread slices.

"Can we add red?" Otto asks as she adds peanut butter to the other slice.

"Well well well, what's happening in here Pipsqueak?" Eddie walks into the kitchen. Otto shows him her sandwich, and he laughs. "Let's clean you up, then we can label those jars with your name so only you can use them, okay?"

Otto nods.

"Hey, when she says red, what does that mean?" I ask as Otto busies herself washing up at the kitchen sink.

"Red is either the expensive steak she ate yesterday or watermelon. If she wants to put it on that monstrosity of a pb&j, I'd say watermelon."

"Otto, what if we try a new red?" I ask. Eddie walks back out to the living room, and I grab a dish of strawberries. Otto grabs the dish greedily, and tears the strawberries into small bits; sprinkling them on her sandwich, She puts the bread together, and takes a messy bite. Her eyes light up, and she shoves the rest into her mouth and goes to wash her hands off again.

Eddie's pov

I hear knocking on the door. I pull it open, and an unfamiliar face greets me.

"Hello Hawkins, I am back!" The face belongs to a bearded man wearing glasses and a floral print robe. "And I brought some more folks!"

"Mom!" Will shouts, running from the kitchen.

"Dad!" El follows, bolting from the hallway.

El throws herself into the chief of police's arms, and Will tenderly hugs the dark haired woman. Otto comes up behind me, and hides behind my legs. After a few moments, everyone breaks apart.

"Well who's this little kiddo?" The dark haired woman asks, motioning to Otto. She steps out slowly, and smiles a toothy grin. The woman steps back a bit, but reaches a hand out to shake. Otto takes it as an invitation, and grabs her arm and shakes it vigorously.

"If it isn't Eddie Munson!" Chief says, patting me on the back. "No drugs here kid, there are children running around."

"I'm here with Otto and Dustin," I stammer, but Chief chuckles.

"No worries. Call me Hopper."

"And I'm Joyce," the dark haired woman smiles. "Will is my son, El is my daughter, and Hopper is my partner."

"And I'm Murray!" The bearded man who knocked at the door jumps in. "Your guys' little squad grabbed me, and thanks to them we now have a tank and a military grade truck full of supplies."

"And a warehouse. Murray drove us by one and it's only like a 20 minute walk from here," Robin says.

"Minor detail guys," Dustin says. "Do we have Max and Lucas?"

"We couldn't go to the hospital. It's in a really infested area and we couldn't risk driving noisy cars through it," Jonathan explains.

"Well we need to get to them, communicate with them. And not just through the void," Dustin shoots a look at El. "We need to get to them in person as soon as possible, so if anybody is in danger we can get to them as soon as possible."

"How are we supposed do that?" Mike asks, walking out.

"If we can't drive, then how are we supposed to get there?" I say to myself. "We don't drive. We take someone who can handle the things out there. You take Otto."

I look over to Otto.

"Pipsqueak? Do you want to go on a field trip?" I ask her. She nods.

#we found her down there #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #dustin henderson #will byers #steve harrington #mike wheeler #el hopper #murray bauman #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #jim hopper #joyce byers #the upside down #tw swearing #bubble writes words

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mshroom1e · 1 year

Note

Hi♡ it's my first time making a request but first of all how do you feel lately? I do really hope you are good! I don't know if you still take any request but I wanted to request (if you want to) a story between a fem reader and Thoma who doesn't know how to cook :)

The reader doesn't know how much condiments to put,the proportion and its getting her mad not knowing that 😂

I mean something fluffy and happy a Thoma that stay with the reader teaching them how to cook ♡

Thank you so much again for reading and have a lovely day/night ♡

Yes. I love this plot so much honestly. I got a little carried away while writing so I hope it isn't nonsense that I'm about to post. I hope you have a wonderful day/night too!! Thank you!♡♡

quick a/n: I know it's meant to be fem! reader, but there really wasn't any need for using pronouns or anything since it's just moments between the reader and Thoma. [Name] is intended to be fem but can be read as gn too. I hope you enjoy!!

Stir and Mix | Thoma x Fem! Reader

type: fanfic

Summary: You suck at cooking. Not much else to say except the phrase, 'let him cook' can't be applied to you. Hopefully Thoma can help you with that problem.

1.6k words

Warning(s): nothing other than [Name]'s radioactive cooking.

"It's a start..." Thoma gave you a stiff smile, trying his best not to grimace.

On a plate in front of him sat what could only be described as an absolute abomination. Thoma had gotten sick and you took it upon yourself to try and make something for him to eat. Emphasis on the 'try'.

It was safe to say that cooking had never been your speciality. You were one of those people who had the ability to burn water by complete accident.

Thoma sighed, shaking his head lightly. He found it endearing that you put in so much effort to make him something, however, it usually ended up in him having to clean up after you without your knowledge, but he never told you or complained about it.

You were kind of proud of your work, and seeing Thoma's tense expression made your shoulders drop a little. This time, you were sure you thoroughly followed the recipe, but it's the thought that counts ig.

"It's a very good first try at making uh..." for the life of him, he couldn't tell what the dish even was.

"It's curry."

"Right."

"..."

"Why is it purple...?"

"Don't ask."

- A few hours ago -

"Leave it to me!" You grinned, pointing at your chest with your thumb.

"How about I do it once I get better?" Thoma protested, trying to get out of the bed you practically tossed him in before letting out a loud sneeze.

"But you're sick and you need to rest. Besides, you work too much." You pushed him by a hand on his chest, his back hitting the soft mattress with a little 'thump'.

"But it's just a light cold. It'll go away in a day."

"Rest."

There was then silence followed by a staring contest and Thoma blinked first, making you the winner of this argument.

He signed with a soft smile, "I really can't win against you. Can I?"

"Don't worry and just relax. I'm actually great at cooking, you know? I'll have something made in no time. Easy peasy."

Usually, Thoma was the one to do all the cooking while you would help him with cutting the vegetables or washing dishes and whatnot. He never let you near a stove after the incident where you accidentally gave poor Ayaka food poisoning when she offered to try one of your dishes.

You almost triggered a national conflict just with a plate of poorly cooked katsudon.

Despite your confidence, Thoma wasn't convinced and gave you a sceptical look, making you turn your head to the side as your cheeks grew warm.

"Fine, just please don't risk someone's health like last time..."

A rush of confidence ran through your veins. You were prepared. With a cookbook and all.

So here you were, in the kitchen of your shared home while Thoma was sleeping. Of course, for you to be able to even step in the vicinity of the stove, your significant other had to be unconscious. Out cold. Or else he would be anxiously pacing somewhere else in the house, hoping you didn't set his kitchen on fire.

Sounds of paper flickering filled the room as you looked for a recipe that would help someone with a light cold. A recipe for "simple, foolproof curry" caught your eye. The long list of vegetables and other healthy-sounding ingredients caught your attention rather easily, so you settled for it. You already had all the ingredients that you would need, well, kind of.

The recipe included beef, but you decided to use chicken instead since it was a healthier meat and added it into your cauldron- uh, I mean pot. It said to cook the onions until tender but never specified how, so you settled for boiling them whole. Next was to stir in garlic, ginger and grated apple into a pot. There were no apples in the kitchen so you chose a banana and an orange instead as they were under the same family as apples, in your opinion, and had potassium and vitamin c to help the immune system. The more fruit, the better, right? (this is incorrect. I do not condone this behaviour).

The recipe asked for flour, but you couldn't find where Thoma hid it so you added bread since they were technically the same thing. The last step said to add tomato paste, carrots, potatoes and other vegetables of your choice.

You then covered the pot and let the dish cook.

About an hour later, a toxic smell that you translated to be the delicious smell of your cooking wafted through the air. It seemed to wake Thoma up as a loud thud came from the bedroom as if he fell off the bed.

Opening the pot with a huge grin, you admired your creation.

Bubbles similar to what could be assumed to be from a witch's cauldron rose to the top of the concoction. Dead-looking vegetables and whole onions floated around the surface like dead fish in a lake. The pot screamed despair and bloody murder. Literal green fumes danced around and warped outside of the pot. A strange purple colour was blended in with the natural brown of the curry. Bits of banana and orange looked like they had been through seven archon wars as they seemed to be clawing at the metal of the pot, alive and begging to be let out of the putrid puddle that was your cooking. It deserved to be thrown away by waste control. Buried where no lifeforms could make contact with it. Encased in Liyuen amber for the safety of the public.

"Leave it to me," You said.

"I'm actually great at cooking," You said.

It was all a lie. Everything was a lie.

Thoma walked into the room with a diabolically flabbergasted expression on his face. When he made eye contact with you, he tried to play it off like he was yawning but his sweating and stiff face gave it away.

A few days later after Thoma finally got better, he decided to hold a small cooking class for you.

The first thing he would teach you to make was bread.

"The ingredients aren't too complicated and neither are the steps. It just needs a little patience," Thoma reassured you while gently holding both of your hands.

"I'll try my best," You returned, enthusiastic and confident.

Thoma laughed as you sneezed from inhaling flour while you poured some of it on the tabletop.

"Careful," he chucked.

Then, you 'accidentally' let some flour get onto his sleeve.

"Whoops," You replied, sticking your tongue out at him.

"[Name]..." He got closer to you, making your heart act funny.

Suddenly, your cheek was smeared with a layer of flour and you gasped. That sneaky sneaker.

Thoma mimicked you and stuck his tongue out at you, making you laugh at his antics.

After a few more of your shenanigans, you completed the dough and tossed it in the oven. You definitely, surely 100% weren't drooling over Thoma as you watched him mix and kneed the dough. Why would you ever even think that?

Soon, your confidence deflated after your first cooking lesson ended. Your loaf of bread looked dreadful and wrinkly, and even more so when compared to the fluffy goodness that Thoma put together.

You took off your apron with a frustrated sigh, "This really isn't working. I'm sure I did everything right too..."

"Maybe it was just your way of kneading the dough? It's quite difficult to master, especially on your first try," Thoma gently rubbed your back with a gentle smile on his face.

"But you said it was easy," You groaned.

"Then maybe I'm not the best teacher," he stifled a laugh at your pouty expression and puffed out cheeks, "Let's try another recipe tomorrow."

"Okay..."

The results were the same the next day, the day after that, and the day after that. Everything you made was diabolical. Sure, you were improving slowly with Thoma's tips but not enough for you to not get irritated at your still present lack of skill.

Thoma was patient with you throughout, cheering you on to the best of his ability and always trying to help you in whatever way he could.

You hoped today would be different. A new and determined glint in your eyes shined brightly as you walked into the kitchen with fire in your step.

