#I would...probably say i liked perfect blue more if i had to pick

[surpriserose]

Yeah paprika was pretty good

[absfawn]

slight continuation for this bestfriend!abby drabble

bestfriend!abby who, after a few weeks of that night, which was spent fucking herself to the mere thought of you, can’t seem to look you in the eyes whenever she’s near you. you occupy her mind a little too much, always creeping into her head even when she’s trying to ignore those rush of thoughts, to ignore the rush of heat between her legs when you look over at her, mid read of your book, bite your lip and giggle. somehow unaware of how badly she has it for you. but she can’t seem to stop, no matter how hard she tries. most days she’s focused on the way your lips wrap around your thumb, sucking the sugar off your skin when you’re done eating the strawberries she picked up for, and wonders how it would feel to have those same lips wrapped around her clit, messily licking at her cunt. she wonders how it would feel to feel the way you slip your fingers between her folds and right up to her clit, teasing her. abby can barely ever focus on whatever you say to her because she’s always too occupied thinking about your cunt pressing against hers, grinding into her without a single thought in your pretty head.

her mind spirals the day she finally sees you. her baby blues finding it hard to look at your face, more or so sneaking glances at the sleep shorts, legs exposed fully for her eyes and hers alone. she wonders what your skin would feel like under her touch, what sound you would elicit from between your lips if she sunk her nails into the skin. the words are coming out your mouth, but they don’t reach her ears, her lips wedged between her teeth and she’s thinking about your thighs tightly wrapped around her head, fingers buried in her hair, scratching at her scalp as your back arches off the mattress when she finally makes you cum against her tongue, gushing over her lips and chanting her name like it’s the only one you’ll ever know for the rest of your life. maybe she should feel mortified that she’s always thinking about you like this. you, her best friend, who knows every single thing about you. should best friends think of each other like this? thinking about them in ways that they would probably be nervous about? maybe that’s the problem, abby knows you would probably find it fucking flattering she’s had sex dreams and dirty thoughts about you.

“abby? are you listening?”

she wants to scream, yell even, but she doesn’t, she sinks her teeth deeper into her bottom lip, so hard it draws blood, and hums in your direction. “yes, what?” she grumbled out, acting so nonchalantly like she doesn’t want to pin you to the couch and devour your pussy like it was like her lifeline. “what’s up?”

there’s a glint in your eye, one she misses because she’s looking away from you before you have the chance to find her gawking, nosing through the magazines you left out on the table from last night, and shakes your head with a soft laugh. “nothing, was just wondering if you were coming out with me tonight, you remember? the party”

���the party— oh, that party,” abby sighs in realization and slumps more into the chair with a strangled groan, one that has you huffing over and throwing a pillow at her. “you know i don’t like mel.”

“no, but you like me, so you’ll come with me, right?”

abby’s breath hitches in her throat at your choice of words, and she really can’t stop the way her face heats up, surely you don’t know about her big fat crush right? before she’s pinching the bridge of her nose and shrugging. “what do i get for agreeing?”

“you can help me pick a dress!”

jesus fucking christ.

not only does she have to go through hours of you finding the perfect outfit, which she will enjoy a little too much, but then she has to witness your drunk self and the way you’ll be dancing with your friends, grinding up on them like you do every time you go and out have fun with them. she can handle seeing you in baggy clothes, but when you put barely anything on, she’s going to really have to test her patience and not think about all the sinful things she wants to do to you any time you’re in her sights.

maybe abby will need to get drunk out of her mind tonight to stop the thoughts about you that never seem to end, no matter how hard she tries. you drive her insane and you’ve got no idea just how badly.

“fine, but only because it’s you.”

[thecameronchronicles]

A Cup Of Sugar

TW: age-gap (reader's over 18.), dirty talk, sex without condom, manipulative behavior.

SUMMARY: Your next door neighbor and crush asks for a favor and leaves with something else...

A Cup of Sugar

The blue house with the white shutters has always been a staple to your cul-de-sac community since you could remember. Block parties pulled everyone together through fake smiles to save face for those who would more than likely be thrilled to not have to speak ever again. But in the politics of jealous wives and HOAs came one glimmer of peace in your existence.

