#I was mocking sports with my mom

[dandelionflowery-reblogs]

^yes you are now ATAT (assigned trans at tumblr)

(💀 is that a face?)🥅⚽🎿🛒☝️

WHY IS IT ALL SPORTS WTF

💯🙏💛🟨👍

[theintelligentfool]

you guys i love college so much

[pirateprincessblog]

let me help

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: after giving birth and getting bored at home, you come back to work. nothing has changed, except the pair of eyes that look at you in a different light in the corner of the room. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: choi jongho x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: singlemother!reader, pervy!jongho, needy!reader, dom!jongho 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: milf!reader, breastplay, oral fixation, breastfeeding (LIKE TWO DROPS BEAR WITH ME), dry humping

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none? 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this was so NOT inspired by a crazy reddit post i saw on tiktok lmao, also reader is not necessarily big boobed just imagine whatever u want

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

***

being pregnant is hard. giving birth is harder. raising an actual pocket sized human was supposed to be the hardest. yet there she is, your own child, sleeping in her crib without a single care in the world. it's been weeks since you gave birth now, and you don't know what you're doing right, but this baby might be the calmest baby in the world. almost always asleep, and when awake, laughing her ass off until she tires herself to sleep again.

frankly, you are bored. you were ready for crying, screaming, projectile fluids, messes, and whatnot. however, this child appears to be toying with you. it laughs in your face, almost as if mocking you for having to stay at home. besides sleeping, she eats quite well. your breasts are beginning to feel sensitive, but you're not complaining just yet, in case it gets worse.

"mom, i want to-" you start speaking one day, switching channels on the tv as the baby naps on your chest.

"hush! you're gonna wake her up!" the woman on the other couch whisper-yells at you.

"you did not just say that. she's passed out, look at her!" you gently pat her back, seeking a reaction. but when she only exhales in her sleep, you look at your mother with a raised eyebrow. "see? like a little drunkie."

"fine, fine. whatever. what did you want to say?"

"i want to go back to work."

"absolutely not."

"why not?!"

"you just had a baby!"

"yeah, weeks ago!"

the woman sighs, slapping her hands on her thighs in disbelief. "are you crazy?"

rolling your eyes, you sit up straight, picking the baby up and placing her on the blanket on the couch. she yawns in her sleep, and her small hands reach out to search for anything to grab on for comfort. she finds the ends of your sleeves, squeezing the fabric between her chubby fingers before dozing off again.

"mom, i honestly don't know what to do with myself anymore. i cleaned the house so many times for the past few weeks, as if i committed a crime and am trying to erase all the evidence. i have no desire for any hobbies or sports, i just want to go back to work. could you watch her for a few hours every now and then? it's not like it's every day."

just in time, your father enters the living room. seeing that he has helped himself to a bottle of beer your ex has left in the basement, you can't help but laugh.

"what is it?" he asks, noticing the difference in the energy of the room.

"your daughter wants to go back to work."

"oh, my! congratulati-"

"no! you're not supposed to be on her side." your mother slaps his shoulder, causing him to frown at her and gently push her off with that same shoulder.

"come on, mary. she's gonna die of boredom. besides, i'm sure she can adjust her schedule and shorten her working hours?"

you nod, feeling grateful that at least someone understands you. you don't give your mother a chance to protest, you wouldn't listen to her anyway. your fingers are already dialing the company, notifying them of your return.

***

your makeup and hair station awaits you just like you left it: the silly polaroids still taped on the corners of it, along with random bows and flowers. a small bouquet of fresh flowers awaits you, with an attached note and a baby store gift card.

𝓽�� 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝔂𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽, 𝔀𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!

𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓬𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼,

𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓮𝔃

soon after, you are bombarded with hugs and questions, first from the members then the staff.

"wow, i can't believe a whole baby came out of you! that's so weird."

wooyoung earns himself a smack to the back of his head for that, hongjoong and seonghwa looking at him disapprovingly. "you can't say that, you dumbass."

"what? that's incredible! did it hurt?"

"wooyoung, don't be so-"

"oh, it's fine. let him ask." you come to his defense. "it did hurt, like a bitch. my ex had a big head, you figure out the rest."

the rest of the day goes fast, boys enjoying asking you questions and telling you about what you've missed, and you happily answering those questions and praising them for their progress. one person doesn't speak to you, and instead chooses to sit in the corner of the room, scrolling on his phone. jongho has barely looked at you after giving you a hug and congratulating you, opting for silence instead of engaging in the conversation. you don't talk to him, instead giving him peace.

was he angry that you left? especially during an important time, when they grew as a group and needed as much help as possible? after all, you weren't only their stylist, you were there when they needed help, comforting and whatnot. you're probably the only one who knew of their crushes, secret short relationships and struggles. and you've all kept it that way for a long time, and they still trust you. not once have you betrayed their trust, and being older than them, it makes it easier for them to lay all their concerns in you.

you're sad that you weren't there to experience coachella with them, but they made sure to show you picture and videos, even gave you mingi's bucket hat that had an autograph of other coachella performers on it.

"oh, i can't take this." you try declining, shoving the hat back in mingi's hands.

"sure you can. just take it."

after going back and forth with him, you finally give up, taking the hat and placing it on the corner of the mirror, as if it was wearing it. one by one, they are done with their preparations and leave the room. there's still time until the show, yet the screaming outside is so loud one would think the boys went out already. jongho stays sitting on the couch, not giving you any attention. it gives you time to adjust your bra, your sensitive nipples rubbing against the fabric and giving you a hard time. you wish you could just take it off, but with your luck, you would lactate all over the place.

having a sundress on doesn't make it any easier, your flesh painfully starting to poke out of it. not only did you not fix the situation, you also caused them to become swollen and painful. you sigh, defeated. the only thing left to do is finish jongho quickly and go home. maybe your mother was right. what were you thinking, wearing the dress anyway? guess those oversized clothes during your pregnancy grew onto you. before, you wouldn't be caught dead in a hoodie or a simple t-shirt outside of your home.

"jjong?" you call once you prepare the station for him. when he doesn't reply, your raise your head to look at him through the mirror, and find him already staring at you. "jongho?"

he jolts, cheeks painted pink. "yes?"

"will you come over so i can finish you?"

"yeah, sure."

the young man sits in the chair, squirming for the most of the time. everything seems to go smoothly, until you have to get closer to do his eye makeup. just a hint of eyeliner and eyeshadow seems to be taking ages now, with jongho shuffling and blinking for a worrying amount of time.

"jongho, sweetheart, i need you to stay still if you want to be out of here soon."

by the time he listens, the liquid liner has dried off on the brush, and you turn around to reach into the black bottle to reapply it. a sharp pain goes through one of your breasts, causing you to yelp and drop the brush and spill the bottle all over the counter. jongho opens his eyes, then sits up straight, worry painted on his features.

"are you okay?"

"yeah, just- give me a second."

you hold onto your breasts, back turned to him. still in pain, you don't care if he sees what you're doing. all you want is for it to stop.

"does it... hurt?" he asks carefully, peeking at you through the mirror.

you hum, gently squeezing them in hopes to relieve it.

"can i help in any way?"

"no, there's not much you can do. unless you want to be breastfed so my milk ducts get unclogged." you laugh awkwardly, eyes still fixed on the mess you've created on the counter.

when you don't hear any laughing from his side, you turn around, only to find him dead serious. you stutter, embarrassment flooding your cheeks as you realize you can't really joke about these things with them. after all, they are your clients.

"sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfort-"

"i'll do it."

at that moment, the door opens, san poking his head through. "hey dude, there's like only a handful of snacks left for you, you better hurry up."

"it's fine." jongho replies, as calm as ever.

you still stand there, processing what he said. san shrugs, then the door closes again, and the man in front of you has his full attention on you.

"will that help relieve the pain?"

"i mean- i- i usually just breastfeed my daughter and it goes away. i could try pumping-"

"i'll help." he is persistent, still maintaining a poker face. it makes you lower your gaze, eyes fixed on his hands resting in his lap. he makes it so difficult to read his emotions.

"jongho, you- you can't be saying stuff like that."

you've never stuttered like this in front of anyone. not even your ex husband had you feeling this nervous under his gaze, not at the beginning of your relationship, not at the end. not ever. yet choi jongho looks at you so intensely, making your cheeks hot and your brain a mess.

"let me just finish you off quickly and then i can go home and solve the issue."

the man sits there for a few seconds, biting the inside of his cheek. he looks at your hands, still cupping your breasts, and without a word leaves his chair.

"wait, where are you-"

he locks the door, then tries it a few times to make sure nobody can get in. you stand still, afraid to move or say anything. not until he does something. he seems to take a few moments to think about the situation he has created. he said it so causally. just what was going on in his mind?

is the new state you're in doing something to him? is that why he was refusing to interact with you?

"jongho, just get back in the chair so you can be a free man. come on."

"no. i want to help."

"fine. what, do you want me to just whip out my tits and let you do whatever to them?" you roll your eyes, avoiding to look at him.

you miss the way he smirks, and only look at him once he sits back on the chair in front of you. you yelp, hands flying to his shoulders as he pulls you to sit on his lap. there is more than just wanting to help, you're sure of it now.

his fingers toy with the outline of your sundress, knuckles caressing the swollen flesh along the way. you can't help but shiver, hands still firmly planted on his shoulders.

"sit," he orders quietly, once he notices you're hovering over his lap. when you fail to listen, he pushes you down, right on his hard crotch. "may i?"

you nod, hurriedly, as if he will change his mind if you take too long. you haven't been touched, not even by yourself, for months. ever since your husband left you, right at the beginning of your pregnancy, you were constantly nervous, sick, and whatnot. pleasure was the last thing on your mind. and even though jongho is trying to do a nice thing, your brain cannot help but think of it as a sexual interaction.

which is why you are dripping already, his fingers barely touching you as he unties the little bow that holds the front of the sundress together. he looks at your plain white bra, and both of your realize just how perfect of a choice you made for today. in hooks in the front, and it takes jongho less than a second to unhook it with a single hand.

your swollen breasts now freely spill from the loose fabric, freeing your sensitive and swollen nipples that are begging for release. the dark haired man cups them, gently kneading as if he does that every day. he doesn't squeeze them, and you are thankful that he knows what he is doing. and impressed.

his thumbs swipe over your nipples, and a hiss escapes your mouth.

"hurts?"

you nod, face twisting with pain as he tests the waters and tries various motions on them.

"they're... bigger." he comments.

"yeah... i'm quite sad i don't get to keep them."

he chuckles, and so do you, finally feeling a little relaxed. nothing about your current state should make you relaxed. you should be jumping off that chair, finish his look at go home. not...  subconsciously dry hump him.

"you know, i thought my crush on you would go away when you got married. it didn't. i thought it would go away when you got pregnant. it didn't. i thought it would for sure go away when you gave birth. and guess what? it only got worse."

with your jaw dropped, all you can do is stare at him. so there was a hidden motive after all.

"i'm going to put it in my mouth now. is that okay?"

"jongho, none of this is okay." you say, your brain working against your heart. and your pussy.

"it's fine. i'm just helping you. that's all."

"yeah, well, putting my nipple in your mouth isn't what one might consider help- oh!" he swipes his tongue over the hardened nipple, finally making you shut up.

his hand cups your breast, gently squeezing it before he attaches his lips to it. your hands instinctively grab at his hair, almost shoving his head into your chest. he chuckles, enjoying how desperate you are when he hasn't done anything properly yet.

your hips grind on his, and you aren't aware of it until the surface beneath you gets harder and harder. jongho grunts against your chest when you roll your hips properly, and it makes you stop. you try pushing him away, ready to start apologizing over and over again. but jongho simply lets go of your breasts, only to put his hands on your ass and help you roll your hips again.

his lips finally start sucking on the tense bud, causing you to yelp in pain. he squeezes your ass, as a way to comfort you. his tongue swipes over your nipple every now and then between sucking, just to soothe you. one hand cups your breast again, gently squeezing it in hopes that it will help.

this time, he is the one to yelp. you look down, embarrassment flooding your cheeks once again. your fingers have tangled themselves in his dark locks, accidentally pulling a bit harder and causing him pain.

"it's alright," he assures, smiling at you. "should i continue?"

"yes, please."

he wraps his lips around the nipple once again, sucking softly. the sight has your panties drenched; your client sitting on your chair, sucking on your tit, while you hold onto him for dear life and grind on him. the rough fabric of his jeans, combined with the fabric of your underwear, deliciously rubs against your clit, causing the pleasure to start building up in your lower stomach. you've almost forgotten about the pain, jongho's now swollen lips kissing and tugging at both of your nipples, and your crotch getting all the attention.

you no longer care about being quiet, moans and gasps shamelessly multiplying and getting louder, hips working relentlessly and fingers tugging his hair. never getting this close before, you force yourself to stop and pull away from him.

"what, what is it?" he asks, shiny eyes looking up at you.

"nothing, i-" you look down, picking the hem of your dress up and revealing a wet spot on his crotch. "i'm going to... you know."

it feels illegal to say the word.

"cum?" he finishes for you.

"yes."

"why did you stop?"

you sigh. your hands caress his cheeks and hair, fixing his messy state. "it's been a while. i don't want to cum with my clothes on. on my client's lap."

jongho takes a moment to think. you find out that it is not a good thing to let him do that. he picks you up, carrying you all the way to the couch where he sat. you find yourself laying on the soft surface, while jongho places a pillow under your head, and one under your lower back.

"can you hold this here for me?" he scrunches the ends of your dress under your chest, and you listen. "do you feel any better?"