"Let's do this. Again"

Thoma decided on a Mondstat staple, Mondstadt Hash Browns. He gave you instructions on what to do while he watched your technique and made sure everything was right.

You added the ingredients in the way that you were instructed, abandoning your own little additions that usually resulted in catastrophies and disaster. The potatoes were the correct texture, the outside was crispy, the broccoli was steamed to perfection, and everything looked great.

Now, all that was left was for your instuctor, Thoma, to sample the dish. You watched in anticipation as he took a section of a hash brown, the crispy outside giving a satisfying 'crunch' upon his bite. He slowly chewed, savouring the flavour as his eyes lit up with surprise.

"It- It tastes amazing!"

"Really?!" You practically squeaked.

"Yeah!" Thoma smiled and handed you a piece to try yourself. He was right. It tasted wonderful.

Your cooking was edible. And it tasted amazing on top of that. You laughed, way happier than you should've been before picking Thoma up by his waist and twirling around the small dining area, causing him to laugh along with you.

To someone on the outside, it would look like the pair of you were getting overexcited over such a little thing, but you were both so proud of your achievement. Maybe you weren't so bad at cooking after all.

#gn reader #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x female reader #genshin x reader #thoma x reader #thoma genshin #genshin thoma #malewife

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trash-gobby · 2 years

Text

Summary: Getting sick of being stuck inside over the summer Steve allows Robin to rope him into hanging out with the gang at the Hawkins Community Pool. There he contends with chaotic yet oddly compelling recent addition to their ever expanding group, Eddie Munson.

A/N: This isn't the edited version so I will be going back later and fixing things after getting back from vacation. So bear with my mistakes and feel free to let me know where I can improve :D

The ending is pretty abrupt, but I probably will edit it once I get back from vacation to add more detail. I just really wanted to get this little fluffy story out there this month while it was still summer. Please let me know what your thoughts are in comments and if you want to see me write more stuff like this in the future! Hope you enjoyed :D

Word Count: 7.7K

Pairing(s): Eddie Munson X Steve Harrington

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Nancy Wheeler, Mike Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Will Byers, Jane "Eleven" Hopper, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Erica Sinclair

Link: Stranger Things

Steve Harrington POV, Robin Buckley POV

⚠️ Warnings!: Very brief and not detailed mentions of bullying

______________________________________________________________

It had been a long summer punctuated by even longer bouts of blistering heat. It felt like the world had turned into one big oven to the town of Hawkins. An oven which was as humid as it was sunburn inducing. Many of the residents were parked either in front of a fan, air conditioning, or under the shade of an umbrella with a tall cool glass of lemonade.

In the wake of this heatwave the most popular option for the young adults, teens, and families of the town was the community pool. It provided at once a perfect social watering hole and at the same time a full proof way to cool off.

Its sparkling chlorine coloured surface was a temptation which couldn’t be resisted by even the most timid of potential swimmers. Kids in bright neon water wings were being helped by their older siblings or parents in their process of learning to swim on their own. Their sunscreen slathered faces plastered with expressions of apprehension or excitement.

The older kids would take turns dunking each other under the water and trying to spray water in each other’s faces while hawklike lifeguards kitted out in their red tank tops and short-shorts. There would be periodic whistle blowing and stern glances when the rowdier of the groups of youths took things a step too far.

The past summer Hawkins community had managed to invest enough money in order to set up a poolside snack bar. There they served all the amenities for the summer season; jumbo hotdogs which you could douse in condiments to your heart's content, all different flavors of soda and juice, buckets full of ice cream that would sell like hot cakes, and even anything you could humanly manage to deep fry. The perfect greasy calorie fillers to gorge upon lying under blankets on the plastic foldout beach chairs before falling into a food coma. Listening to the slapping of feet on the beige concret of the poolside and splashing of swimmers.

Shading his eyes with his hands as he walked out of the changing room, Steve took in all the atmosphere of the bustling community pool. He’d been egged on by Robin to come along with the rest of the gang instead of staying home in his room with the AC turned all the way up. It was a much more pleasant prospect to be out with everyone instead of being stuck staring at the same four off-white walls.

So, here he was. All decked out in maroon short swimming trunks, towel slung over his shoulders lazily, with a pair of raybans to protect his eyes from the penetrating sunlight.

He wanted to kick himself for forgetting to bring a water bottle in his hurry to pick Robin up from her shift at work. The last thing he needed was to buy the overpriced drinks from the snack bar.

Scanning the area Steve noticed some familiar faces by the poolside. Max and El were sitting on the edge of the pool, legs dipped in the cool water chatting away. Their hair partially dry from the chlorinated pool water.

Not far off in the water were three of the other members of their little group. Lucas, Mike and Will were splashing about in the water, playing what looked like a very improvised version of water polo. It seemed like they were trying to find an excuse to nail each other with water rather then scoring any kind of goals.

Steve noticed where they’d made their little camp with their beach towels draped over chairs.

For a moment he hesitated, wondering if perhaps he should wait for Robin who was still in the changing room, but ultimately decided it would be smarter to score some chairs for both of them. From what he could see, there weren’t that many left. The joint was jumping, so he’d better move fast.

There were two that he could see far off on the other side of the pool that he was sure he could handle dragging over to the others on his own.

Taking one last look over to the women’s changing room door on the off-chance that Robin would materialize, Steve sighed and started his way around the large ovular shape of the pool to the unoccupied chairs.

The coarse concrete texture rubbed against his feet as he dodged around a couple of kids who’d decided it was smart to start chasing each other. It was a near miss which ended with one of the lifeguards blowing his whistle aggressively and calling out for them to stop running.

Kids being kids, they simply slowed down to a fast walk and giggled to each other as if the lifeguards warning was a small joke and not a threat which could end with them being kicked out of the pool.

It reminded him of an easier time before the madness and unpredictable events that had unfolded in his senior year. He’d flown through adolescence with an unflappable sense of who he was and what he wanted out of life.

He’d thought he was the picture perfect archetype of the star athlete, the winning golden boy who always gets the girl. And he had gotten the girl, and lost her.

The whole process had thrown him out of his comfortable headspace, causing him to step back and think. Steve was able to consider the kind of person he was, the kind of man he wanted to become. Becoming a surrogate parent to a bunch of tweens was not something he’d expected.

That thought caused to instinctively look back over to the group he’d become too accustomed to over the past three years. He couldn’t have asked for a stranger yet cool group of kids to have ended up babysitting unintentionally. He still hadn’t spotted Dustin, making a mental note to catch up with him when they eventually ran into each other.

Picking up the pace and turning back to face his target of the chairs, Steve found himself colliding with someone.

The person he’d run into jumped back and Steve’s eyes locked onto their own, a deep dark brown glittering with energy.

Immediately Steve felt his stomach flip-flop in a way he couldn’t really explain.

“Jeez Harrington your in a hurry,” Eddie Munson chuckled. He was the most recent addition to their seemingly ever expanding circle of friends. Steve took in his comical hawaiian style shirt which was completely unbuttoned to reveal the pale sunscreen lathered skin underneath and dark swim trunks. Appropriate attire for the environment which they were both in.

Steve found his eyes lingering longer than they should have on the body of the other man, looking away feeling a slight flush of heat reaching his cheeks.

At first Steve had been unsure of how to feel about Eddie, with his wild and unpredictable nature, his eccentricities and charisma that lead him to be targeted by the Hawkins residents. From the wild accusations which were being thrown around, he didn't know what to expect when first meeting the guy.

Knowing that he was one of the people Dustin respected most had made Steve even feel a bit intimidated by him. A part of him still did, but for reasons he felt had changed. It felt silly, there was no reason to feel intimidated or insecure like he did now around someone like Eddie Munson.

“Hey, sorry man I didn’t see you,” breaking eye contact, Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

“I noticed,” there was a pause right after Eddie stated this where in which Steve wrestled to figure out what to say next.

He couldn’t figure out why he always felt tongue-tied around the other man. He hadn’t had this issue with any of the other guys before, he’d always been able to find something to say.

“Yeah, uh, Robin told me you guys were gonna be down here and asked if I wanted to join. And I thought, how could I resist the temptation of seeing Dustin attempt to pass the deep end test.” Ah, yes, Robin. Steve was kicking himself for not seeing this plan sooner.

She’d been giving him sly looks and making comments about him and Eddie since she’d caught on to his often flustered behavior around him. She’d kept inviting him to hang around for what Steve assumed was her own cruel amusement at watching him suffer while Eddie would chat away.

“Right. That makes sense. Umm, I was just getting chairs.” Steve replied, pointing over to the still unoccupied seats just a couple steps away.

Eddie looked over his shoulder, allowing Steve to look back over, finding himself drawn to the comical way in which he'd attempted to apply the sunscreen to his face. There were still clear white streaks around his nose, and some along the area of his chin.

Adorable. He thought to himself, chuckling a little. No he can't say adorable can he? That's weird, right? It's not weird to think Eddie looks adorable. He'd definitely found some of Robin's attempts of flirting with Nancy adorable. So this counts as something like that.

"Something funny?" Eddie was looking at him again, an eyebrow quirked in a slightly bemused manner.

"No, no, just remembered something funny." Steve tried to recover from the awkwardness which he was clearly injecting into this interaction.

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime. However, if you still want to grab those chairs we need to move now. I spot a couple who's about to snatch them up." Eddie was correct. Steve spotted a couple who were beelining it towards the unoccupied seats, swim bags in hand.

"Right, your right," Steve was happy to have a brief reprieve from the awkwardness of the conversation as he and Eddie moved quickly to grab each of the chairs.

They were quite light so he was able to grab one and hold it with one arm no problems. Eddie however had opted for the much stranger and, well.. Eddie-like approach of holding the thing over his head like it was a trophy he'd just won in a sports match.

"What?" He asked, smiling at Steve with one of those wild and engaging smiles of his.

"Aren't your arms going to get tired doing that?" Steve said, pointing to the chair.

"Look, I know these pool noodles I have attached to me don't look like they could lift even ten pounds, but I'm not as weak as you think." He punctuated this by starting to rise the chair up and down as if lifting a weight above his head comically exaggerating the action. Typical.

"Alright man, do you want to get these over where there are some umbrella's. I could use some shade," Steve looked over to an area with an open enough space under some umbrella's. Close enough to the others that he could say hi, but far enough that it didn't look like he was hanging around with a bunch of kids for the whole day.

"Sounds like a plan." Eddie replied before starting alongside Steve on their way over to the empty spot in the shade.