The man in the blue house and white shutters.

Rafe Cameron.

He stood classified to his thoughts, his eyes always dancing over some shaven blades of grass paid to appear so perfect. He offered the waves to those to his caliber and always left you with a kind smile before slipping back inside. And this is how it had been for two decades. Since you were the little girl with pigtails who walked over with your parents to welcome him and his wife to the neighborhood before you could even look him in the eyes. And now, you dreamed of those eyes looking down on you for an entirely different reason.

You were always on the cusp of being noticed, putting increases effort when it was least expected. Even going out to check the mail you made yourself flawless in what you could, only ever getting the politeness from him.

At least until your eighteenth birthday. You caught his gazes lingering, your heart picking up speed, and his words a bit more adult than normal.

-------

A knock pulls you from the mundane afternoon where even the recent slew of TikTok trends over your FYP page do little to pass the time. Once opening the door, you silently curse not giving yourself a once-over in your camera before pulling it open.

"Mister Cameron. My dad isn't here..." The corner of his lips pull upwards.

"I know. I'm sorry to bother you, uh...do you have any sugar?" You stare, helplessly lured and anchored into the beckoning of him. Having always been attracted to the forbidden man across the street of blue eyes full of intimidation and cautious hands silently strong, you find it difficult to keep from showing it.

"Sugar? Um...let me check..." You move inside and hear him follow in uncertain steps before the door finally closes.

Once you come to the cabinet full of baking ingredients seldom used, already aware if you have any sugar it is probably more in brick form than edible, you play the time anyway to keep him in your company.

"Is Madison making something for Cheer or-"

"Let me help..." He stands behind you, shadowing you enough to nearly swallow you in his height alone, as he reaches over the cabinet.

"This cabinet?" You nod, facing him. His smirk remains on you as he makes no effort to actually seek out the sugar and simply holds his hand beside you as if to block you in.

"Mister Cameron..."

"Did you know that when your window is open at night that I can hear you in my backyard?" You blush, trying to imagine if there was anything embarrassing you had done. Played music too loud? Argued with your (now ex) boyfriend and it keeping him awake? Talked to yourself? Only God, it wasn't about him was it?

"Did I? I'm sorry. If I was too loud-"

"I can hear everything from the concerts you put on...to that which you do after you think everyone has gone to sleep..." He leans against you, his cologne dizzying you.

"I..." There is no mystery to his thinly veiled innuendo.

"You heard..." You can't say the words aloud, never having the chance as nobody else has ever been so brazen.

"Everything, Y/N. Or at least enough to know exactly what it is you need..." You blink in disbelief as all words thicken on your tongue, refusing to formulate.

"I-"

"You don't have to deny it. I know exactly what you need....Let me give it to you?" You swallow hard, trying to understand how this is happening. Manifestation truly works if your silent prayers had gone unanswered.

"I don't know-"

You are lifted onto the counter and he stands between your parted legs. It is a quick moment that feels as if it is in slow motion to the feeling of his hands on you.

"You want to know what else I know?" You swallow and nod, curiosity succeeding over logic.

"You can only come with my name on your tongue..." He kisses you with intent. Not to be gentle or loving but to claim. He doesn't wait for you to find breath or even steady against him as he uses the grip on your hips to pull you to him. You hold at his shirt for stability and it only makes him growl as your nails find him instead.

"You need what only I can give you, isn't that right, sweetheart?" You nod, too intoxicated by his touch to want to tempt fate to sober.

"I know nobody will be home for at least a few hours. You know how I know? Because I made sure of it. Now open those thighs for me-" You open and he scoffs, rubbing his jaw as he sees you not only eager but ready as you've completely soaked through your panties.

"I've had to listen for months while you got yourself off thinking nobody could hear you. But I did. And I wondered if you were doing it just to fuck with me or if you were really REALLY that desperate to come...next time, you say my name I'm taking it as a call and I'll make you come. Bet this sexy fucking ass on that." He grips the part of your ass exposed to him before he leans forward.