"i mean... it's still clogged. maybe try a little harder?"

he takes it as a challenge, almost jumping on you like a starved animal. your hands now grip at the fabric on his back, nails digging into it. he doesn't protest, instead burying his head further into your chest and leaving a few feathery kisses before he takes your breast in his mouth again. just as you asked, he sucks harder. it hurts, more than before. your moans turn into whines and almost sobs, fingers hopelessly clawing at his back but not yet asking him to stop. tears threaten to spill down your cheeks, and you can barely contain them.

the man uses his hand to massage the other breast, caressing it, and the other to spread your legs so he can fit between them better. instead of going back to cup the breast he is currently working on, he slides it up your thigh, all the was to the outline of your panties. he pushes them aside, then gently brings his fingers to your folds.

"you don't- ah!" he finds your clit, giving it an experimental rub, "you don't have to do that."

"i want to." he mumbles, voice lower and raspier than you've ever heard from him before. sensing that you have stopped breathing for a second, jongho looks up at you, mouth still wrapped around your sensitive bud. he only raises and eyebrow and smirks against you, before continuing his actions, eyes not once leaving yours.

you weren't a fan of keeping your eyes open during sexual encounters. your husband didn't care. but this? jongho seems to be aware of the power his stare holds, mostly because his fingers effortlessly slip past your folds and inside your aching hole. you can't find it in yourself to look away, too lost in the way his lips look on you, and his body fits between your legs.

"harder-" you whine. "suck harder."

he hums, sucking harder and harder, while his fingers slowly start abusing your hole. he graces you with deep strokes, knuckles disappearing inside of you and fingers scissoring. the room is filled with squelching, kissing and sucking noises, along with your shallow breathing and a few moans and yelps. his thumb finds your clit once again, rubbing it as he continues fingering you. a tingling sensation appears in your lower stomach again, this time faster and stronger.

"jjong-" you gasp, liquid spilling from your breast and in his mouth. "fuck!"

he turns to the other one, repeating the process, all while his hand inches you closer and closer to the release you haven't tasted in months. white liquid drips down both of your breasts, nipples now more tense than ever.

he grunts along with you, grinding his hips on your leg. the man doesn't waste a single moment before licking away all the liquid that decorates your shaking body. the sight sends you over the edge, along with his fingers in your hole and his soft panting.

with your head thrown back over the edge of the couch, you find your body twitching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. even after jongho is done cleaning your mess that he caused, you have trouble catching your breath and calming yourself.

"hey, hey. i got you." he speaks softly, cupping your face.

he looks at you with different eyes now; soft and caring. a complete opposite of the lustful and intense one you just saw moments ago.

"feeling better?"

you nod, gulping. "i- thank you?"

he laughs, then plants a kiss on your forehead. "thank you."

"what for?"

"for making my fantasy come true."

"you're crazy," you laugh.

"for you, yes. now, let me help you get cleaned and dressed, so i can feel like i have shred of dignity before i ask you out."

"i- oh. but wait, what about you? did you...?"

he stands up, giving you space to stretch your limbs. he reveals a wet patch on his crotch, and not the one you made. "yeah... no sane man could survive this without cumming in his pants. you can't blame me."

[hoejosatoru]

it's nice to have a friend

Pairing: Fem!reader x Bachira, readers hair color/texture and skin color not specified. Characters are aged up 21+

Summary: You have been keeping a secret from your best friend for years: you're in love with him. Throughout the years it gets harder and harder to be close with him, but not in the way you really want. You reach a crossroads: tell him how you feel and risk your friendship, or accept it was never meant to be.

a/n: This took me way longer to write than I expected, but I'm happy to finally have it out. Title based on the Taylor swift, which is what inspired aspects of this fic.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Slowish burn friends to lovers, light bullying in childhood sections from unnamed character to reader, mutual pining, fingering, pet names, unprotected sex, cream pie. Not proof read. If aging up characters make you uncomfortable, don't read. MDNI

When you were 8 years old...

You met Bachira for the first time. You were at the park, collecting little flowers to put in your hair. You were about to pick a rather pretty pink one when a soccer ball rolled over it, crushing the delicate flower.

"Hey!" you grumbled at the young boy chasing after the ball, "You ruined my flower!"

The boy, who looked your age, looked down at the damage his ball caused. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said apologetically. He twisted around, scanning the grassy field. "Hold on!" You watched as the boy dashed away, picked a flower, then return to you. It looked just like the one you had been about to pick.

"Thank you," you beamed.

"Do you wanna play soccer with me?" he asked. He was passing the ball back and forth between his feet.

"I don't know how," you replied.

"I'll teach you! It's fun." He was balancing the ball on his foot now, which you found impressive. You'd always been a more solitary child, opting to play things on your own, however something about this boy made you interested in trying something new.

"Yeah, okay. Just a second." You quickly tucked the pink flower into your hair.

"Pretty," he smiled. "I'm Bachira, by the way. C'mon let's go!"

And so began your chasing after Bachira.

When you were 10 years old...

You and Bachira were each other's best friends. He never was able to get you into soccer, but you still humored him by kicking the ball around. Mostly, you just stood as an obstacle for him to practice his dribbling around, but you didn't mind. It was cool to see your best friend be so good at something.

Plus, Bachira was a fair sport. You loved drawing, which he'd always do with you. You thought Bachira's mom was so cool because she was an artist. You loved going over to his house and painting with her and Bachira.

Today, though, was a soccer day. You were passing the ball back and forth when it got away from you, as it often did. You ran after it, but it came to a stop in front of a boy’s feet. You gulped as you looked up, finding the class bully staring down at you.

"Watch where you're kicking that, loser," he sneered at you.

"'M n-not a loser," you replied, attempting to sound brave. The bully only laughed at you.

"Y-yes you are," he mimicked the catch in your voice meanly.

"Leave her alone!" Bachira shouted as he ran to your side.

"Aw look, it's your weirdo boyfriend!" he mocked.

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed by this for a reason you couldn't quite place. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"He should be, no one else likes you," he replied.

"Shut up!" you snapped, trying to get the ball away from him. You lacked the skills Bachira had, so he was able to keep it away. Your efforts made you stumble closer, allowing the bully to yank a lock of your hair. The force caused you to topple to the ground.

"Ow!" you cried as your knees hit the hard ground.

Bachira's eyes flared with anger. "Don't touch her!" Bachira lunged at the bully, who tried to evade him, but failed. Bachira managed to steal the ball back and then shoved the bully to the ground. He hit the ground with a resounding thud. An embarrassed flush reddened his cheeks.

"Whatever, you guys are freaks!" he yelled, before scrambling away.

Bachira turned to you, anger replaced by concern on his face. "Are you okay y/n?”

"Yeah, I'm fine," you nodded. Your cheeks were flushed, but for a completely different reason that your bully's were. Seeing Bachira stand up for you like that made you feel a way you never felt before.

"C'mon let's go back to my house. My mom will take us for ice cream." Bachira held his hand out to you to help you up. When you took it, your stomach flipped. A soft sort of warmth filled you, like hot chocolate after a day in the snow. Bachira held your hand the whole walk back to his house, chattering on as he often did when he knew you were upset. You, however, had practically forgotten about the bully, your attention completely taken over by this new feeling brought on by your best friend.

When you were 14...

You had long since come to terms with what those feelings meant. You had a crush on your best friend. It was your biggest secret, the only secret you kept from him. The two of you were as close as ever, despite gaining some more friends in middle school. Bachira had joined the soccer team and, unsurprisingly, was one of the top players. He made some friends on the team and you made some in art club. Though none of those relationships came close to what you had with Bachira. You refused to ruin that by blurting out how you really felt about him.

On this day, you both sat up on Bachira's roof, as you did more frequently now. The sun was setting on the last day of summer and tomorrow you'd be starting high school. You were nervous about the transition. You felt the levity of childhood waning behind you, as if all the choices you made from now on would hold more weight.

"What do you think high school will be like?" Bachira asked you. He had his hands behind his head, watching the sunset in a relaxed manner.

"Dunno," you replied, "Everyone makes it seem like a big deal. What do you think?"

Bachira shrugged. "I don't think it will be so bad." That was Bachira for you, always unbothered.

"I'm so jealous you never get nervous about anything," you sighed.

"I get nervous about somethings, like what if I don't get on the soccer team," he countered.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. "You're absolutely going to make the team, Meguru. I bet you'll even get on varsity."

"Don't jinx me now," he replied, grinning. He wasn't superstitious at all, but hearing your unwavering faith in him delighted him.

"Just don't let it get to your head and ditch me for cooler friends," you replied, covering your real fears in a jovial tone.

Bachira snorted. "I don't think you have to worry about that." Bachira rolled over to face you, jabbing his finger into your ribs. "Besides, no one is cooler than you."

"Yeah, whatever," you laughed nudging his shoulder back. "Just don't want things to change. People start dating and stuff and shit gets messy." You never had a boyfriend, though a few of friend dabbled in dating in middle school. You simply weren't interested in anyone. Bachira did not seem interested in romance, either, but you knew that day would come and you were dreading it.

"You stress too much, y/n," Bachira replied.

"Ugh I know I do," you sighed, "I'll probably end up like Isagi." You referenced Bachira's teammate who after weeks of stressing about how he would go in for his first kiss ended up biting the girl on accident.

Bachira laughed. "Is that what you're worried about? No way your first kiss could be worse than that."

"God I hope not," you replied, "Just that all my friends have kissed people. Sometimes I feel like I'm falling behind."

"I haven't kissed anyone either," he pointed out.

"That cause we're both losers."

"True," Bachira chuckled. He was quiet for a moment before adding, "Hey I've got an idea. Why don't we just kiss each other?"

Your head whipped around. "Huh?"

"You know just to get it out of the way, so you're not as stressed about when you have to kiss someone," he replied.

"Are you messing with me?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Bachira liked to pull little pranks and if he was just joking around, you didn't wanna agree and look like an idiot.

"Why not?" Bachira shrugged. "We're just friends, it doesn't have to mean anything." While it stung a little to hear Bachira say kissing you wouldn't mean anything, you couldn't pass up an opportunity to kiss him.

"Okay, yeah," you nodded. "Why not." There was a beat of silence before you both started to move closer to each other. You both let out awkward little laughs before your eyes fluttered shut. The next thing you knew, Bachira's mouth was pressed against yours.

You weren't sure how long it was, it really couldn't have been that long, but you swore time froze. Your entire body felt alive, buzzing with warmth. You leaned into him, letting yourself soak up every second of his soft lips against yours.

When you pulled away you were breathless and flushed. You quickly turned away, afraid that he might catch how much you enjoyed that. "Thanks," you mumbled, laying back down.

"That's what friends are for." Bachira laid beside you once again. The two of you stayed up on the roof until the sun dipped below the trees surrounded by a charged silence. You never spoke of the kiss again.

When you were 16...

You were heartbroken for the first time. Bachira had a girlfriend.

As you had predicted, Bachira made varsity in his freshman year and quickly became a star player. You went to every single game, happy to cheer on your best friend's success. With the success, came more people wanting to befriend him and, eventually, girls who were interested in dating him.

It wasn't until now, in junior year, that he ever accepted anyone's advances. You didn't know the girl very well, but you tried to be friendly. As much as it hurt to see Bachira with someone, you did want him to be happy. His girlfriend, however, had no interest in you. She was cold at best, often trying to keep Bachira from spending time with you.

Bachira still made efforts to hang out with you, but it was different. To fill the void, you tried dating yourself. A nice boy from one of your math classes. He asked you out and you figured you might as well give it a shot. Maybe, you thought, this would help you get over your unrequited love Bachira.

The relationship did not last long. He was a great guy, truly, but your heart wasn't in it. Nothing made you feel like Bachira did. You were grateful to part amicably with him.

Luckily, just a few months later Bachira ended his relationship as well. "She was a total bitch," he said as you walked home together after his game.

"I coulda told you that," you replied.

Bachira was bouncing the ball between his feet as he walked. "Next time please do. I didn't like how she treated you, I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner."

You shrugged. "It's whatever. Just try to find someone cooler next time."

Bachira grinned. "Gonna be hard to find someone cooler than you, but I'll try."

When you were 17...

Bachira asked you to go to prom as friends. Neither of you had any other relationships after your respective first time failures. You were ecstatic to be going with Bachira, even if it was just as friends. Your parents fawned over both of you, making to take about a million photos before you left. You both acted annoyed, but loved it. It was an excuse to touch, to be close. You were happy with Bachira's arms around you, even if it was just for a photo.

You put upcoming graduation out of your mind, determined to just have fun. College was looming, the inevitable separation of the two fo you. You just wanted to enjoy every minute with Bachira tonight.

Unbeknownst to you, Bachira was harboring similar feelings. He's had a crush on you for as long as he could remember, but never felt brave enough to tell you. He told himself it would be tonight, prom being the perfect time to make it special. But all the nerve he had worked up dissolved when he found you dancing with your ex after he stepped away for the bathroom. He suddenly felt foolish and locked his feelings deeper inside.

When you were 18...

You and Bachira were apart for the first time in your decade long friendship. Bachira went to one of the top collegiate soccer programs and you found yourself at a college known for the arts. While you were excited for this, it was difficult to be without your best friend.

"We'll be in touch," Bachira promised, "You'll get so sick of hearing from me so much." While you doubted that, you were reassured that he valued your friendship so much.

But it was easier said than done. In the beginning, you facetimed each other nearly every day, but as his soccer training picked up and your coursework increased it became difficult. The daily calls devolved into texts every few days, with the occasional FaceTime. There was a small part of you that was okay with the communication dwindling. It was hard to see Bachira without you, knowing his life was growing in a way you wouldn't be a part of. That people would enter it that he may come to care for more than you. It was almost easier to just ignore it.

When you were 22...