Steve looked at Eddie out of the corner of his eye as they walked side by side in silence. He desperately wanted to find something to talk about, anything to fill the silence.

"Have you seen Dustin? I didn't see him with the others," Steve asked, finally finding something to fill the silence.

"Yeah, he's getting some grub for us, at least I hope he is. The line is kinda slow right now," looking over, Steve spotted the familiar curly head of hair under a baseball cap which marked Dustin out from the crowd of people in line. He was near the front, but it looked like the older man at the front of the line was taking his time to decide what he wanted to pick out.

“Yeah, you might have a bit of a wait. Do you think you're gonna go in for a bit before he gets back? Work up an appetite.” Steve suggested looking over at Eddie. His carefree typical expression faded a little at the edges as Steve asked him this.

“Umm, ha, you see... I’m not that much of a swimmer,” Eddie admitted as they finally reached their shady destination.

“Really? You seemed good enough back when we had to go through that tear in the lake caused by Vecna.” Placing down the chair, Steve sat on the edge looking up at him.

“That was a life or death situation. I think I was just going off of instinct, not really taking in what I was doing,” Eddie placed the other chair alongside Steve's before sitting down.

"I really suck at swimming honestly. I sink like a rock whenever I get into any kind of water. It’s really freaky man. It totally wigs me out." There was a genuine tinge of fear to his voice, as Steve studied the other man's face.

Looking far off as if he is recalling the horrific experiences on that little lake which made him afraid to try diving back into the water again. He had been fiddling with the buttons on his shirt as he explained himself.

"So you came to a pool, to sit in the shade wearing swimwear and not go swimming?" Steve probed further.

"Well, I might hang out in the shallow end, I don't have to actually swim to enjoy the pool," Eddie said begrudgingly to this line of questioning.

"So, you don't want to learn how to swim at all? Just spend your whole time hanging around in the kiddie end of the pool?" chuckling lightly, Steve could see a bit of pinkness starting to spread along Eddie's cheeks. What he didn't expect was what the man would say next.

"Why don't you teach me then Steve? Why don't you show me how to swim?" There was that mischievous grin again, with an edge of challenge in his tone.

Now it was Steve's turn to blush. He could feel his cheeks getting hot slowly. Why was this happening to him? It wasn't like helping a friend out with something like learning to swim was weird. Friends did that all the time for each other right?

Eyes scanning the crowd Steve spotted Dustin making his way over with two large drinks and a tray of fatty foods balanced in his arms. A precarious system in which anything could fall at any second, his face twisted into an expression of deep focus.

This gave Steve something else to focus on as he rose from his seat to help the boy before he dropped everything on the concrete poolside. Hurrying up to him, Steve saw the boy's focus turn to him for a second, cracking a wide grin. "Steve! I wasn't sure you were coming."

"Well, here I am," the older man said, carefully taking the tray from where Dustin had precariously balanced it on his arms. It was jam packed with chili cheese fries and jumbo hot dogs with a very excessive amount of condiments spread on them.

"I don't think you have enough relish," Steve joked, causing Dustin to chuckle slightly as the two of them started to make their way back over to the still seated Eddie.

He was leaning forward with his chin perched on his hand, watching them as they made their way over. He seemed more relaxed now that Dustin was there. The young boy had always been a breath of fresh air, someone who could always keep the status quo between everyone. A peacemaker.

"Here's your coke," Dustin said as he handed Eddie the large glass cola bottle. The condensation of droplets on the surface showing how cool it likely felt in his hand.

The craving to get his own cold drink was starting to overcome him. Looking back over his shoulder at the lineup, he could see that it had only ended up getting longer, with Lucas and Will now also waiting to get something greasy to eat and thirst quenching to drink.

Steve placed the large tray of food between the two deck chairs, making sure to keep it out of where the plastic of the tray would be in direct sunlight. Although Steve was pretty sure it wouldn't melt, considering how cheap and flimsy it was, he didn't want to take his chances.

"So, what have you guys been up to?" Dustin took Steve's seat in one of the deck chairs, leaving him standing before them, sun beaming down hotly on his back.

"Eddie was telling me about how he doesn't know how to swim, and yet he still decided to come to the pool," Steve chuckled before noticing Dustin looking over to Eddie incredulously.

"Eddie ca-" cutting Dustin off mid-sentence, Eddie hopped out of his chair, scraping it loudly against the concrete. "Yeah, Steve-o here is gonna show me the ropes."

Moving to stand next to Steve, he slung one of his around the younger man's shoulders playfully. "He's gonna make sure I keep my head above the water."

"Right..." Looking between the two men, Dustin had an expression of skepticism. Steve would have paid more attention to the way the boy was examining this little exchange if he wasn't already focused on the feel of Eddie's bare arm against the skin of his shoulders and neck.

Warmed by the heat, and smooth against his own skin, Steve could feel the way Eddie's fingers danced over his upper arm, playing a rhythm that only he could hear. All he could do was stand there and feel this, for a moment. It was as if this sudden contact had fried his ability to say anything.

Trying to come up with what to even say next, he saved the trouble. Finally popping out of nowhere, was Robin, clad in a baseball cap which looked like had seen better days and a comfortable one-piece she'd had leftover from when she'd been a part of the Hawkins swim club.

She had the hindsight to actually bring a water bottle with her to keep hydrated along with her towel which was folded under her arm.

"Am I interrupting something? What are you guys talking about?" She seemed amused looking at Steve and Eddie in the way she always did when she saw them together.

"We were just discussing how Eddie can't swim apparently," Dustin said in what sounded to Steve, like a possibly sarcastic tone. But he wasn't sure, for all he knew it was the heat getting to him before he'd gotten the chance to cool off in the water.

"Really. I had no idea you couldn't swim," Robin, looking over to Eddie, her eyebrow quivering in questioning amusement.

"Well, you know, we all have our shortcomings. Anyway Steve and I should get into the water. Isn't that right Steve?" Finally letting go of his shoulders and taking Steve's towel into his arms, throwing it onto his unoccupied seat. Eddie then proceeded to take off the shirt he'd been wearing.

"What about your hotdog man? the buns are gonna get soggy." Dustin asked. At this Eddie walked over, placed the shirt on the chair and picked up Steve assumed to be his hotdog, taking a massive bite before placing it back down in the little paper holder it had been in.

"Shee, I hag hawth," the older man stated while fighting to chew the large dog he'd just about horked down half of. It would have been impressive if it didn't look so gross with his open-mouth chewing.

"Charming," Robin placed her towel on the same chair Eddie had thrown his before sitting down and stealing one of the fries from its carton.

"Show, awh we gonna do his or nawt," Eddie turned to Steve. The corners of his mouth smeared with a ketchup, mustard and relish combo.

"What? I can't understand what you're saying," Steve chuckled at this odd display. The other man held up a finger as if to tell him to wait a moment while he took his time to finish chewing.

"What I was trying to say was, are we gonna do this thing?" He said after swallowing the last bit of dog down.

It was quite the display, but somehow Eddie made quick work of it. Steve was concerned that perhaps he would end up giving himself a stomach ache before they'd even done any real swimming. "I guess. Let's start in the shallow end and practice there."

“Great! Let’s do it.” Bringing his hand down heavily on Steve’s shoulder, Eddie guided him along to one of the pool ladders.

First down the ladder Steve lowered himself quickly in order to adjust to the sudden cool water. Goosebumps rising on his skin, and a shiver running up his spine, he lowered his head and plugged his nose before ducking under the water in order to adjust to the temperature.

It was cold as it always was in the Hawkins Community pool, but in this heat wave it was a godsend. It also worked well to clear Steve’s head. He was really doing this. Spending time with Eddie one-on-one, teaching him to swim. It made his stomach flip in a way he hadn’t felt since he’d snuck into Nancy’s room at night to study with her a couple years back.

God why was he like this? Where was this coming from? He’d never felt this way about anyone but Nancy, and wasn’t it weird this feeling was coming up around another guy he’d only just started noticing the existence of this last year? Wasn’t it weird these feelings were for a guy at all?

He didn’t want to think about it. Thinking about feelings, especially the ones he was feeling for Eddie right now, made his head spin round and round.

Surfacing back into the bright sunlight he released the air he’d been holding, lazily treading water. Opening his eyes, Steve had to blink away the slight sting of chlorinated water that had gotten in his eyes. Looking back up to where he’d just been on land, he could see the sun outlining the body of the other man.

Framed by the light, Eddie’s skin shone bright. Steve could see from the slim curve of his waist, up the soft skin of his abdomen to his mostly bare chest, all the way to his smiling face. It was the kind of pale color which would cook in this weather, the kind which barely saw the light of day buried under a leather jacket, jeans and various metal band t-shirts. Even the way in which his hair, curly and dark accented by everything else about his body, stood out made Steve feel like he was looking up at something, someone otherworldly.

Making his way gingerly down the ladder, Eddie tested the temperature with his foot, flinching back away from it when he finally registered the coolness of the surface.

“Dude it’s freezing,” he whined comically, causing Steve to bark out a laugh that was one part humorous and another part packed with the anxiety of seeing the other man shirtless. “Don’t be a baby, just slide in quickly and you’ll adjust to it.”

“That’s what they all say,” this retort came as the metalhead once again tried to lower himself slowly, succeeding this time in getting one leg fully in before and wincing at the cold in a way which felt way too exaggerated for the situation at hand.

Sighing, Steve swam slowly up in front of the ladder, holding up his hand to Eddie, who looked down at it skeptically before making eye contact directly with the other man. “Take my hand, I’ll help you in.”

“Why does this feel like a trap?”

“What do you think I’m gonna do Eddie, drown you? In broad daylight? With children watching? And lifeguards?” Placing the hand he wasn’t using to keep balance on the ladder on his hip, Eddie quirked a brow looking down at Steve, but still seemed reluctant to take his outstretched hand in front of him. “I don’t pretend to know what’s going on in that devious mind of yours Steve Harrington.”

“Devious,” Steve put on a face of mock-affront. “The only devious person here is you, the amount of shit you get up to. Besides, if I had wanted to drown you, I would have done it back at the lake when we went through to the Upsidedown.”

“Touch��, but I still am not convinced this isn’t a trap.”

“Just give me your hand,” Slowly Eddie reached out and took Steve’s hand in his, still keeping free hand wrapped tightly around the plastic handle of the ladder. “Okay, now reach out and take my other hand. I’ll help you in.”

Tilting his head to the side, Eddie gave Steve a look that clearly communicated, I-hate-this-and-yet-you-are-making-me-do-it-anyway, before finally releasing his other hand from the ladder and reaching for Steve.