"Because I've had to hear you and now, you're gonna show me..." He pulls your panties to the side and rubs his cock up and down those lips.

"God, you're so fucking wet, it's almost pathetic." He moans before pushing the bulbous head of his dick closer to your entrance.

"Yesssss." He hisses as you gasp. He's wide, thick, and hot in every sense of the word. The coarse hair usually hidden to the naked eye is now stroking against you as he pulls back far enough to see the slickness you left behind on him.

"That's it....coat my fucking cock." He groans as he continues to thrust brutally and withdraw in almost torturous strides as you are breathless and wordlessly in awe. It is erotic, and almost painful, before he huffs.

"You sound so much better stuffed with me than whatever you were doing. What was it? Hmmm? Your fingers?" You nod, embarrassment rising up your body.

"And it was only me you thought of, yeah? None of those useless boys who can only dream of filling you like I can, right?" When you don't answer, he grips the back of your neck. "RIGHT?!"

You nod as he hoists your flat feet up to the counter so you're completely wide to him. His speed is no longer traceable as he's just pounding into you. Hand stabilizing himself in the cabinet above you, he rams into you with the force awakening something bold within you. You claw at his back and through his hair before kissing him again, instigating it all as he reciprocates with heady excess.

"Trying to get me to notice you in those bikinis and shorts like I could ever ignore you? Fuck, Y/N you're so wet for me aren't you? Gonna come hard? Maybe I should make you wait like you made me." He patronizes behind a humored growl. His head comes back, throwing it in pleasure as his face comforts, mouth wide and almost in disbelief as he grips the flesh of your hips with a punishable clutch.

"You need to come, you come to me. For me."

"Mister Cameron-"

"You call me Rafe when I'm this deep inside of you. Understand?"

"Yes R-Rafe."

"Good. Now scream it while I make you come and then I fill you up." The kitchen shudders around you as he thrusts and retracts, in and out, hard and deep. You were already sore but now you feel expanded and exhausted as he grips the back of your neck and pushes his mouth against yours. Not to kiss, to inform, and maybe even earn through a clenched repetition of "mine".

"Say it!" He calls out as you nod, agreeing in desperation as he showcases his approval on the final snaps of his hips before you feel him flood your womb in all that you were responsible for.

"Ahh fuck, yes I needed that..." He sighs as you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out of you. Without a care to clean up anything more than the space between you, he conceals himself back within his pants and shakes his head.

"So fucking sweet." He walks to the door and you're suddenly left half naked and empty.

"Wh-what about the sugar you needed?" You question, hoping it'll make him stay. With his brilliant smile and tempting lips purposed to a smirk, he grins.

"I got what I came for,. sweetheart." You sit in awe, realizing he took more than he left, including the fact you hadn't come. It was a play for power you gave him willingly and as much as you wanted to be the one in control, you knew you'd falter against him. Having a taste of him, you were eager for the next. Suddenly addicted to the man across the street you've loved and lusted for in equal measure since you could remember...

MASTERLIST

[wikiangela]

"I'm going to ask Tommy to marry me." Buck says out of the blue one random evening, sitting in Eddie's living room, spread out in the armchair, sipping a beer, eyes on the TV, where Eddie and Christopher are playing a video game. His tone is even and firm, not even a hint of hesitation, it's not a huge revelation, or even a decision he's made just now. He's been thinking about it for weeks, maybe months. He doesn't know why he says it now, it just slips out - maybe he just needed to talk to his best friend about it.

"Really?" he hears a hint of surprise in Eddie's voice, but when he looks at his best friend, he's still focused on trying to beat his son at the game. He's smiling, sparing a glance at Buck. "That's great, Buck."

"Yeah?" he breathes out, feeling even more settled now. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but still felt kind of like he did when he came out to Eddie. Like he just wanted his best friend to approve, to support him - and he had no doubt he would.