You were graduating from college and Bachira was set to play for a pro league overseas. As you progressed through college and Bachira pick dup training to be a pro athlete, your presence in each other's day-to-day lives dwindled. You kept contact with each other as best as you could and even visited each other at your respective schools a few times.

The best part of being with Bachira was that it was like nothing had ever changed. As sad as it was at times that you didn't get to see each other much, it felt good that it never impacted the core of your friendship.

Both of you had a string of relationships in college, none of them lasting that long. There was always something missing in the other person, a spark that they couldn't quite ignite.

As you hugged Bachira goodbye at the airport, you couldn't stop tears from flowing down your face. Not just for your best friend moving half a world away, but for all things you never said. For how you wished things could be different between the two of you. It all felt too late now.

"Oh come on y/n, you're not gonna miss me that much," Bachira teased lightly.

"Don't worry these are tears of joy," You replied, wiping them away. "I'm glad I'm finally getting rid of you.

Bachira grinned. "You'll never get rid of me."

"Is that a threat?"

"Nah, a promise."

When you were 25...

You got a call from Bachira. He was moving back home. Bachira had been offered a spot on the national team after his years of success overseas. His time away was not that much unlike when you were both away for college, checking in with each other whenever time allowed. The best part of him being away was being able to visit him. The fondest memories you had of the last year few years were when you traveled to his games and you got to explore different countries with him. Leaving was always difficult, so you were elated to hear that he would be just an hour from you.

But as you drove to his new place to see him for the first time in months, a choice weighed heavily on you. You've spent the last few years trying to find a relationship that would shake your want of Bachira. All your attempts, however, failed, leaving you feeling hopeless. So, you made the decision it was time to tell Bachira how you felt. You didn't expect him to reciprocate your feelings at all, but your hope was that getting it out of your system would allow you to finally move on.

You were scared, of course, that it could make your friendship awkward. But at this point, you felt there was no other choice.

The anxiety in your stomach to a backseat to the beautiful house you pulled up to. "Jeez, Meguru what are they paying you?"

"Too much, probably," Bachira replied with a grin. "C'mon, lemme give you the tour." It was a spacious, modern home with big windows the let in a lot of natural light. The artist in you would kill to have a space like this to paint in. One room, not furnished yet, had large windows overlooking the spacious backyard. The perfect place for Bachira to get his own practices in.

"A lot of house for one man," you said as you settled into his couch.

"I'm a big guy."

You snorted, "You're like 5'9."

Bachira huffed in faux offense. "I'll have you know, I measured in at 5'9 and a half."

"Wow, at that height you might have to switch over to basketball," you retorted. You and Bachira fell into you normal banter, which filled you with the comfortable warmth it always did. You chatted for awhile, catching up on all you've missed while away from each other.

Time slipped away from the two of you easily, the light fading from golden to an inky black of night. A silence settled over the two of you and nerves fluttered through your system. Now was your opportunity.

Just as you were steeling yourself to tell Bachira, he broke the silence. "Do you remember that night on my roof? The day before high school started?"

"Of course," you replied. Though it was over a decade ago at this point, it was a memory you replayed often.

"I had such a big crush on you," Bachira dropped this tidbit of information with a soft, nervous laugh.

Your head whipped around, certain you didn't hear him right. "What?"

"I liked you," Bachira repeated, "I was actually gonna ask you out, but then you said something about dating making things weird. I thought you were trying to subtly hint you weren't into me like that."

Your brain could barely process the information just presented to you. Bachira liked you. He had been that close to telling you and you fucked it up. You covered your face with your hands groaned. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"What do you mean?"

"I liked you, Bachira. I only said that because I was convinced you didn't like me and I was scared you were gonna start dating other people and forget about me," you explained. You were seriously kicking yourself at the moment. "If only I had kept my stupid mouth shut... all this time."

"Wait are you, serious? You liked me?" Bachira, replied, seeming genuinely surprised.

You nodded. "I... I still do," you answered. Might as well put all your cards on the table now. "I was actually planning to tell you tonight. I wasn't expecting to do it like this, but I couldn't hide it anymore."

"Wow," Bachira breathed.

"Yeah," you replied, "It's okay if you don't feel the same anymore."

Bachira laughed. "Now you are being a bit of an idiot." You shot him a look. "Oh come on, y/n, you really don't think I don't have feelings for you? For as well as you know me I can't believe you didn't see it."

"You didn't see that I liked you either," you countered.

"Well, I admittedly am an idiot," Bachira replied, making you both laugh. "I have something else to admit."

"What's that?" You couldn't imagine any more information, your head was already spinning.

"Well, I sorta bought this place with you in mind," he replied. "I also was planning on telling you how I felt when I returned home. If you felt the same, I was hoping you'd move in with me. That little room in the back looked like the perfect place to paint."

"You're fucking with me." You were too shocked to think of anything else to say. Meguru liked you. All this time, all these years he'd longed for you the same way you had. So much so that he was willing to shape his life around yours, to make space for the things he knew you loved. You felt tears prick at the back of your eyes.

"As much as I love fucking with you," he replied with a hint of a teasing grin, "This is not one of those times. And the offer stands. There is a place for you here with me, if you want it."

Your body moved on it's own accord, flinging yourself on to him. Your lips connected to his and suddenly you were 14 again. In that second where everything felt right in the world. Only this time it was not a fleeting moment, it was something real, something you could hold on to.

"I'll take the at as a yes?" Bachira asked when you pulled away, both breathless.

"Absolutely yes." Bachira was pulling you back into him as the words left your mouth. You were giddy as you kissed each other, hands exploring the other's bodies. Neither of you wanted to hold back after years of wanting this moment. You straddled his lap, pressing yourself even closer to him.

Bachira gripped under your thighs and held you as he stood up. "I have not waited this long to be with to have our first time be on a couch." He carried you with ease to the bedroom.

"When did you get this strong?"

"It's like you forget I'm a pro athlete." Honestly, sometimes you did.

"Yeah, but soccer players have strong legs not arms," you countered as he laid you down on his bed. Well, it was your bed too now. Bachira chuckled and kissed up your neck.

"All of me is strong. You'll see." He pulled off his shirt, revealing toned muscle and paving his point.

Bachira slid your shirt off, letting his hands explore your bare skin. He rolled your nipples in his fingers as his teeth tugged at your lower lip. A soft whine escaped you as you bucked your hips up for friction.

"Mmm, should I take these off you?" Bachira mused, hooking his finger into your pants. You nodded eagerly, wanting nothing more for Bachira to strip you, touch you. He did as you bid, leaving you bare for him.

"Fuck you're so beautiful," Bachira murmured. His hand traced down the length of your body. "Better than I ever imagined. Because to be honest I imagined you naked. A lot." You giggled, not bothered by this at all.

"It's okay I have pictured you naked plenty of times." Bachira grinned at that. It struck you how natural this all felt. The nature of your relationship had changed drastically in the last few minutes, and yet it didn't feel different at all. You were afraid that the admitting your feelings would take away the friendship you had, but it had done the opposite. It felt stronger, heightened, like this was always how it was meant to be.

"Guess I shouldn't keep you waiting, then." You pulled your lip between your teeth as Bachira took off the remainder of his clothes. Your body churned at the sight of him. His cock was long and flushed a pretty shade of pink. He looked painfully hard, leaking at the tip. "How's it compare to your imagination?"

"So much better."

Bachira leaned back over you, settling his hand between your legs. "Gonna prep you for me, okay angel?" His middle finger stroked up your slit. "Fuck you're soaked." Bachira breathed against your neck as he rubbed little circles over your clit. Your pussy clenched in response, desperate to be filled. He connected his lips back to yours as his slid a finger inside you.

Bachira kissed you deep and a little messy as he played with your pussy. His middle and ring finger were deep inside you, pressing your g spot with each curl. "Megu- ngh- feels so good." You were already breathless from his touch. It was if he already had you memorized, knowing exactly how to make you come undone.

"Gonna cum for me pretty? Wanna feel it on my fingers." He moved faster now, the sound of your wetness was damn near pornographic. With anyone else you may have been embarrassed, but you didn't care. Your mind could only focus on the pleasure that built, then finally snapped inside you.

"Meguru!" His name was honey on your lips. Your pussy clamped down around him, coating his fingers with your release. He pumped his fingers as you came, getting your pussy nice and slick for his cock.

"That was so hot," Bachira marveled. "Need to be inside you." You urged him, wanting to finally be full of him, not just his fingers. "Oh god," he groaned as he pressed inside you. Your wet, warm walls welcomed him, pulling him deeper inside you. You let out sweet little gasps as your body stretched around him.

"Feels amazing y/n," Bachira groaned, sliding his cock slowly through your walls. "So fucking perfect... can't believe I've wasted so much time... could've been fucking you like this for years." His hips snapped harder and faster as spoke. He was getting lost in the feel of you. Every time he thought he couldn't get better, your cunt fluttered around him and he reached a new lever of pleasure.

"You have me, Meguru," you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck. "All of me. Forever." Your back arched, making his cock his a deeper angle inside you. You both moaned into each other mouths as you kissed.

"Gonna cum y/n," Bachira babbled, "Gonna fill you up... cum with me angel... wanna feel you." He slid his hand down to toy with your sensitive clit as he thrust into you. Your body responded with a sweeping surge of pleasure throughout your whole body. You shook and slurred out his name as your second orgasm lit up your body.

Bachira's forehead fell to the pillow, beside your head as you clamped down on him impossibly tighter. A low groan escaped him as his hips halted deep inside you, filling you with his release. You felt his cock throb inside you as his warmth spread inside you.

"Fuck." Bachira was breathless and still buried inside you, even though you were both finished. "Promise I'm not just saying that because that was amazing. But I'm in love with you. I can't believe I waited so long to tell you that, but it's true."

You smiled, pushing the hair out of his eyes. "I love you too, Meguru."

When you were 26...

You and Bachira took a trip back to your hometown. You visited the park you first met in, reminiscing on old memories.

The next thing you knew, Bachira was down on one knee.

You said yes.

When you were 27...

You were dancing in a wedding dress with Bachira. You had a small ceremony in your backyard with your close friends and family. It was magical, better than anything you dreamed up when you envisioned this day as a child.

As the two of you swayed slowly together to the tune of your wedding song, Bachira pressed his forehead to yours. Instantly, it was like you were the only two there. Bachira said I love you in your favorite way.

"I'm so glad you're my best friend."

[wynnyfryd]

let’s get experimental, baby

1.9k | E | gratuitous f/f steddie smut | ao3

(written for @steddie-week and cross-posting here for @mrsjellymunson pspsps)

“Are you insane? I can’t just—!” “Yes, you can!” Robin runs her hand down her face, tugging at the skin, clearly done with the conversation. “For the last time, she literally winked and gave me her number and said, and I quote, ‘pass that along to your little lost sheepie.’” “Oh, gross.” “I know. This whole thing is gross for me, honestly, so just— ugh. Just shut up and call her. God, I’m such a good friend.”

“Just shut up and call her,” Stevie mocks under her breath, goosebumps pebbling her skin as she wraps her arms around herself and waits for someone to answer the door. The tank top and running shorts made sense when she left the dorm earlier to play frisbee, but now, with the stars peeking out behind thick clouds and a humid breeze rolling in, she feels a little exposed. Underdressed. Inappropriate, the echo of her mom’s voice chastises in her head. Just a sunburned, silly straight girl, shivering on a stranger’s doorstep with her tits spilling out of her sports bra. Oh, god, she should uncross her arms. She should leave, actually, because this whole thing is stupid, and she’s—

“Hey, there.” 

Eddie swings the door wide open, leaning her shoulder on the frame with an easy, inviting grin. If Stevie’s outfit is inappropriate, then Eddie’s is a downright scandal. She’s not wearing a shirt, for starters, just a tight sports bra that cuts off some tattoos and accentuates others, a riot of black ink on pale skin, soft and stark contrast sprawling over her shoulders and curling around her ribcage, snaking down her sides to slither over sharp hip bones, just visible over a pair of low-slung black sweats. 

Stevie’s mouth is so dry. “Hi,” she squeaks.

Eddie’s eyes glitter in the low light. “Oh, you’re cute.” She sounds pleased. Almost predatory. “Come on in.” 

She steps to the side, bowing a little in a sweeping gesture of welcome, and behind her, a guy with black hair down to his waist leans over the coffee table and rips an insane hit off a three-foot-tall green plastic bong and starts coughing like he might die while another guy pats his back in sympathy. 

“Oh.” Holy shit. “Um.”

Eddie follows Stevie’s gaze; barks a loud laugh and a Jesus Christ at the opaque cloud hanging in her living room. “My roommate, Argyle, and my roommate’s roommate, Jon,” she smirks. “If you can see them through the smoke.”

“You want some?” Argyle offers when he finishes coughing, already working to load another bowl. 

“I’m good.” She scrunches her nose. “Wait, your roommate’s roommate?” she asks Eddie. “But wouldn’t that make him…?” 

The guy, Jon, looks up at her and laughs, holding up air quotes as he turns his attention to Eddie, clearly repeating something he’s heard a dozen times. “Nah, ‘cause I’m ‘not on the lease, I just never leave their house.’” 

“Would you prefer I call you what you really are, huh?” Eddie narrows her eyes, playfully mean. “Snack thief? Squatter? Good for nothin’—”

“My sad boy musical stylings enrich your life, and you know it.” 

Another laugh — full volume, all teeth, her chest bouncing with it. Stevie likes how expressive she is. How free. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie tells her, “they were just heading out.” 

—

“So, how do you want to do this?” Eddie asks after they leave; sitting side by side on the sofa, close but not quite touching, one arm draped casually over the back of the couch.