However, as he was about to grab onto his other hand, Eddie seemed to trip over himself, legs twisting.

As he fell, his free hand shot out quickly to the other man’s shoulder, placing his body weight on Steve. This caused them both to fall backwards into the water, droplets splashing as they both flailed in order to keep balance.

Neither of them were hurt and that’s what mattered. Eddie was in the water, his finger digging into the skin of Steve’s shoulder, his other hand clasping hard onto his. He was so close, basically in the other man's arms. Their eyes were both locked on each other, the intensity making that heat from earlier rise up to Steve’s cheeks.

“Are you okay?” his voice cracked and he wanted to hit himself for how nervous and silly he sounded.

“Better now… that I’m in the water,” the metalhead replied, shaking his damp hair slightly to knock some strands from his face. His eyes felt probing, looking for something in Steve’s face, causing him to smile in response.

It felt natural to him, like smiling was easier than letting things feel awkward or getting annoyed at the whole situation. If he thought about it, smiling at Eddie Munson after such a display or ridiculousness was the most natural thing in the world, and clearly the other man felt the same.

“What are you smiling at?” The statement would have seemed more aggressive if he wasn’t already clearly cracking a smile of his own, returning the one Steve had on his face.

“You’re just a drama queen Eddie,” they both chuckled at this. “A clumsy drama queen.”

Eddie adjusted, placing his feet on the bottom of the shallow end, nudging Steve in the process for his little comment. “Me, the drama queen?! If I’m the drama queen then you're the drama emperor.”

“Ha-ha, sure," rolling his eyes, goofy smile still on his face, Steve felt Eddie let go of his shoulder.

The strange feelings which Eddie’s touch brought were missed as soon as his hand was absent from the other man’s shoulder. Those fingers. Calloused from plucking and strumming his guitar strings. Knuckles scarred from the battle he had with those bat demons in the Upsidedown.

They were the hands of someone who was a dreamer, filled with stories in each whirl on his finger pad, and each line in his palm; and from what Dustin had told Steve, a fighter. Someone who would stand up against impossible odds, like battling a million bat demons to save people who mattered to him. Fighting for a town of people who never saw him as anything more than a menace.

Steve tried not to look down to where the water was distorting with ripples, Eddie's lower abdomen. There were the only blemishes to his otherwise unmarked torso. Those were the deep scars where those batlike creatures had bit, stabbed and slashed at his flesh when he’d faced them one-on-one.

That idiot, I told him not to be a hero. But at least Eddie was alive. Steve was thankful that he’d gotten back in one piece with his life. Being able to hug his uncle who had thought he was dead in the “earthquake” which had rocked the town, and clear his name so that the police and town would stop hounding him.

It wasn’t perfect. People still stared at them all on the street, whispered about their group when they thought no one could hear. Even DnD had been banned from Hawkins Middle and High school. Residual effects of the witch-hunt and panic.

“Earth to Steve, you gonna let me go anytime soon,” the singsong tone of Eddie’s bemused voice broke through his thoughts like a shard of glass.

“What?” Steve hadn’t even realized he was still holding onto Eddie’s other hand which he had taken initially.

Jesus, he’d completely forgotten about that. He was so distracted by all the other things which were going through his head. Letting go of Eddie’s hand, Steve shifted back to create a comfortable space between them.

“Sorry, umm, uh, right,” clearing his throat, shifting around nervously and trying to look anywhere but into the eyes of the other man, Steve tried to compose himself. He hoped Eddie couldn’t tell how flushed his face was becoming, from a slight pink to now probably a very visible red.

God he could tell Eddie was staring at him, waiting patiently for him to get his shit together enough to actually start doing anything. “Well, umm, we should probably start with getting your feet off the bottom of the pool and figure out your form.”

“Alright, how do we do that?” Steve assessed Eddie for a moment as he asked his question, trying to get his mind away from all the other things running through it.

“How do you feel about having your head underwater?” Steve hoped that he didn’t mind, it would be easier that way. Dealing with someone who’s anxiety extended to being under the water would make the process of teaching a challenge.

“I don’t mind as long as I can see the bottom. I like knowing there is a bottom.” Eddie began, pointing to the deep end. “Even there it’s not so bad because you can see through all the chlorine to the bottom. In the lake it just feels like it goes on forever. Even in the day it’s too dark and murky to see anything for sure. It feels like something could reach up and grab you. And don’t get me started on the plants growing at the bottom and how they brush against your feet.”

Shuddering at his own words, it was obvious Eddie’s displeasure with the environment of the lake he’d lived alongside a couple of months prior. The fact that he’d been so scared to sail out on it to escape the jocks hunting him and later dive to the bottom in order to follow Nancy and Robin to save him, made Steve appreciate the other man more. He may call himself a coward, not a hero. Someone who would run away from danger, but not when he’d swum to the bottom of that lake, not when he’d gone through the gash at the bottom into another unknown and equally terrifying world.

“Alright, that helps. Let’s get your head wet and do some work with those arms and legs.”

______________________________________________________________

It was amusing, the perfect setup even. Watching the two boys in the water brought a smile to Robin’s face. She’d been pushing for them to do something like this, and now they were. Spending that one-on-one time which would make Steve finally wake up and smell the cute-metal-head-coffee. It was clear to anyone with common sense that Eddie was into Steve, and Steve in return oblivious to this was definitely also into him. As much as he didn’t want to admit it to Robin or himself.

Here he was now helping Eddie learn to get his feet off the bottom of the semi-shallow floor, circling them in a way to keep him above water without touching the bottom. Steve was earnest in his attempts to help, moving around Eddie and explaining the way to move while adjusting his arm movements for treading water.

Robin was no genius, she’d never claimed to be, but she wasn’t buying the whole Eddie-Munson-can’t-swim-for-shit persona he was putting on. It had to be an act, and of course gullible Steve would totally fall for it. With all those mixed emotions how couldn’t he. It was a way for them to be close, giving Steve an excuse to be a helper, another hero role stopping the poor other guy from drowning in the future.

She chuckled, impressed with this clear display of smarts on Eddie’s part as she leaned back on the deck chair with a couple of fries she’d snatched from Dustin’s tray table of food. To any outsider she’d have looked like one of those large orange cats sitting plumply satisfied after a meal in the shade.

“What are you so happy about?” She was taken out of her little fun observations by the voice of the one person who could change Robin’s mood with the snap of her well-manicured fingers.

A few steps away in a buttercup yellow sundress, which although understated was still lovely on her, Nancy stood, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her hair was swept up into a messy updo, allowing a few strands of her permed hair to escape, framing her face. Robin took this in gulping down the food she’d been chewing, feeling that sensation of self-consciousness take over.

“Fry?” She asked, quickly bending down and picking up the cardboard fry box and offering it to Nancy.

“Thanks,” Nancy looked at her with one of those quizzical yet bemused expressions she usually gave Robin whenever she did something strange. Or at least something which maybe to an outsider would seem strange. The little idiosyncrasies, ticks and trappings of who Robin was had started to grow on Nancy, or at least she hoped they did. It was sometimes hard to tell if that was true.

“You see something interesting?” Nancy asked, looking around before her eyes settled on the two men in the pool, Eddie flailing and Steve being splashed in the face with water while trying to avoid getting slapped in the face.

“Ah, I see. That.” Her face cracked into an even wider grin, one that lit up her face in a way that made Robin yearn to have her look at her that way. She did sometimes, but not enough. Was asking for that to be always too much? “What the heck are they doing?”

“Well, Steve is teaching Eddie how to swim. Obviously.” Robin quipped.

“It looks more like Steve is trying to drown him.” Nancy wasn’t wrong. From what Robin could see, Steve was poorly attempting and failing to show Eddie how to correctly perform what was either a front crawl or the doggy paddle. He was supporting him while the man tried to get his bearings in order for the other man to move his arms and kick his legs in tandem. Instead the display made it look like Steve may be attempting to push Eddie under and be done with this little charade.

If only she’d had a camera, then Robin could capture this moment in order to shove it in both their faces later. Although only Steve would be truly embarrassed, Eddie would probably want a copy framed.

Walking around the chairs, Nancy joined the other woman sitting on the end of her deck chair. Robin stiffened at the closeness and the way each other's shoulders were touching, the frilly strap of the sundress against her bare shoulder.

The smell of her shampoo was not one of those overpowering artificial floral scents, it was more like a minty cucumber. Something organic and fresh that matched the weather and the tone. Robin stored it away in her mind, something she was sure would pop up again in one of those daydreams which would barge into her head uninvited. “I didn’t know you were a part of the swim club.”

Robin was brought out of her pining by this little declaration, noticing Nancy’s eyes looking down to her suit. She felt a bit of color come to her cheeks considering that the other woman had been checking her out in order to notice such a detail. “You noticed that little detail. It was a short-lived venture.”

“Really? How so?” The thoughts of how the past had shaped her experience, Robin wasn’t sure she wanted to get into the details. The rumors and the whispers of the other girls, the way they looked at her like she didn’t belong. How honest did she really want to be about those details?

“It just wasn’t a good fit. Sometimes you're just not cut out to be a jock. I just fit much better as the art club kid.” It felt honest enough without giving too much away. It wasn’t like it mattered. All the things which had bothered Robin were in the past. Those girls had gone on to College, University or at least off somewhere else.

“I guess we all figure out what we’re really into with time and searching.” Nancy caught Robin’s gaze and held it for a moment, smiling. There was more than one meaning to this little statement, at least it felt that way Robin saw it.

“Well, I hope we both find what we’re looking for soon,” Robin smiled, offering the other woman a fry from the box which she took gratefully.

“I don’t think we’ll need to worry about looking long.” And there it was. One of those smiles which Robin had been hoping would be directed at her. This one was just for her this time.

______________________________________________________________

“Stop doing that! AGH!” Steve dodged out of the way once again, the sting of chlorine causing him to flinch and lose his balance.

Moving from his flailing bizarre position Eddie started treading water messily, spraying water around. They had created their own little space in the pool where most other swimmers didn’t even want to attempt going. At least most had been understanding about the fact that Eddie was learning and sucked at taking instructions. It was like teaching an elephant how to walk a tight-rope. Impossible.

His long hair soaked and sticking to his face, Eddie shook his head like a dog spraying even more water in Steve’s direction causing him to shield his eyes. “How’m I doing?”

“Do you even listen to anything I’m saying or do you just take everything I say as a suggestion instead of an instruction?” Steve kept his tone somewhat light, but it was clear from his expression he was annoyed. Eddie only saw this as something amusing. The more annoyed he got, the more worked up, the less seriously he seemed to be taking this little makeshift crash course.