"Of course," Eddie answers easily. "You guys are perfect together, and you love each other, and if you're sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Tommy, yeah, go for it. I'm happy for you," he adds, finally looking at Buck, a soft, genuine smile on his face. Christopher uses this moment to win the game, and Eddie groans at his triumphant yell. "Aw, not fair, Buck distracted me." Both Buck and Chis laugh, while Eddie pouts for a moment, before a smile breaks through anyway.

"Well, I won." Chris shrugs with a grin. "And I think it'd be so cool if you and Tommy get married," he adds, moving his attention to Buck.

"Yeah?" Buck repeats, his smile even wider now. Having two of his favorite people not only really love his partner - Buck's pretty sure Tommy's the first one to spend so much time with all of them together, and it feeling so right - but also approve of Buck wanting to tie him into their family forever.

"Duh, Tommy's the coolest." Chris rolls his eyes. "Better lock him down while you can," he jokes, and Buck gasps in surprise. He's such a teenager.

"Wow, rude. He's not going anywhere." he shakes his head with a laugh. That much he's sure of, for the first time in his life he's not scared of getting left, of his partner getting bored or fed up. He knows Tommy's gonna be right at his side no matter what.

"Not if you put a ring on it." Eddie joins his son's teasing. Laughing, Buck reaches over to the table to pick up a chip from a bowl and throw it at Eddie, who dodges it as it lands somewhere on the couch. "Hey!"

"But seriously, you don't think it's too soon?" Buck asks after a moment, a little bit of nerves seeping into his tone. He's more than sure about wanting to marry Tommy. He's just a little scared that he's gonna freak him out. They have talked about this, about their future, what they want out of this relationship, out of life, but they never really discussed any timelines, and Buck might be a little in his head about this. Hence why he needed to talk to someone about it, probably.

"Buck, you've been together for over a year. Some people get married after less." Eddie raises an eyebrow. "When you know, you know." He shrugs, and Buck releases a breath. Because he does know. He has known for a long time now.

"So you think he'll say yes?" Buck asks, but he knows the answer before Eddie has a chance to roll his eyes with fond exasperation. Tommy loves him. He loves Tommy so much his heart wants to burst out of his chest and live in Tommy's. Tommy is his forever, he's sure of it, and he knows that when he asks, and it's going to be very soon, he'll get a positive answer.

"He'll say yes." Eddie says with a small shake of his head and a wide smile. "Now, two important questions from me: who's gonna be your best man, and do you need help planning and picking out a ring?"

[hubbvrd]

Protecting Boyfriend | Quinn Hughes

summary — During the Canucks home game, a man says some not-so-nice words to you because you're wearing a Hughes jersey. When Quinn finds out, he does everything he can to protect you and makes sure you get the pep talk you need to hear

pairing — quinn hughes x reader

words — 2165

warning — not-so-nice- words

A wide smile formed on your lips as you entered the Rogers Arena.

Today would be the game against the Coyotes that you've been looking forward to for the past week.

You can't wait to support your boyfriend Quinn and the rest of the team live in person, and then at home, in your own stadium.

You slowly walk down the stairs to your seat, from which you have a perfect view of the entire ice.

But from your seat you not only have a good view of the field, but also of the Canucks players who are seated not far from you.

That way, if your boyfriend wasn't on the field, you'd get a good look at number 43.

You can hardly wait for the stadium to fill up and the 1st period to begin.

In fact, it doesn't take too long before the stadium starts to fill up and various people fill the seats with their jerseys bearing the shirt numbers of their favorite players.

Today you are also wearing the blue Canucks jersey with Quinn's number on it, which you wear at every game you attend.

From the beginning, it was natural for you to show up at your games in his jersey and not to wear any expensive clothes to make your appearance at Quinn's games a kind of catwalk.

There were many wives or girlfriends of players who used the games to get themselves all dressed up and did half a shooting during the game to get likes and attention on Instagram or various other platforms.

But you've never been like this before. Supporting Quinn has always been your number one priority and that will never change.

"Hello," an older man in a Canucks jersey greets you as he sits down on the happy seat next to you.