Steve tries to calm her breathing. Can’t quite manage it. “I— I was hoping you’d tell me?” 

“You were hoping I’d tell you how you want it?” Eddie teases, big, dark eyes running all over Stevie’s face. Stevie flushes bright red — stupid, stupid, oh my god. Why is she so bad at talking? Why did she even agree to this at all? “Hey,” Eddie pulls her back to the moment, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingers are warm, the nails bitten short. “I’m good with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.” She stretches her arms back out over the couch. “Got a lot of experience DMing, so. I don’t mind playing the narrator if that’s what you’re asking for.” 

“I don’t know what I’m asking for,” Stevie mumbles, embarrassed. She doesn’t even know what half that sentence meant, but something about Eddie’s casual confidence makes her want to learn. 

“Listen,” Eddie chews her lip. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I’m not gonna, like, pressure you or whatever, so uh, if you just want to sit here and talk, then we can—”

“No! No, it’s—” A nervous giggle bubbles up. Oh, my god. She cuts herself off with a sharp exhale, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling and her shoulders down her back and willing herself toget it the fuck together. She’s Stevie Harrington, damn it. She knows how to get laid. “I want to do this,” she says, steady and sure. And she should end it at that, but then: “You’re super hot and I want to let you do whatever you want with me, which honestly? I, like, was not expecting that reaction from myself when I agreed to this, y’know? So that’s kinda crazy — and also I don’t really know what my options are here, like I understand the anatomy, obviously, because I have the same stuff, but I don’t, um— and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or say the wrong thing or—”

God, is she Stevie Harrington? Because she’s pretty sure Robin Elizabeth Buckley just took over control of her mouth. 

Eddie’s eyes are doing the glittery thing again. “You think I’m hot?” 

Wow. “Of course that’s the only part you heard.”

“Well, sure.” She licks her teeth, smile going cocky. “You don’t highlight the whole paragraph when you’re studying for a test, do you?” You don’t?? “Do you have a safeword in mind, by the way?” 

“A what?”

Eddie makes a muted noise that sounds a lot like Robin when she sees a service dog she’s not allowed to pet. “Nevermind. You can just say stop or tell me no if you don’t like something I’m doing, mmkay?”

“Well, duh.”

“Mm.” Stevie wishes she understood what the smirk was for this time. “I’ll check in first, too, of course,” Eddie assures, tucking her chin, ringed hand splayed over her heart. “Not gonna just spring shit on you without asking.” 

Stevie’s eyes drift down to Eddie’s chest, to the black painted thumbnail nearly dipping into her cleavage. “What if I’m into that?” 

Eddie throws her head back when she laughs, curls springing free from a messy top bun. “God, you’re cute, you know that?” Her voice dips low, raspy with want as she tips Stevie’s chin up to look at her, her tongue dipping out to wet her lips. “Fuck,” she hums, “Yeah.” 

Stevie’s breath hitches. She sways closer. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Ringed fingers slide into her hair, tugging just a little, sending tingles down her spine. “Real pretty, baby. You gonna let me kiss you?”

“Yeah.” 

Their noses brush. “Say please.”

“Eddie, please.”

—

Stevie’s gonna die. Like Argyle coughing up a lung in the living room earlier, only Stevie’s halfway off Eddie’s mattress with Eddie’s tongue between her legs and she’s pretty sure she’s about to snap in half like a glow stick and fucking orgasm to death. “Stop, stop-stop-stop, oh, my god!” she gasps, wriggling up the bed as another wave threatens to crash over her, her thighs shaking around Eddie’s ears, pulse throbbingagainst the two fingers buried deep inside her. 

Eddie pulls her fingers out and looks up with a feral grin. Red-faced, mouth shining, bangs frizzy with sweat and friction, she crawls her way up Stevie’s body, dragging a trail of wet, happy kisses up her heaving belly as she goes; ducking to kiss one breast and then the other before landing a featherlight kiss on the tip of Stevie’s nose. “All good, sweetheart?” 

Stevie giggles like a schoolgirl. God. She’s never felt like this before, didn’t know sex could be this bubbly. She feels like she’s high. “Yeah. Just need a second, I’m… Wow.”

“Hi Wow, I’m dad.” 

“Oh, my fucking god.” 

Eddie chuckles and bends to nip at Stevie’s jawline, hands squeezing at her waist, sliding down to her hips and back up, thumbs skimming the swell of her breasts. “Jesus Christ, the curves on you,” she mutters, breath hot and fast on Stevie’s throat. “So fucking beautiful, you know that?” Her tongue draws a wet line up to the skin just below Stevie’s ear, and she pauses to suck a bruising kiss there; makes Stevie squirm and whine, high-pitched, nasal noises that should be embarrassing. “Want to eat you out all night,” Eddie confesses in her ear. “Make you come over and over again on my tongue, on my cock—”

“Oh, my god.” 

“Yeah, baby?” She rocks her hips, shifts her weight to wedge a thigh between Stevie’s legs and grind down, firm, steady pressure that isn’t nearly enough. “You want to wrap your pretty legs around me and come all over my strap?” 

“Oh, fuck!” Her eyes fly open, something like panic as she realizes she’s about to come and not yet not without you inside me Eddie please, “I’m— holy shit, Eddie, please, I’m—”

She scrambles to clasp Eddie’s hand and drag it down her trembling body, squeezing the two sticky fingers and hoping Eddie speaks the language of “desperate cum bomb about to blow” — she’s fluent, apparently, because her eyes light up when she gets the message, and she wedges her arm between their bodies and slips her fingers through the slick mess Stevie’s making for her, rubbing over her swollen clit with her thumb as she hooks two fingers inside and says, “Fuck, yeah, baby, that’s it. Show me how badly you want to come, honey; come on, I know you want to, be good for me and come.”

Stevie’s whole body clenches, a star collapsing under its own gravity before it explodes across the cosmos, wave after wave of pleasure as she sobs out Eddie’s name. Eddie kisses her through it, tongue slipping into her mouth in rhythm with her fingers, fucking her slow and sweet and good, no one’s ever been this good before, and Stevie imagines this moment from Eddie’s point of view — how it must feel to make a pretty girl shiver and shake apart, how God must feel when he makes stardust. 

“Holy shit,” Stevie stutters on a winded laugh when she can speak, chest heaving under Eddie’s comforting weight. She kinda likes the way their boobs squish together. “That was…”

“Wow?” Eddie supplies, rolling off to lie on her back. 

“So wow,” Stevie nods. 

They catch their breath in comfortable silence for a second, and then Eddie hops up; comes back with a warm washcloth and a bottle of water. “So,” she says, dragging the damp rag over Stevie’s inner thighs, “I take it the experiment went well?” 

“Who’s experimenting?” Stevie jokes, sitting up to take a sip of her drink. “I think I’m ready to propose after that.” 

“Ha!” Eddie smacks a playful kiss to a mole just above Stevie’s knee. “Maybe dinner first.” 

“I’d like that.” 

It’s too sincere, maybe — too honest, laying all her cards face up on the table, which… historically hasn’t worked out so well for her. But she’s pretty sure the deck is in good hands this time around. Gentle hands with pretty rings and blunt black nails, and when Eddie answers her eyes shine like the night sky. “I think I’d like that, too.”

[moistcl1tikal-ao3]

Okokok what about older stepbro!Schlatt x fem!reader but he's really mean and likes to humiliate her. 🧍🏻‍♀️

Like, mans takes his opportunity to act out when Reader is in a stereotypical position like being bent over in the washing machine 👀

stepbro 🧍coward . make em related /hj

anyway this turned out less "omg stepbro" and more bully vibes. sawwy

-

You were just trying to do laundry. That was it, nothing serious, just laundry. The only problem was, you were vertically challenged, and your nice new panties had gone and glued themselves to the bottom of the top-loading washing machine. The rest of the laundry was loaded into the drier already, but the damn underwear was just out of your reach.

"Ooof," Your stomach ached as you leaned over the edge, trying to reach for the damn underwear as your toes left the ground and kicked in the air for balance.

Your face was red from being upside down, but it got even worse when you heard a low chuckle behind you.

"Oh, that's a little pathetic, huh."

You shot up, banging your head on the agitator as you fell back to the ground. You groaned in pain and the laughing behind you only got louder.

"Fuck off."

"Such language!" Your stepbrother placed a hand against his chest in mock affront. "Should've expected it from you, though."

You were so pissed it made you forget you were in nothing but a sports bra and pajama shorts, the only things you'd had left after the laundry. Not exactly something you'd want to wear around the college guy that had just invaded your house only a few months ago. "Excuse me?"

"Shut up. Here, you need help? I'll help you out. Sibling bonding, ain't that what your mom wants?" Jay leered down at you, filling the doorway of the laundry room with his broad shoulders.

You realized that he was about to see the lacy little set of underwear you'd bought just recently and your face went hot. "No, I got it, don't--"

Trying to deny him only made it worse, his grin widening as he walked to the washer. "Oh, no, baby, I insist. Really. I'll get it."

You tried to move him out of the laundry room but he simply moved you aside, reaching down into the washer and pulling out the panties. They were a light purple, all lacy and delicate and oh god you were gonna throw up-

"Oh wow," he turned them around and held them up to the light as you tried to grab at them, failing to move his arms. "didn't know my baby sister was such a slut. I mean, makes sense, look at you."

"Give me those, you fucking perv!" You yelled, balling up your fist to sock your stepbrother in the stomach. He doubled over briefly, but once you caught his eye you knew you'd fucked up. He squeezed the underwear tightly in one hand as he grabbed you, bending you over the washing machine.

"Don't be so fuckin' loud, hey? You wouldn't want to get me in trouble, would you?" Schlatt hissed, grabbing your neck with one hand. You froze, then very gently shook your head.

"Good. Good girl. See, you can learn." He balled up your new expensive panties and shoved them into your mouth, making you gag on the water and detergent taste. You could only feel the heat of your stepbrother's body against yours as tears pricked at your eyes. His hand came down to rest against your ass, rubbing before delivering a harsh spank to one cheek.

"Mmph!" You whined, trying to wiggle free of his arm's grip around you.

"Oh no, sweetheart, no no no. I'm gonna teach you exactly what happens to sluts in this house." His hand wound up for another smack and your heart sank as you realized you were in for a long afternoon.

[euphorajeon]

taste your whiskey kiss | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff (?) | college!au, boxer!jk

— word count: 1.2k

— warnings: long-haired, glasses-wearing jk, annoying jk, oc still wont admit that jk is hot, jk is supposed to be a cs student, making out, mention of oral sex (f. receiving), this is plotless honestly i just miss boxer!gguk T_T

— summary: long-haired jeongguk is a menace. long-haired, glasses-wearing jeongguk is even worse.

— author's note: boxer!gguk is back at last! sorry for the (again) weird summary though. i wrote this in one sitting after that YTC in Busan episode came out and jeongguk blessed us with him wearing glasses :))) anyways. hope you enjoy!

— tags: @dunixxd

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

“Glasses?”

You look up to accept the peck your boyfriend gives you as a greeting while he hums a confirmation, the object perched on his nose knocking against your nose lightly. It’s sled down his nose so much that he looks like a grandpa from your point of view.

“Since when do you wear glasses??”

“Since my mom decided that putting my eyes five centimeters from my computer screen is not good for my sight.” Jeongguk’s hand moves to his nose to adjust his glasses. “She said my codes would never work if I keep mistaking commas for periods.”

You let out a sigh as he takes a seat on his desk chair, his computer displaying lines upon lines of codes you’d never be able to understand.

“You could zoom in, you know, instead of doing a staring contest with the screen,” you say matter-of-factly, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Jeongguk spins his chair around just to give you a one-eyebrow-raise.

“And where’s the fun in that?”

The playful smirk he sports afterwards makes you roll your eyes, not getting why your boyfriend enjoys flirting with danger like that.

“Besides, I can’t see the whole code if I zoom in. Hard to see where it went wrong.”

“Yeah, keep making excuses until you go blind,” you frown as you look at his eyes behind the round lenses. “I won’t help you if you run yourself into a pole.”

Jeongguk shakes his head in mock disappointment. “That’s harsh, babe.”

“That’s your reality if you keep damaging your eyes.”

“Why are you suddenly so hostile? It’s just a pair of glasses.” Jeongguk runs a hand through his long hair, visibly getting frustrated with your elevated emotions.

“I don’t know!” Oh, you do know. “Just— get back to your codes. We can talk about this later.”

“I have something else to do later,” your boyfriend bites back with just as much fervor. “But sure, I can spare some time to talk to you about my glasses.”

He turns back around in his chair and you’re left to stare at the black wavy hair that curls around his nape as he types away on the keyboard.

Despite your denial earlier, you know exactly what got you so worked up like this.

It’s the same thing you felt when Jeongguk first showed up on your doorstep with piercings and a tattoo sleeve, the same thing you felt when he provoked you in the gym, the same thing you felt when he dyed his hair to your favorite color.

You hide behind worrying for his wellbeing when all you want to do is scream how hot he is to his face.

It’s truly unfair how your boyfriend manages to look so hot even in something as simple as a pair of glasses. A pair of prescription glasses at that, too. That combined with the long hair that frames his handsome face perfectly might just be the death of you. It takes everything in you not to pull him away from his coding assignment to tug at his hair as you explore his mouth with your tongue.

Your mind is reeling thinking that all of this is just because one single pair of prescription glasses. And the hair too, you guess, but it’s not like you haven’t experienced what long-haired Jeongguk is like in bed. (He made sure you know that he was a menace a few weeks ago when his hair only reached a bit below his ears.)

By now, you should be immune to whatever shit he’s going to pull, yet here you are.