“You know, I was considering it more like an interpretive statement then something to be followed,” It was such a silly nonsensical thing to say that Steve merely sighed, standing nearly chest deep in the deeper part of the shallow end.

Moving suddenly, Eddie moved smoothly from his messy treading to a front crawl, that while not perfect was clearly better then Steve had expected. He was shocked by this, as the other man made his way up to him, grabbing his shoulders for purchase in order to come up into a standing position. “ See, it’s not like I didn’t pick something up that you were showing me.”

“That was… Way too good to be the first time you’ve tried that.”

“Maybe I just have a good teacher.” Steve’s feeling of skepticism was growing. The expression of mischievous grin plastered on Eddie’s face felt oddly telling.

That’s when it finally started to sink. He felt like a moron. A completely gullible idiot. How could he not have seen the signs in Eddie’s form, the way he told the story about diving into the lake. If he’d been dumped into that lake while being chased, how had he gotten out of the water? Eddie had to swim since he hadn’t used the boat to get back to shore. He had to swim in order to make it to the bottom of that lake.

“You asshole.” He said, face burning with embarrassment.

“What?” Eddie was holding back laughter now, watching the realization having passed over Steve’s expression.

“I’m going to drown you if it’s the last thing I do,” he said, pushing the other boy into the water, watching Eddie laughing hard as he hit the water and swam backwards away.

“What Harrington? I thought you’d be happy seeing me finally figuring the front crawl out.” His words were clearly sarcastic and his eyes glittered with mirth.

“You completely wasted my time, I can’t get those thirty minutes back you know.” Steve yelled before, splashing a wave of water in the direction of Eddie’s stupid grinning face. The mischevious metalhead ducked under the water, disappearing briefly from view under the disturbed water before it registered he was heading in the other man’s direction.

Quickly Steve was yanked down under the water, not rough enough to have really made him get pulled under. He let himself be pulled. He was gonna get Eddie back. He would.

Adjusting to the sting of the chlorine, blinking his eyes against the new atmosphere, he was finally able to make out before him the situation he was now in. It was oddly peaceful under the water. A contrast to the wild and active world above. Everything felt like it was floating in slow motion, shimmering with the refracted light of the sun piercing down around them both.

Eddie’s hands were gripped loosely to Steve’s wrists now. Looking up, he locked his gaze with the man, and felt his heart stutter. His hair hung in the water, floating around him and framing it perfectly. He looked like what Steve imagined a merman who’d come from the deep to tempt sailors into the deep would look.

His expression was even more shocking, making Steve realize just what he was feeling in that moment. What he’d been feeling about Eddie since he’d finally gotten to know him. The look was piercing, a small smile, more soft than his other more cutting comedic expressions, eyes exploring his face for something he hoped would be returned.

Moving slowly, with more apprehension and anxiety than he’d ever experienced with any of the girls and women he’d ever had feelings for, Steve reached his hand out of Eddie’s grip. Letting his fingers linger in the water close to Eddie’s face, he wasn’t sure if what he was doing was right, but he was already committed, already halfway there and entranced. Gently, he ran his fingers over the soft skin of Eddie’s cheek, down the line of his jaw before breaking contact.

It was such a small intimacy, but significant. It was opening a door which couldn’t be closed, crossing a line which couldn’t be backed behind again. A dare, a risk, Steve was willing to take.

Strange that such a small thing can have so much meaning behind it. A little gesture which can ignite a whole new world. He could see it in Eddie’s eyes. The initial shock at his touch was written on the man's face. Steve tensed for a moment, expecting something like disgust to follow this. That Eddie would pull away, tell him he wasn’t into him like that.

However, that’s not what happened. Not at all.

Instead, he leaned in, and under the cover of the bottom of the deeper end of the shallows, Eddie kissed Steve. It was a private intimate moment, a perfect second where what they had both been thinking about one another had been confirmed.

His lips were soft, softer than what Steve would have thought. His shock was eclipsed by the sensation, and his desire that this moment would never end. He had really wanted this, more than he could have ever expected, more than he’d wanted it with anyone else he was shocked to realize. Eventually though, they would both have to come up for air.

Pulling back, Eddie’s hair brushed gently against Steve’s cheeks, their faces inches from one another. It was like they were looking to be sure that what had just happened was something they’d both wanted, and from the clear expressions of exhilaration on their faces, it was clear that this had been mutual.

Moments later, they broke the surface, treading water lazily only a couple inches from one another. Beads of water ran down their flushed faces. They both looked at each other unsure what to say or if there was anything they could, which would feel appropriate in that moment.

It had felt to Steve like hours had passed in that moment. He hadn’t wanted it to end, let time just freeze there forever, where it had felt so warm, so right.

“Wow,” Eddie breathed out the words more than said them. His expression reminded Steve of someone who’d been told he had won the lottery and then some. An expression of pure happiness. He was sure his expression mirrored the same. “I mean wow… I wasn’t sure at first you even liked me at all.”

His expression was self-conscious, genuine in Steve’s eyes, and he supposed he understood why. Eddie-The-Freak-Munson was not the nickname of someone who had gotten much luck with intimacies, especially those of someone like Steve. He’d been a golden boy and Eddie had been the opposite.. Ostracized.

“I guess I’m more nuanced than you thought.” Steve joked.

“I always thought there was something going on in that head of yours. I just didn’t know it involved me,” Eddie responded, wiggling his eyebrows comically. In response Steve gave him a playful shove. “Don’t think I’m still not gonna get you back for wasting my time.”

“I can’t wait. If you still want to drown me, we should take this party to the lake sometime.” The suggestion was definitely an offer for a date. Though Eddie said it playfully, in the jocular manner he often said things like this. Steve knew this time it would be a date. Just the two of them, and for once he was gonna take him up on the offer.

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tcookies777 · 1 year

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I’ve been reading your posts and reblogs.

Are you okay?

I'm getting flooded with Asks and messages atm so I'm sorry to say that I don't know when you submitted this Ask!

If by okay, you mean the reblogs from yesterday - I'm pretty fine actually. I'm at that age now where you kind of... to be blunt, don't give a fuck because you learn not to take the words of strangers to heart.

The reason why I still do speak up for myself though (instead of staying quiet) is because I want to nip these conflicts and issues in the bud even if it means being strict. I don't want the problem to grow out of hand. I've been writing for over 10 years now and this is not my first rodeo.

With my 1st rodeo though, I was that young and naive writer who stayed quiet. I tried to please every single reader. I bowed down and apologized to the readers who complained I wasn't updating fast enough. I begged for patience and forgiveness whenever I had to put the fic on hiatus. I tried to fulfill every request and demand that every reader threw at me.

And the abuse and entitlement grew. Because I was stupid enough to feed it. Because I had wanted to keep everyone pleased 24/7. I didn't want to piss anyone off and I was afraid of losing readers. And when I decided to put my foot down because I couldn't handle being treated like I was less than human, I was harassed for it. And when I fought back against the harassment, I was portrayed as the villain.

"People are going to say negative things about your story anyway, and if you can't handle that then you shouldn't write. You do that, or you shut up and write," a reader had once told me.

And because I was young and stupid, I believed her.

And that belief became my principle in real life.

And one day, when I was in school, I saw a boy getting bullied. The bullies were throwing milk and condiments to stain his clothes, and the boy looked unhappy but remained silent. It was 1 against 3, after all. And I watched the bullying happening literally 3 feet away in front of me, and even though I wanted to step in and speak up for that boy, all I could think of was that reader's words. All I could think of was: People are going to bully others regardless, and if the victim can't handle it then they're weak.

So I stayed quiet.

Around that time, I was reading a fic and I noticed a writer was being harassed. Readers were demanding quicker updates, they were demanding that she reveal her sexual orientation, they spread rumors that she was lying about her ethnicity, they were ""criticizing" her story when actually they were just trying to manipulate her into writing the story they want, they were complaining about the plot when actually they just had a gross misunderstanding of the story's direction, etc etc. Literally, none of the criticism she received was actual, genuine criticism. It was just insults and pointless complaints with the "criticism" label slapped on top. Some readers even befriended her but only because they wanted to have her write a fic for them (they thought a friendship with her would give them an advantage).

She tried to appease them at first. Tried to laugh off their snide remarks and respond to their disrespect with kindness.

And because she stayed quiet against the abuse and entitlement, these readers figured they could keep it up. So they continued, and her mental health deteriorated until one day that writer snapped and quit the fic and quit writing for good.

And the whole time I watched this drama unfold as one of her readers, I never spoke up for her. Just as I never spoke up for that kid who was being bullied.

It's been 10 years since then. To this day, I deeply regret not speaking up for those people. I deeply regret being too afraid of conflict. I deeply regret being a bystander back then.

But a few years ago, an older writer enlightened me with some advice. He said, "Yes, there will always be people who are going to be jackasses to you. It's the Internet, duh! But that doesn't mean you need to put up with that shit. The reader has the power to curate their fanfic reading experience... and so does the writer too. "

And that was the moment I realized I am sick of being a bystander. I am sick of staying quiet. I am sick of enabling people and/or trying to please them all the time. I am sick of bending over backwards out of fear of disappointment or conflict.

That was the moment I decided I am going to speak up from now on. I will not tolerate this any longer.

So yes, I am fine for the most part. Many of you guys have been incredibly kind and supportive. But I will continue to stand my ground when I need to and if I need to be harsh when doing it then so be it. I've seen firsthand how being too kind and a people pleaser all the time sometimes just welcomes more abuse, more insults, more entitlement. Because it's from behind the screen, some people don't care that the fanfic writer providing them free entertainment is a real human being.

#cookie answers #a cookie for me

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sarah-yyy · 4 years

Text

sometimes i remember that some of y’all have never tasted lao gan ma in your entire lives and i feel bad for y’all

#honestly who was i before lao gan ma #who would i be without lao gan ma #have y'all tried the one with the mushrooms in it????? mind blowing #all other condiments please take a step back #sarah talks about herself #lgm adventures

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emeraldenha · 2 years

Text

✎ SUMMARY. both you and Jake Sim have one thing in common and that is being best friends with an ‘it couple’ on campus. after properly getting to know each other at a new year’s eve party, you think seeing his face one too many times the following weeks could all be a coincidental fate. what you soon realize is that fate comes in the form of your two friend groups who want nothing more than the two of you to start dating.

✎ PAIRING. awkward nerd!jake x fem!reader (sunghoon x yeji & jay x ryujin)

✎ FEATURING. enhypen’s 02z line, itzy

✎ GENRE. university au, fluff, strangers to lovers

✎ WARNINGS. cursing, alcohol consumption, all pairings between itzy and enhypen members are purely used for plot convenience

✎ W/C. +6.4k words

✎ ADDITIONAL NOTE. this is part of the Nuevo Comienzo (new beginnings) collab created by dulceamar! please consider checking out all the other amazing works by other authors throughout the year!

the first encounter.

“order for y/n!” the barista shouts, calling out another order soon after.

sending a text to a group chat with your best friends, agreeing to meet them at the cafeteria of your university for lunch, you walk up to the counter and grab the only cup of coffee you find sitting there.

ryujin: bro when will you get your ass over here

you: sorry there was a long line for coffee :(

you: I’ll be there in two seconds just wait a bit

you go to exit the cafe but feel a light tap on your shoulder.

“hi,” the boy smiles awkwardly. “I think I accidentally took your coffee, you should have mine as well.”

“oh, really?” taking a glance at the paper cup, you notice the scribble of someone else’s name right on the side. you squint trying to decipher the letters written in thick sharpie. “jack?”

“jake, actually,” he politely corrects you. “sorry about this whole thing. I also kinda took a sip before I realized it wasn’t my order. I can uhh get you a new lid if you’d like.”

you nod slowly, “sure.”

you follow his lead as he backtracks to the opposite corner of the cafe.

“is it weird to say you look familiar?” jake says in an attempt to keep the conversation going. “I swear, I've seen you around before.”

“you go to belift university, right?” you ask for confirmation and receive a nod from him in response. “we go to the same college then. maybe you've seen me passing by.”

his face contorts into confusion as he starts eyeing you suspiciously, “how’d you know I go to belift?”

“your sweatshirt,” you point at the glaringly large font across his chest.

“ah, right!” heat crawls up jake’s cheeks as he blushes in embarrassment. he grabs a lid from the condiment bar, and with shaky hands, replaces the original one with it. “forgot I was wearing this shirt. I mean belift. wait, what? I mean my sweatshirt. fuck, I almost knocked over your coffee. but yeah, my belift sweatshirt… you probably knew what I meant. sorry, I’ll shut up now.”

“cute,” you mutter under your breath, lip twitching into a smile.

“huh?”

“what?” you cough, feigning cluelessness. you point at your coffee cup still in his hand to quickly change the topic. “can I have my coffee back now?”

“yeah, of course,” jake says with confusion still evident in his expression.

“thanks.”

“no problem.”

the two of you head towards the exit and you thank him as he opens the door for you.

jake stops walking once you both are outside and no longer blocking the entrance of the cafe, which makes you second guess if that means you should stop too. playing it safe, you slow down your steps until jake addresses you again.

“most people have gone home early,” jake starts. “but I’m assuming you must’ve had a final today if you’re still in the area.”

your eyes anxiously wonder around.

you’re five minutes late to when you were supposed to be meeting your friends at the cafeteria, but they can wait.

“yeah, I still haven’t actually taken it yet,” you inform him.

“ah, I just finished mine this morning,” jake replies.

“must be nice to be free then,” you say half-jokingly.

“definitely,” he lets out a quick laugh. “well, I hope you ace your last exam. good luck!”

he holds out his fist in your direction.

you stare at his fist for a moment before shyly curling your hand to meet him in a fist bump, “thanks. good luck to you too!”

he waves you goodbye and you briefly mimic his actions before parting ways.

“shit,” jake curses under his breath as he continues walking in the opposite direction from yours, looking over his shoulder to see you already crossing the street. “I should have asked for her number.”

“I got your lunch,” ryujin pushes a tray of food towards you.

“you’re the best,” you breathe out, taking a seat across from your two best friends. “someone accidentally mistook my coffee for their’s while I was at the cafe nearby. that’s why I’m running a little more behind than I already was today.”

“eat quickly,” jay advises. “your exam is in thirty minutes, right?”

“yeah,” you confirm, taking your silverware and digging into your food.

“ew, slow down and take a napkin,” ryujin thrusts a wad of napkins into your hand. “you won’t attract anyone being this gross.”

“good, that means my plan to cosplay as men repellent is working.”

despite your sarcastic remark, you peel a napkin from the stack and wipe your month.

ryujin watches you and shakes her head, “you could be really good girlfriend material if you put your mind to it, just saying.”

“says the ‘it couple’ on campus,” you say, rolling your eyes.

ryujin scoffs, “we’re not the ‘it couple’ on campus.”

“oh, we so are,” jay confidently boasts, running a hand through his silky blonde hair.

“you’re so right, babe,” ryujin immediately switches in agreement, pressing a kiss to his cheek before leaning on the back of her chair where his arm is casually resting.

you pretend to gag, “throwing up in my mouth right now.”

“aren’t you even just a little bit curious about putting yourself out there?” ryujin asks, refusing to give up. “I could totally set you up with someone. you’re talking to the local matchmaker right here.”

“matchmaker my ass,” you laugh. “as if I’d put my love life in your hands, ryujin. but really, I’m just not interested in anyone at the moment.”

“the moment? the moment has been your whole life!” ryujin whines, her eyes so wide they could practically fall out of her eye sockets.

“ryu,” jay warns, moving his hand to squeeze her shoulder. “give y/n a break. if she’s not looking to go on a date, then she’s not going on one.”

“you talk like my dad,” you deadpan.

“I’m defending you and you still choose to insult me like this?” jay purses his lips, going back to scrolling through his phone while he snacks on a bag of chips.

“okay, no dating for y/n in the near future. got it!” ryujin animatedly summarizes. “but are you at least coming to hoon’s new year’s eve party with us?”

you furrow your eyebrows, “hoon?”

“sunghoon,” ryujin says in an obvious tone, giving you an incredulous look at the lack of recognition written across your face. “come on, park sunghoon! jay’s friend, park sunghoon. he’s dating hwang yeji.”

“am I supposed to know people through their couple status or something?” your voices drips with your usual sarcasm. “and jay has a lot of friends.”

“he was the one that treated us out on your birthday that one time,” jay adds, glancing up from his phone.

“oh, that guy!” you clap your hands together as you recall the brief memory. “yeah, he was nice.”

“so you’ll come?” ryujin looks at you with pleading eyes. “new year, new you.”

“don’t tell me you actually believe in that crap.”

“just give me an answer.”

“why so eager,” you let out a dry laugh. “do you need me to be the designated driver again or something?”

“you make us sound like asshole friends,” ryujin pouts. “and no, we just haven’t hung out much because you’ve been so busy over the semester. I want us to have fun together over winter break.”

“yeah, no pressure if you don’t want to go though,” jay says. “but if you’re coming, we’ll probably crash at sunghoon’s, so you can drink and crash there too or drive home if you’re bored.”

“okay, fine. I’ll see you guys there. new year, new me or whatever,” you cave. “but next time I want to do something, you can’t say no.”

ryujin smirks, jokingly grabbing your hand to give it a loose shake, “we have ourselves a deal.”

“now that you got that out of the way, you got ten minutes to book yourself to your class for exams,” jay casually reminds you.

“oh shit,” you hiss. you grab your tray and the remaining trash lying around as you get ready to leave. “bye guys!”

“bye, y/n!”

“see you later, love!”

“why don’t you ever call me love?”

“shut up, jongseong.”

as you rush out of the cafeteria, you pass by the famous park sunghoon you had been talking about earlier, almost crashing into him and apologizing for the near-incident with a quick ‘sorry.’ neither of you even have time to recognize each other as you continue speed walking away before the chance is offered.

“woah, you okay, hoonie?” yeji asks after watching sunghoon flinch from how you had almost crashed into him.

“I’m fine,” he brushes it off and sits down at their table.

he glances up from setting his food down to acknowledge jake, then decides to skip the greeting once he sees what the boy is doing.

“why do you have your physics textbook out?” sunghoon makes a disgusted face. “I thought you finished your finals already.”

“oh, I did,” jake clarifies. “but I’m reading some of the unassigned chapters from this semester. did you know that—”

“okay, you can stop right there!” sunghoon says while putting a hand up. “don’t need to know whatever wackass concept you’re going to ramble on about next.”

jake makes a blank face, internally thinking about how he should’ve seen that coming, “rude.”

“you’re always studying physics,” sunghoon whines. “get a hobby, loser. you’ll never get a girlfriend at this rate if you’re already in married to your physics textbook.”

“lay off him for once, will you? nerds have rights too,” yeji jokes with a lazy grin tugging her lips.

“very funny, yeji,” jake bites back sarcastically. he begins to pout as he picks at his food. “what’s wrong with being a nerd?”

“what’s wrong is that nerds like you,” sunghoon points his fork in jake’s direction. “have zero game.”

“what are you talking about?” jake says in an offended tone. “I got game.”

sunghoon raises an eyebrow, “oh, do you now?”

“yeah,” jake states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. “I'm totally the ideal guy.”

“then go ask somebody out,” sunghoon cooly challenges him.

“you mean,” jake pauses, scratching the back of his head. “like right now?”

jake suddenly feels lightheaded. the thing about jake was that he was a easily likable person. he was kind, smart, and bursting with positive energy. his downside was that even though he had book smarts, it left him oblivious to the common sense of courage and confidence.

“why not?” sunghoon shrugs. “you sound so sure of yourself anyways.”

“okay,” jake bites his lip and rubs his hands together. “I got this.”

he stands from his seat at the table, taking a couple of deep breaths before searching for someone to be his target and taking off.

“wait,” yeji whispers to sunghoon. “he's actually doing this?”

“apparently.”

“and we're not going to stop him?”

sunghoon chuckles, “hell no.”

“hey, lia!” jake approaches the girl and her friend.

“oh,” lia makes eye contact with chaeryeong before forcing a smile at the boy. “what's up, jake?”

“you. me. new year’s eye party at sunghoon’s. be my date?”

“sorry, jake,” lia rejects. “I uhh... already have plans with my family.”

“ah, I see,” jake wants nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never come back up to reality. “maybe some other time then?”

“umm…”

“you know what? nevermind. sorry to bother you. and if I also made you uncomfortable, I apologize for that too—”

“jake,” lia interrupts with a tense smile. “it’s okay.”

“yeah. good. cool.”

jake turns on his heel and rigidly walks away, every ounce of his self esteem and social battery drained.

he can hear chaeryeong clicking her tongue, “that was awkward.”

jake agonizingly makes his way back to sunghoon and yeji, holding up a middle finger once he catches sunghoon’s chest vibrating at his attempt to suppress his laughter.

it was sad that the conversation was out of earshot for his friends, but they could already tell how it went.

jake returns to his seat and closes his eyes as he heaves a deep sigh.