Half an hour pass before Jeongguk stops typing and lets out a sigh, turning his chair around to face you once again.

“I can’t focus when I know you’re upset with me.” His tone is curt, like you being upset is wasting his time. “So talk.”

“You’re the one who asked me to come, then you blame me when you can’t focus?” you scoff.

“Didn’t think you’d get upset over my fucking glasses.”

“You’re only wearing glasses because you’re too stupid to think that exposing your eyes to such short distance to your monitor is not gonna damage them! You’re the reason why I’m upset!”

“Oh really? Isn’t it because I look too hot in these glasses but you have too much pride to say it to my face?”

You force yourself to sound firm in your one-worded response. “No.”

“No? As in you don’t wanna make out with me right now and fog up my glasses?”

“N-no.”

You’re wavering. It’s over.

“Okay.” Jeongguk shrugs. “I want to make out with you.” The stare he gives you is piercing. “So climb onto my lap and let me take those feisty bites I know you’re dying to give.”

It doesn’t take a second for you to leap off the bed onto his lap, crashing your lips to his in a mess of teeth and tongue. Feels like dejavu when you tug at his lip ring hard enough to make him let out a whimper of pain.

“Why are you so annoying?” you manage to say in between kisses. “If you wanted to make out you could’ve just said so from the fucking start.”

Jeongguk hums, hands on your waist to pull you even closer to him. “You’re more fun when riled up.”

You grab a fistful of his hair and yank hard upon hearing his reason. “Say that again and I’ll withdraw any form of physical intimacy for a month.”

“See?” He grins. “Feisty.”

“Fuck, just kiss me.”

He does, biting your lips and licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue you can’t help but moan. It just fuels him even further to tighten his grip on your body and steal all the breath away from your lungs.

“Should I— fuck— put on the tongue piercing?” he asks when you roll your hips against his, creating a delicious friction between your bodies.

“No,” you pant. “That thing is— wait.” You pull away a fraction when you remember his words from earlier. “Didn’t you say you have to do something else?”

“Make out with you.”

His lips chase yours but you evade them, confused. “Huh?”

“My to-do-list. For today. Make out with you. Nothing else.”

You let him capture your bottom lip between his lips to suck and chew on like a kid would to a jelly while you contemplate the meaning behind his answer.

Once you understand, you deliver a harsh bite to his bottom lip, making him hiss (in pleasure or pain, you don’t care.)

“Yeah, babe, hurt me with your mouth,” he moans, but it doesn’t last long as he pulls away with another hiss.

“Ah, gotta take these off though, it’s digging into my nose.”

He slips the glasses off his nose, a faint red mark from where it pressed too hard on his skin. You move to place a soft kiss against the flesh, a stark contrast to how you’ve been kissing each other seconds ago.

“That’s what you get for being annoying.”

“Your kiss? Yes please.”

“Shut up.”

He dives back in for your lips, but barely a second pass when he pulls away again, making you groan impatiently. “For someone who wants to make out with me, you sure are pulling away a lot.”

“Just thinking,” he says. “How about I put on the tongue piercing and eat you out until you beg me to stop? Last time you only lasted three, let’s make it five this time, hm?”

You give him six.

a/n: i haven't written in 4 months so i apologize that this is bad hehe. thanks for reading! any feedbacks here will be appreciated :D

[diorsluv]

die for you , part 2

“ no point in turning off the lights ”

series m. list previous chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by ilia_quadg0d_malinin, lhughes_06, jpav8, and 299,193 others

yourusername i flew all the way to virginia to try pairs skating with him.. then we got forced into a mock comp. NEVER AGAIN.

(photo evidence of him death glaring me when i asked him to carry my luggage 5 feet into the house)

tagged: ilia_quadg0d_malinin

view all comments

ilia_quadg0d_malinin YOU KEPT FALLING OFF MY SHOULDERS

→ yourusername YOU COULDN’T EVEN BALANCE WHEN WE WERE HOLDING HANDS

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin BECAUSE YOUR HANDS WERE SO SLIPPERY

→ yourusername FYM MY HANDS WERE LITERALLY NUMB.

username26 first post in so long that trev HASN’T liked 😭😭

wyattjohnston_ LMFAO DID HE DROP YOU ON YOUR FACE AGAIN

→ yourusername no 🤬

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin AGAIN?? last time i didn’t drop her on her face it was just her head 😔

_alexturcotte it’s the next vasilisa and valeriy in the making

→ yourusername how the hell do you know who they are????

→ _alexturcotte i’ve been doing my research 😈

→ yourusername then maybe you’ll be a better skating partner because CLEARLY it isn’t ilia

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin BRO IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOU WERE ALWAYS TRIPPING

→ yourusername HELLO??? YOU LITERALLY TANGLED YOUR SKATES IN MY BLADES

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin SAYS THE ONE WHO CRACKED HER SKULL OPEN TRIPPING OVER HER LACES AS A KID

→ yourusername THAT’S A FAMILY LIE I SWEAR

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin THEN WHY DO THEY ALL CALL YOU LACEY FUCKING DUMBASS

→ yourusername they like to bring up my past trauma… 😔

jackhughes someone’s a little jealous

→ username84 😟

→ username55 TREVOR?

→ username23 IS THAT WHY HE DIDN’T LIKE THE POST

→ username93 mhmm and who are we talking about here let’s be REALLLL specific 🤨

username44 all trevor’s friends are dropping the fattest hints rn

username92 AWWW yall are so cute

→ yourusername no not cute i think he’s trying to murder me

matt9duchene you better come back home before we play the ducks

→ yourusername I WILL I WILL don’t worry 😔

→ hhinee i know you wouldn’t want to miss that oppurtunity

→ yourusername i won’t miss it i swear

mush__27 don’t put the poor kid to labor

→ yourusername ur right.. if he couldn’t lift my luggage how could i expect him to lift me up on the ice

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin stop calling me weak 💔

miroheiskanen hold on is he the guy you’re talking about?

→ yourusername WHAT NO i would never date his ass

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin when did this turn into you bullying me

username3 i’m sensing a glitch in the matrix why hasn’t trevor liked the post

→ username76 he’s too busy being jealous of ilia 💀

username34 ilia looks so done

username20 we need you to perform the routine RN

jasonrob19 your mom was looking at my phone and now she’s asking if you got severely hurt

→ yourusername yes i got really really severely hurt and i need motherly assistance rn

jamiebenn14 this isn’t the boyfriend?

→ yourusername NO HE’S NOT 😭😭

→ wyattjohnston_ it’s the other ice sport

→ tseguin92 speed skating??

→ logan.stankoven no the OTHER other ice sport

→ jpav8 ice soccer?

→ t.harley48 the other OTHER other ice sport

→ matt9duchene ohhhh curling?

→ yourusername oh my god…

colecaufield blink twice if you’re being held hostage

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin BLINK BLINK

→ yourusername he’s just trying to get attention

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin ????

username47 tell me you’re considering doing pairs again 🙏🙏

→ yourusername idk about that one… (please god no)

nickrobertson01 remember when you fell on top of me and almost cracked my head open when we were kids

→ yourusername remember when i said i have 10x more blackmail on you than you do on me 😍

→ jasonrob19 actually i’m the one with all the blackmail

→ yourusername shhh you know nothing

trevorzegras

liked by jackhughes, colecaufield, yourusername, and 292,268 others

trevorzegras 🦆🦆

view all comments

jackhughes numero 11 stays on top 😮‍💨

→ colecaufield 22 is arguably better

→ _alexturcotte u just doubled the number bro

→ colecaufield bc i’m doubly better???

→ trevorzegras uhhh is that even a word

username31 is trevor in his aesthetic era???

username97 i love the ducks but their jersey is such a jumpscare

yourusername let’s go fucks

liked by trevorzegras

→ yourusername oh my god i meant ducks

→ yourusername there goes my reputation

→ colecaufield i love the anaheim fucks 🔥

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin i wasn’t gonna comment on the post but.. how’d you manage to screw up this badly

→ _alexturcotte tell me you’re stupid without telling me you’re stupid

→ yourusername WHY ARE F AND D RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER

→ trevorzegras LMFAO that’s cute

username25 bro really thought he could sneak in that lipstick stain pic

→ username72 more evidence that him and lacey r dating fr

mush__27 excited to play you next week!

→ trevorzegras thanks man

username2 oh lord the stars are commenting now

colecaufield when you come to montreal we’re gonna have a nice long chat in a dark closet where there’s nowhere to hide

→ trevorzegras oh

→ trevorzegras again?

→ colecaufield “again”????

→ _alexturcotte oh it’s okay i already did that 🤗

wyattjohnston_ 🦆

→ trevorzegras ⭐️

_quinnhughes i hope you know i’m praying on your downfall

→ trevorzegras i’ll be forever grateful. 😐

username67 they gotta be fucking on the dl

username21 tell me she’s not getting railed after every game like hello?? insta interactions don’t lie ❌

→ username50 that’s so specific.. 😰

jamie.drysdale we will we will quack you ‼️

→ trevorzegras ducks wannabe 🙄🙄

→ jamie.drysdale okay i see how it is..

lhughes_06 $200 is on the line dude

→ trevorzegras you’re the ones placing bets it’s not my fault if you lose all your money 🤷‍♂️

→ jackhughes $250 now cuz u mentioned it to him 🙄

→ _quinnhughes i’m gonna be SO unbelievably rich

anaheimducks and when did you go on a cruise?

→ trevorzegras 🤫

→ anaheimducks 🧏‍♂️

→ masonmctavish23 please for the love of god stop mewing it’s not funny

tseguin92 i got my eye on you kid

notes ) ew ew ew i don’t like it but it is what it is

tags: @dancerbailey3 @lexihowardsgf @bunbunbl0gs

[viburnt]

Midoriya I.|| Childhood promises

Type: Headcanons+Snippet

Genre: Fluff

Characters involved: Midoriya Izuku (main)/Uraraka Ochaco (secondary on the reading bite)

Prompt: As kids, Izuku gifted you a plastic ring and told you he'd marry you in the future. Now it's a recurrent joke to call each other fiancé.

• It happened when Izuku was 7; the street fair was nearby and his mom had given him some money to spend with you on treats and games. He was so excited, his hand timidly holding yours as the hanging lights guided your way

• One of the stands had caught his attention: it was a lucky duck pond, one of those games where you need to catch two different rubber duckies with the same number to win. 3 chances, no skills involved.

• “Do you think if we get our lucky charms together, we could win a prize?” The lucky charms in question were an All Might collectible card and a snail shell you found at the park.

• The freckled boy was enthusiastic about it, confidently paying the old man running the game a couple of silver coins to play. His hands gently lowered the small fishnet provided to play. First number: 3.

• Izuku could hear you rooting for him by his side. All he had to do was get another one like that. Sticking his tongue out, praying to his All Might card, he sank the net once more. Second number: 9.

• He felt like crying.

• You patted his hand in a comforting way, threatening the nearby kids who mocked him. “Hey, let me try!”

• The result was the same, sadly. However, the old man was touched by you two that he gave out a consolation prize to lift your spirits. It was a plastic jewelry set: a silver crown, a magic wand and a couple of rings.

• The path back home didn't feel so bad after that.

• “At least the rings are pretty, do you think we could wear them at school?” You said, making Midoriya think. “But aren't matching rings for marriage? My mom says so.”

• After a brief silence, Izuku's green eyes lit up, feeling a slight wave of nervousness as the words rolled out of his mouth. “Then I'll marry you! W-we can wear them until we grow up and then get m-married!”

• Your face felt warm as you heard him speak, feeling his hand eagerly placing the silver ring on your left hand.

• Ever since, neither of you take the plastic piece off, even if it's old and the colors washed out. Not to mention that the whenever you see each other, the word “Fiancé/Fiancée” rolls out of your mouths.

—Hi! If you have a moment, I'm looking for a person. Do you think you can help me?

Ochako heard with attention as you spoke, tilting his head at the style you sported. Compared to the gray uniform and green tie U.A students wore, your clothes were more of an Eastern streetwear.

—Uh, sure thing! Who are you looking for?— The brunette said with a sympathetic smile. —Are they from 1st year or 2nd?

—Izuku Midoriya, 1st year!— The name popped out of your mouth, catching Uraraka's interest.

—Really? He is from my class! I'll take you there.— She offered, making you feel relieved. —Are you from his family or something? I don't think he mentioned any siblings or cousins.

You snorted a little, deciding to play a little with the round-faced girl.

—He is my fiancé! I came to visit him.

The way Ochako's jaw dropped almost had you rolling on the floor laughing, but for the sake of your little joke, you kept a straight face.

—Fiancé?— Her voice stuttered. You nodded, showing off the little plastic ring you always carried. —Since when? How did that happen?

You tapped on your chin as if thinking.

—Since kids, we promised each other. We'll be hitting it off as soon as he graduates.

Uraraka couldn't hide her shock.

—Oh, there you are! I see you've met one of my classmates already.— Izuku's voice popped in, joining the conversation as he walked towards you. —Did you have trouble finding the classroom building?

Ochako's finger pointed at him and then to you. It didn't take much for Midoriya to connect the dots.

—You just had to tell her, didn't you?— He muttered, eyeing you with an embarrassed face. — Uraraka, let me explain…

—Wanna come to the wedding?

Like my content? Comment and follow! The feedback encourages me.

[huntedhauntedhunter]

I have TADC agere headcanons...if anyone cares (prolly not haha)

Posting on art blog because I post my agere art here sometimes, so why not headcanons and writings too?

Will be tagged properly so you can blacklist it if you want.