“okay, so maybe I don't got game.”

the second encounter.

it had been around two weeks since the start of winter break and you were trying not to hate the idea of this new year’s eve party so much, but it wasn’t the most exciting thing you’d rather do when you genuinely weren’t a big fan of alcohol or people in general. you actually wished you were a fan of both of those things so it could make a night like this more enjoyable.

“remind me why we’re showing up an hour late to this party again?” you ask, slouching in the backseat of jay’s car.

“ever heard of being fashionably late?” he retorts while finding a space to park.

you snort, “you’re so lame, jay.”

“rip him to shreds, baby,” ryujin playfully blows you a kiss from the passenger seat.

you pretend to catch the kiss and shoot her a wink, “always, baby.”

“hey, I’m the boyfriend here!” jay says, a reoccurring joke that happens between the three of you.

“and I’m the side piece, your point is?” you speak without missing a single beat.

stepping onto the front lawn of sunghoon’s house, the party at least looked somewhat less unhinged than the other one’s jay and ryujin had dragged you to a couple times before. yes, you could hear the blasting music from the outside. and yes, you could hear people shouting and cheering from the backyard as the sound of someone cannonballing into the pool followed. but for the most part, it just looked like a normal house with festive decorations peeking from the windows that indicated this was indeed a chill new year’s eve party.

it had been long enough that you’ve forgotten what park sunghoon even looks like, but he gave you the impression of a very clean-cut guy, given your judgements on how good he was as a party host.

it was like a formal celebration to new beginnings, only with a bunch of unsupervised college students and alcohol.

“ryujin, jay!” you hear a female voice giggle right as you step through the front door.

ryujin let out a squeal, a rare sound you never exactly hear from her, “yeji, my beloved!”

‘people really do act differently in different crowds, huh?’ you thought to yourself.

behind the girl you now identified as yeji, you saw a boy standing behind her with his hand resting on the small of her back.

“this is our lovely y/n!” ryujin introduces you with an arm around your shoulder. “y/n, this is yeji and sunghoon. they're the second best couple on campus obviously.”

“yah, don't get it mixed up!” sunghoon laughs before greeting jay with some special handshake you had never seen before.

you wave at them shyly, “hi, sunghoon. hi, yeji.”

“hey, sexy!” a drunk hwang yeji saunters over to wrap her arms around you in a quick hug. “woah, I love your dress. it's so cute! I wish yuna was here right now. she'd fucking love this outfit.”

“umm... thanks,” you stiffly nod as yeji continues to awe at your dress with her hands gripping your shoulders.

“that's enough, babe,” sunghoon pulls yeji into his chest from behind. he looks coherent enough to function but at the same time has his bangs flopping over his forehead that make him appear sleepily tipsy. “sorry about her. she gets clingy after a drink or two.”

“it’s alright,” you say distractedly, choosing to bury your discomfort by watching yeji cutely thrash around in her boyfriend’s hold while asking for more shots.

“where's jake?” jay asks curiously.

jake? that name sounded familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“he’s right here—” sunghoon lazily looks over his right shoulder and then over his left, still buzzed on the few cups of alcohol he drank previously. “oh, guess he disappeared somewhere.”

you all continue talking for another handful of minutes. sunghoon’s even generous enough to throw a couple questions your way in an attempt to make you feel included, which was honestly a breath of fresh air. you loved your best friends to death, but usually talking to other people with them is like sitting in the corner at a family reunion. it was your role as the quiet, antisocial friend.

though as enjoyable as it was to have a group to stick around with versus being alone, you realized how slow and random a conversation with two drunk people could be. the five of you eventually ran out of things to say.

sunghoon and yeji excuse themselves, sunghoon having to guide her by the shoulders to keep her upright as they disappear into the crowd.

ryujin lightly taps your shoulder, “jay and I are going to play beer pong for a bit. wanna come?”

“I'm fine,” you decline the invitation. “I think I'm going to find some water in the kitchen.”

“okay, bestie,” she gives you a side hug before linking arms with her boyfriend to walk further into the crowd. “you know the drill, be careful and call me if you need anything!”

“I will!” you shout back and begin wandering off to the kitchen by yourself.

it takes you a second to locate where the water bottles are stored, but you quickly manage to find them and take one for yourself.

“hey,” a voice says from over your shoulder, a hand reaching forward to grab one of the other water bottles in front of you. “y/n, right?”

it’s the boy from the coffee shop. if there was one thing you remembered, it was his kind face and australian accent.

“hi…” your voice trails off.

you forgot his name.

“ah, do you not remember me?” he says with a bit of disappointment. “I’m—”

“hold on, let me at least guess first!” you study his face, doing your best to dig into the back of your memory. “I remember you, I swear! something that starts with a ‘j.’ like jim, maybe james, or… wasn’t it jack?”

“close,” he laughs. “I’m jake. jake sim.”

he holds his hand out for a simple handshake, which you gladly accept.

“ah, you’re that jake,” you say in a dumbfounded tone. “sunghoon and yeji’s friend, right?”

“yeah, how’d you know?” he questions you with curiosity lacing his voice. not only was he surprised that you knew anything about him at all, but you actually were acknowledging him out of the friend group without yeji and sunghoon present.

“I’m friends with jay and ryujin.”

“ah, you’re that y/n!”

you nod, “yeah.”

basic, surface-level questions are asked as well as other miscellaneous talking points. there’s even an odd talk about the nice weather, which was unfitting for being indoors during the winter season but you don’t comment on it again.

“how are you liking the party?” jake switches subjects, scared that you’ll leave if the atmosphere drops. “is it any fun?”

“eh, you’re the highlight of it so far,” you shrug. “I don’t really drink or do anything in particular, so I just kind of float around until I decide to ditch.”

jake feels his heart begin to race. it was his first time hearing a girl make a comment like that about him.

“wanna ditch this party together?” he blurts out the invite, feeling a sense of boldness he’s never felt before. “I can drive us.”

an expression of uncertainty crosses your face, “where to exactly?”

“I said it more as an impromptu idea but…” he takes a moment to think. “we could go get breakfast, like they do in christmas movies and stuff. waffles, maybe?”

you contemplate if it’s smart to trust someone who’s essentially a stranger to you, but then your inner monologue comes in.

he knows sunghoon. granted, you didn’t remember who sunghoon was until jay had to remind you, but he bought you food once. and on your birthday too. that had to count for something, right? plus, jake seemed even sweeter. it may just be his puppy-like appearance carrying the assumption, but he was also a nervous wreck upon mixing up your coffees not to long ago.

you decide to trust him.

“it’s a bit late to be living out your christmas movie moment,” you say, noticing how jake’s face begins to falter into panic. “but I do like waffles.”

“perfect,” he lets out a sigh of relief. “let’s go.”

you end up sitting in jake’s car five minutes before the first of january, a fancy waffle from some food truck jake googled in your hand. the two of you are parked right in front of your house, all the lights inside are off from your parents already being asleep.

“it’s almost midnight,” jake states while looking at the clock on the car’s dashboard. “any new year’s resolutions?”

“no,” you shake your head. “I’m not into that sort of bullshit.”

you examine jake’s face. he looks like he’s about to protest your opinion but then stops himself.

“okay, that’s fair,” he says.

“do you have any new year’s resolutions?” you shoot the question back at him.

“yeah,” he shyly admits. he bites his lip, a habit you’ve noticed he does a lot when he seems nervous, as he stares at the road ahead. “I want to fall in love.”

“that’s a pretty bold statement,” you comment.

“yeah, I know,” he lets out a small laugh. “but I guess I want to stop being so shy and gain some confidence.”

three minutes.

“you’re social skills aren’t that bad,” you say honestly, hoping that will encourage him. “you’re awkward but in the most endearing way possible if that makes any sense.”

you manage to get a goofy grin out of him, “not a bad compliment, I’ll take it.”

“I’m not the most confident person either,” you admit. “I’m not sure if I’d wish to be that kind of person, but good for you. have fun falling in love.”

two minutes.

“it sounds weird when you put it like that,” he covers his face with the palms of his hands in embarrassment. “I just want to understand what it’s like, give romance a try and all that. have you ever been in love, y/n?”

“no. no, I haven’t.”

you take a large bite of your thick-layered waffle.

one minute.

“you have some ice cream right here,” he gestures to the corner of his mouth using his own face.

“here?” you try wiping off the dessert with the back of your hand.

“no, you’re just smearing it,” he reaches his hand out to lightly cup your face, wiping the mess with his thumb. “there, all clear.”

his stare travels all over your face shining in the dim moonlight. he doesn’t know what to do. to him, you’re breathtaking.

he wonders if he should just go for it.

three, two, one.

“I should go inside,” you say, causing jake’s attention to immediately withdraw from your lips. “I’m feeling a little tired.”

“yeah, go ahead,” he can sense the heat nearly flushing his face. he clears his throat as he unlocks the car. “happy new year, y/n.”

you smile before hopping out and setting a hand on the car door, ready to close it, “happy new year.”

the third encounter.

“and so we meet again.”

“how dramatic of you to say,” you chuckle, not expecting to run into anyone while standing in the middle of the candy isle at your local grocery store. “but what's up, jake?”

“nothing much,” the boy shrugs. he goes to stand behind you, browsing the rows of candy bags and chocolate bars closely. “just getting some snacks for me and my friends.”

“me too!” you gasp, easing up to the conversation. “ryujin and jay always make me go out to buy snacks. I swear, I love them to death but couples sometimes...”

you think back to fifteen minutes ago when your two best friends practically forced you out of jay's apartment complex. they were more persistent than usual, but you chalked that up as them needing time to make out another half hour before you returned.

“I know right!” jake enthusiastically agrees. “sunghoon and yeji are like that too.”

in all honesty, you thought you wouldn’t see jake again after the party. it was still winter break after all and who knew you’d randomly run into each other like this.

once you’re done picking out your snacks, getting some new recommendations from jake, you walk to the self checkout area together and don’t separate until you reach the parking lot.

he hesitates before parting ways, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ll see you around?”

“yeah, see you around,” you wave him goodbye.

he walks away and you scold yourself for lingering on his figure, hoping you really would see him again some time soon.

“how was it?” ryujin asks right as you join them back on the couch of jay’s apartment.

“going to the store?” you say slowly, confused as to why ryujin looked so interested. “it was fine.”

“did anything interesting happen?” she continues to badger you.

“nothing really,” you shrug. “I ran into jake while I was there. that’s about it.”

“jake?” jay chimes in. “jake’s a pretty cool guy, really smart and trustworthy too. he’s like a brother to me.”

you give him a look, “why are you buttering him up to me all of a sudden?”

“I’m not,” jay denies.

“okay,” you mutter under your breath, deciding to open up a chocolate bar and start paying attention to whatever tv show was playing. “you guys are weird.”

the fourth encounter.

“oh my god, what are you guys doing here?” ryujin squeals in excitement, lowering her volume as much as possible in the movie theater.

“no way,” yeji gasps. “you guys are here to see this movie too! wow, same time and everything. isn't that crazy, hoon?”

“yeah,” sunghoon nods rapidly, trying to look casual. “what a total coincidence.”

“come sit with us!” yeji ushers the three of you with a bright sparkle in her eyes despite the dim lighting, discreetly elbowing sunghoon's side for his poor acting job when no one is looking.

jay goes to sit on sunghoon's side, while you and ryujin go to the opposite end. you take the farthest seat, leaving ryujin to sit in between you and jake.

“what’s wrong?” you ask her once you catch the alarmed look in her eyes.

you expect her to answer but instead she goes to face the other side away from you. confused, you go back to watching the movie trailers play without another word.

“jake,” ryujin whispers after a couple minutes. “would it be okay if we switched seats? I want to sit by yeji.”

you turn your head with a surprised expression, overhearing her request, “ouch, is sitting by me not good enough for you?”

“yah, it's not that,” ryujin instantly denies and clicks her tongue. “plus, you don’t even like hearing me talk during movies anyways.”

you stare at her for a moment before sighing and leaning back into your seat, “whatever.”

jake stands up to switch spots with ryujin, sending you a lopsided smile.

“popcorn?” jake offers.

reaching your hand into the bag, you nod, “sure.”

you sigh, “they're totally trying to set us up, aren't they?”

“yeah, they're really obvious,” jake says in agreement.

the amount of times you have seen jake within the past month was astounding to you. you've seen him at the mall, at restaurants, and now that you are back to attending classes, you even see him frequently around campus.

you wonder every now and then how many times you’ve passed by him without knowing who he was, but lately it feels rather impossible to not notice him everywhere you go.

you recall the time when it had dawned on you that there was more to your relationship with jake than pure coincidence, it was one particular memory that had made you realize.

“oh, you met jake at the party?” ryujin gasped over the phone.

it was the day after, ryujin following her routine of giving you a check-up call after she was done taking care of her hangover.

“actually we met a couple weeks before,” you mentioned. “he was the one who accidentally switched our coffees on the last day of exam week.”

“how adorable!” she gushed, and in that very moment, you regretted telling her any of that. you could already predict where the conversation was now heading. “so, would you say he’s your type?”

“I’ve already told you, ryu,” you warned, your voice growing tired. “don’t try playing cupid with me. I’m not interested in him like that. I’m not interested in anyone.”

you could picture ryujin’s face as you heard her scoff, “sounds to me like you’re in denial.”

“am not,” you firmly shut down her accusations. “yeah, he’s cute and all but—”

“wait, did you just call him cute?”

“huh?” you stuttered, not processing the words you let slip out. “okay, whatever—”

“no, you never call anyone cute!” she exclaims. “you’re attracted to jake sim.”

“and so what if I am? he’s just some nice guy,” you tried to reason, not wanting to make it a big deal.

ryujin was the one with the hangover, but why did it feel like your brain was suffering?

“why are you so afraid to date, y/n?” ryujin’s voice softened. “I know you don’t want to open your heart out to people, but you can always start out slow. it’s okay to date just to date, and if you fall in love, then so be it. the trick about falling in love is that it’s spontaneous. it just happens.”

“I don’t know,” you told her honestly. “maybe a part of me does want to date him, but you know me, I don’t want to commit to something that seems all sweet at first but isn’t.”

“don’t let this opportunity pass you by, y/n.” ryujin offered her last attempt of advice. “dating is different for everyone, but for the most part, you date someone to get to know them. you won’t know unless you try.”

and now you’re here. walking outside the movie theater, feeling a sense of deja vu as you head to jake’s car. those four of your so-called friends were awful at making excuses, especially sunghoon, but you went along with their shenanigans.

jake wasn’t bad company anyways.

the drive to your house is nice. it’s filled with jake’s music softly playing from the aux cord, the both of you talking about whatever comes to mind, and along the way, you stop to get gas and grab some gas station slushies.

“cherry is the better flavor,” you still argue ten minutes later, sipping on your slushie.

his lips stretch into a straight line, “what’s wrong with blue raspberry?”

“blue raspberry is simply irrelevant,” you say. “cherry is the classic flavor of childhood.”

“I won’t win if I keep arguing with you, will I?”

“nope.”

the both of you laugh, silence in the air as you let the current song playing finish.

“so what should we do about the whole situation with our friends trying to get us together?” jake finally brings back the topic.

“we can just ignore it, right?” you suggest. “they’re only trying to make us see each other more, and to be honest, I don’t mind that. you’re pretty cool in my opinion.”

“really?” he says, an underlying tone of disbelief.

“yeah, really.”

the conversation is cut short when he pulls up to your driveway.

“thanks again for the ride,” you thank him, unbuckling your seatbelt. “not that you had any other choice than to leave me stranded at the movie theater.”

he chuckles, “don’t worry about it. I’ll give you a ride anytime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say as you exit the car.

you go to shut the door behind you but hear jake call out your name.

“by the way, just out of curiosity,” he starts nervously. “what’s the motivation behind your friends getting you to date?”

“I’m not someone who opens up to others easily,” you explain. “it's not like I'm closed off to the idea of dating someone for forever or anything. I'm just looking for somebody that I’d actually be compatible with, you know?”

“would you...” jake stops himself from finishing the sentence.

would you say we’re compatible?

you tilt your head, “what?”

“what?”

“no, what were you going to say?”

“oh, it was nothing.”

“okay...”

“goodnight, y/n.”

“night, jake.”

the fifth encounter and the start of many more.

“are you stalking me?”

you tilt your head up to see just the person you had in mind. he waits for you to meet his pace as you stroll through your campus side by side. it was later in the afternoon, so not many students were passing by the classroom buildings at your relatively small college.

it had been over a week or two since you last saw him.

you tsk, “no, are you stalking me?”

“you wish,” he says, his face giving off the impression that he wished he could take it back. “sorry, that was creepy. it was meant to be a joke.”

“I figured, jake,” you burst out into a small fit of laughter.

“I missed talking to you,” he confesses. “I wanted to say this a long time ago, but we should exchange numbers.”

“yeah,” you laugh at the fact that neither of you had mentioned that before. “we really should.”

you grab your phone from your pocket and set it up to add a new contact.

“here,” you hand him your phone and he does the same.

jake pokes your arm, quickly catching your attention as you notice him holding his phone up to take a picture, “smile!”

you fix a closed lip-smile onto your face until he puts his phone down.

“your turn,” you snap of picture of him before he can even process what’s happening.

“wait, I wasn’t ready!” he tries to steal your phone but you hold it to your chest. “not fair, y/n.”

you stick your tongue out, “get over it.”

“you just got out of class, right? want to get something to eat and catch up?” he nudges your side.

you stop in your tracks.

“I’ll unfortunately have to pass,” you have to turn down the offer. “funnily enough, yeji asked me to help her out with an assignment since we share the same major.”

“ah, my own friend is stealing you away from me,” he teases lightheartedly, suppressing his actual disappointment. “I’ll let you do that then.”

“I’ll text you later.”

“yeah, I’d like that.”

it takes approximately seven seconds for him to build the courage to say what he’s been wanting to say all along.

“hey!” jake catches up to you. “before you leave, do you...”

“go on,” you stare at him expectantly. you weren’t going to let him leave you hanging like last time. “what were you going to say?”

“do you want to hang out sometime?” he finally spits out the question. “like make plans instead of coming across each other by happenstance.”

“can you call it happenstance if most of it was a set up by our friends?”

“I guess not,” he pouts for a split second before regaining focus. “but seriously, I want to see you again.”

“like on a date?” you ask for clarification.

jake sheepishly smiles down at the ground, “if that's okay with you.”

ryujin’s words stick to the back of your mind like glue.

“don’t let this opportunity pass you by, y/n. dating is different for everyone, but for the most part, you date someone to get to know them. you won’t know unless you try.”

you liked jake sim, it just took you some time to admit it. each day that went by without you seeing him made you unable to deny the fact that you missed having him around when he was gone.

maybe it couldn’t hurt giving it a try like ryujin said.

you place an innocent kiss on his cheek, “that'd be more than okay.”

it takes almost every muscle in his body to not lose his composure and faint right on the spot.

“great, it's a date then,” he takes a step closer, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. as silence falls upon you, he takes the chance to speak again. “your eyes are so pretty. I think they remind me of layla’s.”

you take a step back, “…layla?”

“my dog.”

“I remind you of your dog?”

“wait, I didn’t mean that in a weird way. it’s just that you have really pretty eyes that sparkle in the sunlight… like my dog, layla. please don’t be offended.”

“we’ll just forget the last twenty seconds never happened,” you say for his sake and for yours.

“let me phrase what I really meant to say,” he straightens his posture and closes the distance again. “what I was trying to say is that you look really beautiful up close.”

“such a flirt,” you smirk teasingly, “do you say that to just any girl?”

“no, only to the girls I like,” jake a grin appears on his lips for a split second before it begins to falter. “was that corny?”

“just a little bit,” you laugh.

“damn, I keep slipping up,” jake joins in on your laughter. “you’ll still date me, right?”

“only if it’s too late to back out.”

“unfortunately for you, your back out card has already expired.”

“shit, already?” you jokingly curse under your breath.

“would it be too soon if I asked for a kiss?” he asks for permission with a crack in his voice.

you raise an eyebrow, “too eager to save it for our first date, sim?”

“if anything I’m late for not doing it at midnight on new year’s day,” he says, mentally applauding himself for sounding so smooth. “so can I?”

your eyes bore into his, “you’re already hovering over my face so why not.”

jake crashes his lips onto yours, intoxicating you with one sweet and simple kiss.

you finally understand that night in jake’s car, his new year’s resolution. it all begins to make a little more sense.

falling in love didn’t seem like such a bad idea now that his lips were pressed against yours with his hand gently caressing your hair, and even when the kiss breaks with an awkward laugh, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

in your mind, there was no better new year's resolution than being with jake sim.

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