Age regressors: Gangle and Pomni (FT. YOU)

Caretakers: Jax (yes and I will explain more later), Ragatha, and Zooble

Grandparent who spoils the agere and helps the caretakers: Kinger

I don't have...a spot/hc for Caine yet...sorry...feel free to tell me what you think he'd be good as though, and why/how!

------

🎀Agere Gangle: Its kind of obvious and she's not oblivious to it or in denial. She loves agere and finds it comfty and safe. She loves to draw for hours and have playdates with Pomni (she actually convinces Pomni its ok and to do it.)

I HC her caretaker as Zooble, who can be romantic or platonic! I just think Zooble would be a good caretaker for her.

📐Caretaker Zooble: Zooble is...meh about it on the surface. They don't care and they don't think they need to be so public about it. But once in the headspace, they're kind of like...a cigerette mom? Where they're sarcastic about everything, and they question almost all of your choices with a specific type of judgementalness...but they really care and if anyone (Jax) fucks with their baby, it's gonna go down.

Having Gangle as their little really opens up a protective side they didn't know they had in them. Beating the shit outta Jax becomes a more common occurence.

🤹🏻‍♀️Agere Pomni: Pomni is def in denial, and it takes a LOT of convincing from Gangle (and gentle coaxing from Ragatha telling her it's ok) to really let themselves get into it. She is very shy and anxious about it. At first she was paranoid about others finding out (namely Jax), but one Jax finds out and she becomes accustomed to...him, she really gets into. I feel Ragatha would be the best caretaker, whether platonic or romantic (altho I personally lean towards romantic!)

🔪Caretaker Ragatha: (Knife emoji is for a few reasons haha) I've seen everyone under the sun HC Ragatha as a caretaker...and so they've pretty much already said everything and I agree! Gentle, loving, sweet, but also firm and no nonsense. Her and Jax get into a LOT of fights over the littles...like, a lot. It's like watching two parents at a sports event scuffle over whose kid is better.

♟Grandpa Kinger: I HC Kinger as a grandpa figure. He isn't really a caretaker, but he spoils the littles and plays along with everyone whether he actually knows whats going on or not. Def lets them hide in his pillow fortress, whether to play in, sleep in, or be naughty and hide from their caretakers in. Teaches them about insects...plays silly games with them...etc.

🐇Caretaker Jax: OK...this one is purely for me and I have a lot amusing scenarios with Jax in which I think he'd be a fun and unique type of caretaker...So hear me out...(Since I don't see him as a caretaker for anyone in the circus, section will be xreader, sorry! I made him a caretaker for me, but if anyone does read this and enjoys it...here you go.)

It'd start with him finding out about you being an agere. And in typical Jax fashion, he would mock, berate, and tease the hell out of you every single chance he got. He would def make you cry and be paranoid, because he would go through your room and nitpick anything and everything he found.

Slowly though, and I mean SO slowly you wouldn't even notice it was happening...he would insert himself as your caretaker. Like, I'm talking he would just find amusement in teasing you and playing the part, making you upset and then saying shit like "what, aren't I a good daddy?" when he "helps" you fix the problem he caused...or sushing you by sticking a paci in your mouth, or threatening to spank you if you annoy him just a tad.

He would eventually just. Go to the playdates and sit between Zooble and Ragatha and just...start pretending he's your parent. Behind your back. You wouldn't realize he's doing this or talking about you in this way for awhile. You'd only realize it one day, when you Pomni and Gangle are having a fun competition, and you hear Jax yell at the others about how "his kids the best and gonna win", or some sports dad shit.

You don't know how to confront him, TBH...I'll let you insert how you'd personally confront him.

He's super teasing, loves having excuses to "punish" you (usually puts you in a poorly made baby jail), and acts like a mix between a deadbeat dad who only intercepts when he feels like it, and a protective dad who feels like he has to fight everyone about you being better than all the other "brats".

(Sorry the Jax part is so long, I just have lots of feelings about it...and IK the fandom would see "caretaker Jax" and laugh at how absurd that is which is fair, it's meant to be absurd! That's part of the fun and why I enjoy the idea so much.)

Anyways...yeah...that's it...just need HCs for Caine and Bubble and I'll be set....Sorry for how long this is and if you for some reason decided to read it...wow.

[a-polite-melody]

RE: That afab transfem post, I think it's wild to see people in the notes claiming that no afab perisex person has ever had femininity denied to them and masculinity forced upon them bcs like...hello, I am an afab perisex person who as a child was, for whatever reason, deemed a failed girl by the adult women in my life who then proceeded to deny me femininity to the point that my hair was cut against my will, my dresses and skirts literally taken away, I was forced to wear ugly unisex clothes I hated while my female siblings and cousins got cute dresses, my parents wouldn't let me pierce my ears no matter how much I begged despite every other girl I knew having earrings, and was not taught any stuff that women tend to teach their daughters. The first time I went bra shopping, I was alone, and ended up wearing a too-small sports bra until it was falling apart and a friend offered to teach me how to buy a properly fitting one. I had to beg my mom to teach me to shave and she kept saying she didn't want to the whole time. No one even offered to teach me to make my hair nice or put on makeup or how to pick out flattering clothes. I guess they just decided I didn't need to know all that. And hell, my expressions of femininity were legit punished by my peers. I got mocked relentlessly every time I dressed femininely, girls at school spread rumors about me secretly being a guy, the idea that any guy could ever like me was apparently hilarious, I never even risked attempting to wear makeup because I knew what would happen if I did. Hell the one trans guy I knew(who was not out at the time but still dressed almost exclusively in guy's clothing) had more people trying to force femininity on him than I did. I don't ID as transfem, I'm genderqueer and transmasc(and when I came out my sister kinda implied that she's never really felt like I was a Girl in the first place which...she means well but it was weird to hear) but the idea that this sort of thing only happens to trans women/fems is just completely false. Despite being afab, the society I was raised in did not view me as a woman or want me to be one, and they treated me accordingly, to the point that sometimes I wonder if my current gender identity was one I was born with or simply a result of me having femininity denied to me until I decided trying to earn it wasn't worth the trouble. I genuinely feel like I have a lot in common with trans women/fems, at least in the ways we were raised, and I admire them for finding joy in femininity when I never could and probably never will. It does make sense to me that some afab people could feel the label transfem applies to them, and drawing lines between trans and nonbinary and genderwhatever people based on assumptions regarding what's in their pants feels so pointless.

.

[medusapelagia]

Learning to Love 2

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,..)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve /Billy Tags: enemies to lovers, mention of parent's death (Steve's mom), mention of domestic violence Words: 1870

Harrington's place is a solitary house in the middle of nothing, surrounded by the woods and nothing else. Billy appreciates the privacy; no noisy neighbors that might call the police if they hear a few screams, like it wasn’t a normal thing, and no one around to see him limp the day after. Not bad at all.

Neil was even proud of him when he told him that he was going to tutor the richest boy in town.

He literally said, "Kid, I'm proud of you." Which is a first in Billy's life.

If the big house and the heated pool didn't give away how rich Harrington's family is, the doorbell would, it sounds like the doorbell they have in the old big mansions and Billy is almost expecting a butler in a pressed uniform showing him the living room instead of his schoolmate.

"You came." Harrington says, almost surprised.

"Told you I would. Are you disappointed, pretty boy?"

Steve shrugs, moving from the door and gesturing to Billy to get inside. The house is super modern and cold, the living room seems ready to be the set of a sitcom, the kitchen is so clean that it almost shines and Steve's room is the most boring room he has ever seen; there is nothing personal, not a trinket, a picture, a sporting trophy, nothing at all, just a desk and few books there are lying on the side.

"Do you want something to drink?" Steve asks, annoyed.

"I'm not here for a courtesy visit, I'm here to help you because you are too stupid to do your fucking homework and you need a babysitter." Billy snarls, ready to fight, but Steve doesn't take the bait, he sits at his desk and stares at his books.

"Where would you like to start?" He asks, pointing at the pile of books.

"What do you need more help with?"

"Math."

"Let's start there."

Steve takes his book and opens it, staring at the first problem.

"Come on! It is an easy one!" Billy sighs, taking the book and quickly solving the problem while Steve stares blankly at him "Can you just concentrate a little for Christ's sake! You didn't even write the right numbers! Are you stupid? Can't you copy some fucking numbers?"

Steve flinches, moving away from Billy. Billy sighs, this is not going well. He takes a deep breath and thinks about the waves of the ocean, trying to calm himself and when he feels a little bit settled he asks "Why... why didn’t you write the correct numbers?"

"I did!" Steve replies, "I can copy some stupid numbers, ok?"

Billy stares at him for a long moment and he sees how the boy squints while reading.

"Do you wear glasses?" He asks and Steve glares at him.

"Of course I don't, jackass!"

"Well, maybe you should. Have you seen a doctor recently?" After Billy broke a plate on his head.

"I... I don't like doctors." Steve confesses blushing in embarrassment.

“Are you scared of doctors?” Billy mocks him and Steve turns his face, avoiding Billy’s stare “Are you serious?” 

“I’m not scared… I just… I don't like them.”

Billy stares at him for the longest time before Steve finally cracks. “When mom went to the hospital… she never came back, ok? I know that’s stupid but I can’t deal with the smell of disinfectant ok? And I’m young and healthy, I don’t need a doctor!”

Billy can understand the fear of the doctors, the few times Neil brought him there with a broken arm or to fix his nose, he was always terrified that those doctors, who asked so many questions about how he got hurt, would have taken him away. Living with Neil was no fun, but living in a foster family didn’t sound much better either.

“I’m not saying you should do a complete checkup, I’m just suggesting that you might want to see an eye doctor, so maybe everyone will stop thinking that you’re stupid.”

“I don’t give a shit about what everyone else thinks about me! I was their fucking god and now what? You came to town, took my place and all my friends forgot about me. I guess they weren’t my friends after all and you are not my friend either! And I don’t need to study all this stupid shit because I’m going to work with my father as soon as I get out of high school! So what the fuck do you want from me? I’ll give you a good review, I’ll say that you were the best tutor ever. Let me copy you from your test and we’ll be good!”

Billy shakes his head “No.”

“What?!”

“No. I will not let you copy from me and I don’t give a fuck about your stupid opinion of my tutoring skills. I just gave you a suggestion, you don’t want to follow it? Fine.” Billy replies, ready to get back to his place. Harrington is avoiding his stare, he is clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles are white.

“Stop being such a baby. You can’t take any criticism!”

“What about you? You come here, to my house, telling me that I’m either stupid or blind! What did you expect?” Steve snaps.

Billy gets up, grabs his things, and pushes them in his backpack. Fuck Harrington! Billy doesn’t have to help him! He doesn’t owe him anything! It’s not his fault if his sight is shitty!

Only… maybe it is.

Only… Steve actually tried to help Max.

Only… Billy is not the dickhead he pretends to be.

“I could… I could come with you.” He suggests, keeping his back to Harrington, his hand on the handle of the door.

“And what? Hold my hand like a fucking child?” Steve snarls, throwing what’s left on the desk to the ground.

Billy dares to turn, this time it’s Steve who has his back turned. “If that’s what you need.” Billy steps forward, not daring to touch the other boy but wanting to let him know that he is there, that he is listening “Where is your father?”

“Russia? China? Don’t remember. He must have written it on the calendar, I don’t really check anymore.” Steve replies and Billy sighs. He never really understood how lonely Steve must feel now that his friends have turned their back on him and even his girlfriend left him.

“Was she worth it?” Billy asks, and Steve’s shoulders stiffen “Was she worth losing your privileges? And your friends?”

“If I lost my friend it is not her fault. She is… She was… well, she was everything I wanted, the only problem was that I wasn’t enough for her.” Steve says in a self-deprecating tone. “It’s the story of my life. I’m not bad, but I’m never enough, no matter how hard I try. Even my father thinks that I’m not enough and he should know, right? He is my father.”

Billy gets closer to Steve and forces him to turn toward him, “Listen to me. You are the only one who knows your worth, ok? Not Wheeler, not your father, not those stupid boys at school! And if you keep repeating to yourself that you are not enough, you’ll end up believing that! So look me in the eye and tell me something good about you.”

Steve tries to free himself from Billy’s grip “What the fuck? I don’t do this stupid shit. If I needed a therapist…”

“Look me in the eye and tell me something good about yourself.” That’s a game Billy’s mother made with him every time Neil belittled him, and it worked every single time.

“I… I…”

“One thing, I know you can do it.”

“I’m… I’m brave.”

Billy smiles “Yes, you are. Good job, Harrington.” He tells him, patting his back, ready to leave.

“Hey…” Steve calls him, finally getting up from the chair. “Would you like to stay for dinner? I was going to order pizza and watch a movie.”

Billy stops, wondering if Neil would get mad at him “Can I call home? I’m not sure if Susan already cooked.”

“Sure. The phone is in the living room.”

Billy and Steve get downstairs and Billy calls home, it’s Susan who answers and tells him that Neil is not home yet but that he can stay out for dinner, he just has to be home by ten. 

They order pizza and watch a movie and for Billy it is the first time ever. He never invited anyone to his place and he didn’t get invited much, always too unpredictable to be invited to someone’s home. Maybe that’s why he and Steve are perfect; Steve feels like he is not enough, and Billy feels that he is too much.

“Will you book a visit to the eye doctor? I’ll drive you.” Billy asks while they are watching an action movie.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either, so Billy nods and goes back home. As soon as he enters his father calls him, asking him where he was, and when he tells him that he was at Harrington’s house his father seems really pleased. “Those rich boys are always stupid, aren’t they? But my boy is so clever that he is the one who is going to help that stupid kid. You’ll do great things, I know, you are just like me.”

Every time that Neil says that they are similar Billy feels some disgust about himself. He doesn't want to be like Neil, and even if he knows that his outbursts are so similar to the one his father has, he is trying his best not to become like him. Waking up one day and seeing Neil Hargrove in the mirror is Billy’s greatest fear. Not being beaten to death by his father, not getting married to a woman he will never love because he likes boys, not being trapped in a life he knows he will hate every single day. The only thing that terrifies him, the only ones he prays from every night, kneeling on the side of his bed, folded hands and eyes closed, is not becoming like his father. 

He always lived a life where he was always ready to fight for dominance and he is so tired of being alert at all times.

Max is sitting next to Susan, watching a television show together, “Steve’s house is so cool, right? Did you see the heated swimming pool?”

“We studied, I wasn’t there to have fun.”

“I know…” Max snorts “I just thought that maybe… but you are right. You are no fun!” She rebukes, finally leaving him alone.

Billy’s room is full of music posters, he has a big stereo and a vanity made with plastic crates where his few precious belongings rest: a strong male perfume, the same brand his mother bought him years ago, and the golden necklace he received as a gift for his christening.

He stares at himself in the mirror, somehow he feels a little bit less angry and skittish, is it possible that spending time with Harrington might really be beneficial for both of them?

[xsweetcatastrophe]

You Broke Me First

part 5.

Zoe had a habit of making everything look perfectly fine when in reality, she was dying on the inside.

On the outside, she looked like she was ready to take on the day. She walked down the hall to Donna's office, with a Starbucks coffee in hand. She had black tailored pants and a grey mock neck shirt tucked into the waist. her hair was in a low bun with some hair out, framing her face. She wore minimal makeup, just some concealer and blush on her cheeks and nose. She wore small gold hoops, and a matching chain-link choker necklace. Her heels clicked as she walked, getting closer and closer to Donna's office. A couple of the junior associates in the cubicles she passed looked at her. With the way Zoe was walking, they would think she had it all. The perfect job, perfect boyfriend, perfect life. They would think she woke up super early that morning, and took a ride on the Peleton bike she probably owns or maybe went to a pilates class. They would think she's like one of the girls in those rom coms, who live in the beautiful brownstone with the man of her dreams.

The reality? Zoe was hungover.

Zoe was hanging on by a thread.

Zoe fell asleep and didn't do her hair, that's why it was in a bun.

Zoe woke up in a pool of sweat because her stupid AC shut off in the middle of the night.

Zoe was wearing a sports bra under her shirt because she forgot to do laundry.

Zoe did NOT have it all... no, if Zoe had anything, it was anxiety.

Zoe stopped in front of Donna's door, and took a deep breath. She knocked a couple times and waited.

"come in" she heard on the other side.

Zoe pushed open the door and plastered a smile onto her face.

"Good morning! how was your week-" Zoe started and immeidately stopped.

Donna's office was large, with her desk in the middle of the room with floor to ceiling windows behind her. To the right was a couch and coffee table. To the left, was a heavy oval oak table with 6 chairs. Donna sat there with who she presumed was Hannah Woods... and Cillian.

Zoe's stomach did that thing again where it dropped to her knees. She made eye contact with Cillian and Cillian immediately looked at his shoes.

"Hi hun, come sit down" Donna waved her over, motioning her to a chair... a chair next to Cillian.

Zoe made her way over and sat down, her body almost slightly leaning away from him. If it was up to her she wouldn't be in the same room as this man ever again.

"Hi Zoe, My name is Hannah and I'm Cillian's publicist" Hannah said, introducing herself and holding out her hand. Zoe took it and smiled, taking in the woman in front of her. She had blonde hair, and too white teeth. She was skinny and her makeup looked airbrushed on. She looked like someone that wasn't speak to Zoe if they were still in high school. I bet her AC works, Zoe thought.

"Ms Woods emailed me yesterday morning with some concerns that i'd like to discuss with you," Donna said calmly.

Zoe always loved Donna. It had only been 3 years, but she really took her under her wing. She always asked how she was doing, and she didn't mean about work. Donna knew Zoe's mom lived far away and, since Donna wasn't able to have children of her own, gravitated towards Zoe. She had a maternal side she never got to show, and I guess with Zoe she got to show it. Zoe didn't mind, she welcomed it.

"Well, let's just get it out - seems like you two had a hell of a Saturday night" Hannah exclaimed, breaking the ice. Donna chucked, but Zoe and Cillian did not.

"It wasn't a night, it was just drinks at 6pm..." Cillian said, still looking at the floor.

"6:30. It was supposed to be 6, but you were late remember?" Zoe added, without realizing how immature it sounded.

"anyways....." Hannah continued, looking at both of them, " Obviously this doesn't look good. This isn't good for Cillian's current image, especially with what is going on in his life. You guys were spotted, and the tabloids already have pictures they are going to run tomorrow" Hannah said, opening up a folder she had brought and handing Zoe photos.

Zoe looked at the photos and her stomach... well, you know what it did.

When Zoe heard that they were spotted, she assumed the bartender opened her mouth. There wasn't a lot of people in the bar, and she doesn't remember anyone young enough to give a shit if Cillian Murphy was in a bar with a girl.

But these photos weren't in the bar.

These photos were them outside on a side walk, VERY drunk.

Well, Zoe knew she was drunk, but to the naked eye, people might think she looked... dare I say, happy?

Cillian had her arm around her shoulder in one pic, with her hand reaching out to meet his hand. She was mid laugh and Cillian was looking at her with a smile on his face. Another photo, they were holding hands, walking into the Hilton. Fuck, Zoe thought. That one's bad.

Then she saw the third photo.

Paps weren't allowed in the hotel lobby,but they stood outside and shot in through the windows on the revolving door. There, you could see Zoe at the front desk, with Cillian behind her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against him with his lips on her neck. ok, so it gets worse, Zoe thought.

"Donna," Zoe started, pushing the photos away. "I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. This is so extremely unprofessional and I promise nothing like this will ever happen again."

"I know it won't" Donna said, toeing the line between boss and mother figure. "Hannah and I have been on the phone all Sunday about this. She's concerned for Cillian but I'm concerned for you. This won't look good for you when they run this story. They'll know you work here and they'll be relentless with trying to get to you"

"How can we make this go away?" Zoe said, trying to think fast. She wanted out of here. Did someone turn the heat on? She felt sweat drip down her back. Her heart was beating so loud she was convinced Cillian could hear it.

"Well, the tabloids need an answer from me by 3pm today" Hannah started, pulling out her phone to check the time. Don't be dramatic bitch, it's a 10am meeting Zoe thought.

"An answer for what?" Zoe said, confused.

"Who you are"

"....Who I am? Why do they need to know?"

"because if they don't they're gonna make it seem like you're a booty call" Cillian interjected, Zoe half forgot he was at the table.

"Ok, no" Zoe started, eyebrows furrowed "Can't you just say you were at an interview?"

"yea great idea, oh wait, i forgot, I don't sleep with people I do interviews with" Cillian shot back.

"Well apparently you do" Hannah interrupted, seeing things were going to get touchy. "And It's my job to make this look as normal as possible"

"And how do you do that?" Zoe asked. There goes her gut again. Something wasn't right.

"Well.... Donna and I talked.. and we think it's best for both your publication and Mr. Murphy's image to tell the tabloids that.. you're a girl Mr. Murphy is dating" Hannah said slowly.

"HAH" Zoe laughed out loud, she simply couldn't hold it in. "no really, what do we do?"

"Zoe" Donna said, in her mother tone. It was a warning, and Zoe didn't respond.

"Mr. Murphy is in the middle of a divorce. it should be finalized soon, however between his movie coming up and his ex-wife having the tabloids on speed dial, him 'letting loose' with an interviewer isn't the best for him right now" Hannah slowly stated. "And, on the other side, Donna feels like this isn't the best representation for your publication, and we came up with a gameplan" Hannah continued, standing up and starting to pace.

"What we tell the tabloids - you and Cillian have been dating for a little over a month. You met at a party last year and have remained in touch. You re-connected and have been casually getting to know each other"

Zoe was holding her breath. She was pinching her thigh. Surely this was a dream. She'll wake up. Just keep pinching.

"You guys lay low, maybe doing a dinner once a week to show you guys out and about. Hopefully after a couple weeks, they leave you alone and all this fades away. If not, we'll do a breakup announcement. I don't want this lasting longer than 3 months, tops." Hannah concluded.

Zoe was still pinching.

"What do you think?" Hannah said, after a moment of silence from everyone in the room.

"This.. can't be real" Zoe said slowly.

Hannah chucked. "you'd be surprised. Do you think Ben Affleck and Ana De Armas REALLY dated during Covid? They're both my clients. That was a 6 month agreement, I don't want to do anything that long" Hannah said proudly.

"Told you to get a fucking seltzer" Cillian said, finally looking at Zoe.

"Will you give it up with the fucking seltzers already??!" Zoe snapped, while Hannah said "what seltzer?" at the same time.

"Zoe" Donna said, putting her hand on top of hers. "I need you to think about this. I know this isn't what you want. But it's temporary. And it's for the publication. And it could quite possibly save your career, who knows what those monsters will say" Donna said."

"Can i.... Can I think about it....?" Zoe said. If you were wondering if she was still pinching her thigh, don't worry - she was.

"No" Donna said, taking her hand away. "If you say no, we will unfortunately have to terminate your employment as you violated your employee guidelines"

"what??? Donna, you can't be serious, it was a mistake" Zoe exclaimed.

"Is there really an employee rule to not sleep with interviewees?" Cillian interjected, half laughing half serious.

Zoe looked at him, then looked back at Donna. "Come ON" Zoe said.

"I need an answer, and I need it now.. remember, they need an answer by 3" Hannah interjected, pointing at her phone.

"It's not even noon!" Zoe yelled, getting frustrated.

"Zoe" Donna said, loudly. "That's enough"

Zoe turned to Cillian, lightly hitting him in the shoulder.

"And what about you? don't you have anything to say? Why am I the only one in here answering for us? You're okay with this??" Zoe said to him. Cillian's head shot to her.

"Are you kidding me? I bet you got to enjoy your Sunday. Hannah called me an hour after you left. I've been hearing all this shit since yesterday. I got nothing left. I have no control over it... trust me, I tried real hard" Cillian snapped.

"She'll do it" Donna said to Hannah, answering for her.

"Great, I promise this will be over before you know it" Hannah said, pulling papers out of her folder - a contract. Similar to an NDA, going over the terms of the agreement and what she was allowed to say to people and what had to keep confidential, which was pretty much everything.

The next twenty minutes were a blur. Legal was called in, and went over the terms of the agreement with Zoe while Cillian's lawyer called in and was on speakerphone. Paperwork was signed, hands were shaken. The deal was done.

Zoe sat there, dumbfounded.

"Zoe, take the rest of the day off. Actually, don't come in this week. I'm going to re-assign your assignments to some of the junior associates - they need the practice. You guys should... get to know each other" Donna said, as if she was trying to be cute about the situation. Cillian and Zoe just stared her down.

Zoe and Cillian stood up slowly, and Cillian made his way to Donna's door, opening it and waiting for Zoe. Zoe slowly walked out, and they both made it to the lobby and pressed the elevator button.

"I can't believe this is happening" Zoe groaned to herself. She wanted to go to sleep. She wanted to wake up in her shitty apartment, with her broken AC and shitty couch, and eat shitty leftover Chinese food and enjoy her mediocre life. Oh, how she missed it in this moment.

"Yea well, trust me I'm not thrilled about it either. Lets be civil and get this over with" Cillian said, waiting for the elevators to open.

"Sorry" Zoe snapped. "Pardon me if I don't know how to navigate my first fake relationship. Please teach me, oh wise one" she said sarcastically.

"Well honey, I never had one either, so we're both new to this" Cillian said, stepping aside and letting Zoe step into the elevator first. "We skipped around and got sex out of the way, But I suggest we start with the basics"

"Basics? like what?" Zoe said, still dumbfounded.

"Well" Cillian said, stepping into the elevator.

"For starters... what's your last name?"

tags: @lau219

[nerdieforpedro]

Get to Know Me Tag Game

I was tagged so I'm doing it. I'm malleable that way, you know?

Thank you @bitchwitch1981 for the tag 😎

1. Were you named after anyone?

I was named after a voodoo priestess from the movie "Angel Heart." The character Lisa Bonet played. My mom is a special lady. 🤣

2. When was the last time you cried?

Sometime in the last week of 2023 when I wrote that post about my mental health journey. It was...good to write out, but a lot.

3. Do you have kids?

I have none of the tiny humans.

4. What sports do you play/ have you played?

I was allergic to them, they made me itch. I read and played video games instead like the recluse I am.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

I may, at times. Usually people don't take me seriously when I'm being direct, and they think I'm being sarcastic.

6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Eyes, nose and stance. Tells me if I need to keep myself between them and the exit. 👀

7. What's your eye colour?

Light brown, similar to honey. 🍯

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings. It's sappy, but I like them. I will mock both horror and happy ending equally.

9. Any talents?

I can have my fingers inside you, while asking you follow-up questions, also a knack for calming sick elderly people and finding that tricky spot where the catheter goes. 🤣🤣 (I described my job in the worst way possible)

I can sing a little. I'm funny. I teach fairly well.

10. Where were you born?

United States - Maryland

11. What are your hobbies?

Listening & singing to music, writing and reading fics, day dreaming about Pedro Pascal & Oscar Isaac, watching TV, going to the movies, burning candles, reading manga, playing video games, painting my nails.

12. Do you have any pets?

The state of my houseplants have indicated to me that no matter how much I wish it, that alone will not sustain life for a dog or a cat. 😞

13. How tall are you?

5 foot 3 inches (I'm short and round, like a rolo or peppermint patty.)

14. Favourite subject in high school?

Science (Anatomy and Physiology)

15. Dream job?

Professional fanfic writer who gets paid in the number of WIPs I have. (So I would be making millions by never finishing any work.)

NP tags: @maggiemayhemnj @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @megamindsecretlair @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @goodwithcheese @secretelephanttattoo @avastrasposts @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @rhoorl @laurfilijames @alltheglitterandtheroar @avastrasposts @atinylittlepain @beefrobeefcal

[betterbooktitles]

On looking older than I am:

By the time I was a teenager, I’d fully accepted my early adulthood. When I wasn’t playing a sport or acting in a play, my number one hobby was taking a John Updike book (sorry) to a coffee shop. I frequented a place within walking distance of my house in Cleveland called Talkies. I sat at the front bar with my book and ate a second lunch at 3 PM. I talked to random people sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes inside. One was a researcher at Case Western who studied molecular biology. He seemed to know no one in Cleveland except me and the baristas. Another guy was a white dude with dreadlocks, a gifted actor who bussed tables at the fancy restaurant next door. Every barista was a 20-something woman who told me about their various trysts in graphic detail. Multiple times the men offered me cigarettes or to split a joint outside. No wonder it took me years to finish one of the Rabbit novels. I was soaking up more than enough adult content in my real life than any book could offer.

The oddest encounter occurred at a hotel in Annapolis, Maryland when I was 15. I attended a boys’ catholic prep school and because my parents and I were taking a few college campus tours during our family trip, and you never know who you might bump into, I chose to wear the tie and khakis I would normally wear in class. I had chosen an aqua shirt with a bright textured gold tie that morning and was still wearing it when I approached the front desk that evening. I promised my English teacher I would have a late assingment on his desk Monday morning despite my travel schedule. I had finished writing it on my mom’s laptop and put it on a flash drive. 

“Is there an office in the hotel with a printer?” I asked the woman at the front desk. I deepened my voice. “My boss needs this report ASAP.”

The woman behind the desk wore a maroon and beige polo shirt with the name of the hotel embroidered on one side and a fat plastic name tag that read “Jess” on the other. She kept her curly brown hair tied back behind her head and looked like she was ready to take a nap rather than help one more jerk fix his malfunctioning room key or find the hotel’s office. She smiled though and led the way. We walked through a large banquet hall that looked like it was hosting a wedding or prom. Pink uplighting and one of those whirling balls with differently colored light filters spun around and painted the room. I watched fat white men in suits sip cocktails out of plastic cups and flirt with young women half their size and age. A number of them wore saris. 

“What is this?” I said aloud. 

“It’s a party for the IMF.” the woman said. “You’re not with them?”

“No, I’m on a different kind of work trip.” I said.

She kept walking until we found a door on the side of the room. Bright tube lighting poured into the mock nightclub when she opened it. I hurried in so as to not disturb the party atmosphere too long, and to my surprise, she shut the door behind us and stayed to watch me use the office. 

Computers in 2002, especially out-of-date communal ones used by everyone in a hotel, were not very fast. The fat glass monitor was already on, and when I opened the browser, I had a good two minutes to chat, which the hotel employee seemed keen on doing.

“So where are you headed?” She asked.

“Well, it’s here tonight, then New York, then upstate somewhere, back to Cleveland.”

“Busy weekend.” 

“Yes, we’re- I’m trying to squeeze in a lot.” 

We talked about my work. I vaguely said I was on a deadline for a writing assignment which made me sound like a journalist or someone with an entry-level publishing job. At some point, she said she was glad I wasn’t with the loud bankers because I seemed too nice and cute to work with them. 

Was this happening?

I found my little essay about Chaucer and clicked print. As a printer the size of a Fiat whirred to life and started pumping out the pages, the woman said: 

“I’m actually off the clock now if you want to have a drink with me.”

“I’d love that,” I said.

I put the essay in a folder (not a professional manila folder, a high school-ass, bright glossy blue folder with my school’s logo on it) and followed her to the hotel bar.

I ordered a beer in the annoying fake way people do in movies: the actor walks up to the bar and instead of checking what’s on tap or thinking of their brand of choice like ‘Bud’ or ‘Stella’ or even naming a type like ‘stout’ or ‘pilsner’ the actor confidently says “I’ll have a beer” and the extra playing the bartender wordlessly gets to pouring.

“I’ll have a beer!” I said to the bartender who squinted his eyes at me and cocked his head. 

“OK…” he pointed at Jess, who still had her uniform and name tag on. 

“Jack and Coke, Ben.” 

I sipped the beer slowly. We drank and talked about work and if Jess was going to bite the bullet and go to grad school. She asked if I wanted, when we finished our drinks, to go with her to a house party up the street.

“We can smoke a bowl, listen to my friend play some music. It’ll be fun.” she assure me.

“I really shouldn’t,” I said, “We’re- I’m… I have an early morning.”

“Ah,” she said, looking down at her drink.

I now realize that every coy excuse I made sounded like I had a girlfriend or wife at home and I maybe had a problem with drugs and alcohol that might make me do something I regretted. I was playing an adult better than I ever had in my life.

“So, someone is with you in your room, then?” Jess asked nervously.

“Yeah. There are people in my room.” 

And here, dear reader, I’m sorry (or happy) to tell you that I fessed up.

“I’m staying with my parents.” I said.

“Oh. That’s sweet. Are they meeting up with you on this trip? Where are they from?”

“We drove here together from Cleveland, actually.”

“Oh, OK.” She said, looking confused.

“I- You see. I’m not on a work trip. I’m seeing schools.” I looked at the bartender who was pretending not to listen on the other side of the empty bar.

“Grad schools?”

“No. Listen. Sorry. I’m in high school.”

“Wait- how old are you?”

“I’m 15.”

“Jesus. Uuughh!” She leaned her torso over the bar as if she was fainting, and looked up at me with one eye over her glass. “Oh, boy. I know how to pick ‘em.”

“I look older,” I said, consolingly. 

“Yes. You do. Oh, God. Wow. OK. Ummm.” She sat up and did a little drum roll with her hands on the bar.

I chugged the rest of my beer. 

Read the rest of the essay here.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

It's a Marshmallow World - Harrison Knott x Reader

A/N: My entry for @lewmagoo's Christmas Celebration, I wanted to keep it cute and fluffy and I figured since the movie is filmed in Hawaii, I'm making it that Harrison is from there too.

pairing: Harrison Knott x gn!reader

warnings/content: none, winter/Christmas-themed fluff, probably inaccuracies about Hawaii and snow (I'm Canadian but I tried researching???)

word count: 1.5k

“Ugh, I hate this song.”

You rolled your eyes as you heard the opening bars of John Lennon’s “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” playing from the wireless speaker sitting on the kitchen island. You pressed skip on your phone, shaking your head at each song after’s opening notes before finally settling on one. Harrison leaned forward on the island’s countertop and raised an eyebrow at you as he spoke.

“You’re not serious, are you? This is a classic one. Next you’re gonna tell me you hate It’s A Wonderful Life too, aren’t you?” He said teasingly, his deep blue eyes meeting yours with a questioning stare, eyebrows cocked slightly in mock disbelief.

“Of course you like It’s A Wonderful Life.” You retorted, rolling your eyes once again at your boyfriend’s taste in all things…well, old.

Harrison was an old soul when it came to just about anything relating to pop culture. He was the only person you knew who actually preferred cassette tapes and vinyl records, even CDs to streaming his music. He was one of the only people you knew who still had access to a VCR and a tape deck. He still created mixtapes over playlists and you’d almost always find him sitting on the couch watching some old movie you, and everyone else in your age group, had probably never heard of. It was part of his charm and allure for you - you loved that he was into the most niche interests, that he was always introducing you to new things, giving you a newfound appreciation for media you’d otherwise never truly encounter on your own. Before Harrison, you didn’t even know there were several channels on television dedicated to just playing classic films on a 24/7 basis, or that recording a song to a cassette tape from CD was a whole process, crafting the perfect mix was either a carefully throughout event, or a completely spontaneous act, recording whatever felt right. It was never anything inbetween - curating a collection of songs that worked together to tell a story was a work of art in itself, one that Harrison had mastered somehow. 

“Please, everyone likes It’s A Wonderful Life.” He scoffed.

“Not everyone, Harrison. Pretty sure you’re the only person under 50 who loves it.”

“Listen, it’s a great movie. We could sit and argue all day long about it, but it’s a classic for a reason, baby. Jimmy Stewart is unmatched. Meet Me in St. Louis is another great one, my mom always loves that one.” 

“I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned White Christmas yet.” 

“About that. I like it, don’t get me wrong. But I’ve never actually experienced a white Christmas, so the movie’s magic is sort of…lost on me,” Harrison frowned, shrugging his shoulders.

This was his first Christmas since moving across the US from his hometown in Hawaii to Washington, D.C. for medical school, and you knew better than anyone else that he was dying to see snow for Christmas. In fact, he was about the only person in the city who was sad when the weather forecast had predicted that Christmas morning would be uncharacteristically mild and sunny. Normally, he wouldn’t care what the weather was, but this time, being so far from home and not being able to get back for the holidays this year, he longed for the snow and winter sports he’d been promised when he had looked into the weather in D.C. before moving there. He sighed as he looked out the window each day as Christmas drew closer, with not a snowflake in sight. 

Harrison turned his attention back to washing up the dishes from tonight’s dinner. You padded along the hardwood flooring to the living room, looking out the window as you bit your lip absentmindedly, watching the sky for any sign of snowfall to appear. You furrowed your brow at the clear night sky, stars twinkling brightly as they dotted the darkness outside. You closed the curtain, smiling softly to yourself as you nodded your head once. You had an idea - a pretty farfetched one, but, one that would surely make Harrison feel a little less disappointed about not seeing his first white Christmas this year. 

You disappeared upstairs, searching the house for the tote of spare holiday decorations you had stashed away, unsure of where to place its contents earlier when you were in your decorating frenzy a few weeks ago. Rummaging through the plastic storage bin, you pulled out a large piece of white felt, intended as a base for your mom’s handmedown Christmas village that you’d set out every year as a child. She’d gifted it to you, and although you loved it, your small apartment didn’t have the space to display it. However, the extra fabric and faux snow and ice that came with it, you now knew exactly what to do with. 

Taking a pair of scissors, you began crafting and cutting the felt into snowflakes, thanking your lucky stars for your education degree and chosen career path of becoming a kindergarten teacher, allowing you to get creative at lightning speeds when required. Each piece of felt that hit the floor beneath your feet would come in handy, adding to your false winter wonderland that you were creating. After a few minutes, you’d created a few large snowflakes and a decently sized pile of scrap pieces small enough to sprinkle along the floor to mimic freshly fallen snowflakes in your living room. 

As Harrison was distracted with dishes and tidying the kitchen up, you got to work, hanging your felt snowflakes from some ribbon you’d found, leftover from Christmas wrapping, the strings dangling from the door frame, hanging down to look like falling snow. You sprinkled your pieces of felt along the floor, creating what would appear to anyone else, as a complete mess, but to you? To you, it was the white Christmas that Harrison had always hoped for, or at least, the best alternative you could create for it. 

Once satisfied with your makeshift snowfall, you set your speaker up in the living room, setting up a winter-themed playlist on your phone. You practically skipped your way out to the living room, calling Harrison’s name in a cheerful, sing-song lilt as he finished cleaning the kitchen counter.

“Harrison! Come with me for a sec, ok?”

Harrison raised an eyebrow at you, his toned biceps flexing as he folded his arms across his chest, his caramel brown sweater tightening on the curve of his muscles as he did so. Harrison reluctantly closed his eyes and took your hand, following you into the living room. As he opened his eyes, he went silent for a moment, before bursting into a laugh, shaking his head as he smiled and looked around.

“What is this?” 

“Your white Christmas that you wanted. I can’t make it snow, but I can pretend to at least, I figured it’s something better than green, muddy, mild weather outside.”

Harrison remained speechless for a minute before laughing again in disbelief.

“You’re something else, babe, but I appreciate it.”

As Harrison wrapped his arms around you tightly, he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin gently as he hummed softly.

“I love it, thank you.”

“I know it’s not much, but, I know how badly you wanted to have snow for Christmas too.”

Harrison continued to press his lips against your neck, leaving feather-soft,  gentle kisses to you, showering you with affection in thanks for your consideration towards his feelings. You knew a makeshift mess of felt and some kindergarten-level snowflakes weren’t going to make everything better, but, you made him smile, and that was all that mattered to you. 

As Dean Martin’s voice crooned out the beginning of It’s a Marshmallow World on your playlist, your eyes darted to the window once again. You couldn’t help but laugh half-heartedly as you shook your head, giving Harrison a playful swat on the arm to get his attention. His lips peeled away from your neck just long enough for him to gaze out the window, his eyes widening as he made his way closer to the glass to get a better view on what was happening outside. Large, white, fluffy specks were falling from the sky, beginning to coat the ground below in patches of white. 

“It’s actually snowing!” Harrison said with a childlike excitement to his voice, shaking his head as his sapphire blue eyes remained wide and full of wonder as he watched the snow falling, essentially, for the first snowfall he’d ever witnessed. 

You joined Harrison’s side at the window, unable to do anything but smile at his sheer excitement at the weather finally granting his wish two days before Christmas morning. You knew there was always the chance it could be gone and melted by tomorrow, but you didn’t want to burst Harrison’s bubble. Not tonight.

Tonight, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him even more as he watched the snow land on the ground, covering everything in a blanket of white as Dean Martin continued to sing in the background.

“In winter it’s a marshmallow world…”