"Hello," you reply in a friendly manner and give the man a friendly smile.

As your gaze begins to wander through the now full stadium and the noise level slowly rises, you feel a gaze on you.

Slowly, you turn your face in the direction of the man who had greeted you kindly just a few minutes ago.

Now there's a crinkled look on your face as he eyes you intently and begins to make you feel uncomfortable.

You've always been a little reserved around strangers, so the words that now leave your mouth surprise you.

"Is everything all right? Or is something wrong?"

The man begins to mumble something into his beard, which you can't understand due to the volume level.

"Excuse me? What did they say?" you ask as your heart starts to beat a little faster with nervousness.

You just want to watch the game in peace, without incident.

"I said that it's obvious that you're wearing a Hughes jersey of all things, like almost all the young women here."

"What makes you think that?"

The confusion was written all over your face. Of course you know that there are a lot of fans wearing the number 43 jersey, but there certainly weren't that many in the stadium just now.

"You young women now only pick players who look good. Most of you aren't even interested in the sport itself," he rants, causing you to look shocked.

You expected anything, but not this. What is wrong with this older man? And above all, what the hell did he have the nerve to say that to you?

Stunned, you start to shake your head and just as you've thought of the perfect answer, it gets loud and the teams enter the ice.

Probably better that way, because at least the man next to you was quiet and you could more or less enjoy the game.

Because you wouldn't let him ruin the day you've been looking forward to for a week.

—

The man had actually kept his mouth shut to you the whole game.

But when Quinn scored a goal and you, like several other fans, jumped up and cheered loudly, you heard other comments coming from his direction, but you couldn't hear them over the loud cheering and music.

Now the game is over, which the Canucks won 2-1.

A broad smile returns to your face, but it is immediately extinguished when the man next to you stands up and gives you an annoyed look.

"Well you fangirl? Did you even watch and understand the game? Or were you just undressing Hughes with your eyes?" His voice growls slightly, making you flinch and reflexively wrap your arms around your body.

This can't be true. Why can't the man just leave you alone and make his way home?

Even if you were just a fangirl who was only there because of Quinn, that wouldn't be his problem.

You just shake your head and leave your seat.

As you climb the stairs to get to the exit, you try not to let on too much how much the man has intimidated you and you're starting to panic.

It's all good, y/n. Just keep walking. You'll be with Quinn in a minute, you repeat the phrases over and over in your head as you leave the stadium, a light breeze blowing through your hair.

You breathe out deeply and close your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and mingling with the crowd of fans to get to the back of the stadium.

There you will meet Quinn so that you can finally embrace him and congratulate him on his victory.

As you reach the back entrance, where a barrier has already been erected in front of the exit and one or two fans are already waiting to intercept their favorite player, you look around.

So as not to get in the way of any of the fans, you stand in the corner of the barrier so that everyone else has enough space. After all, you're not there to get autographs or photos, but to wait for your boyfriend.

But luck was not on your side. A few seconds later, the man you just met stands next to you and looks at you with an annoyed expression.

"Well, are you trying to get your hands on Hughes?" There is disgust in his voice. He speaks so quietly that only you can hear him.

Your heart begins to hammer faster against your ribs as your hands claw at the barrier and you try to stay calm.

"Stop it," you whisper on the verge of tears, which makes you angry with yourself for showing the man weakness.

But you can't do anything about it. The words and the way he treats you start to burn on your soul and reopen some old wounds.

You don't have an answer ready, but if you were honest with yourself, no perfect answer would shut the man up.

As the first players come out of the stadium and start signing autographs and taking photos with their fans, you stand on tiptoe to get a better look at when Quinn will finally arrive.

Quinn was never one of the first to leave the dressing room and then the stadium, so it would be a while before he arrived.

You would survive these few minutes - hopefully.

"Don't get your hopes up, sweetie. Hughes would never take you home," the man laughs as he steps closer to you.

"If they only knew..." You mumble, unaware that you've just spoken your thoughts out loud as you take a step to the side to put more distance between you.

"Excuse me?" the man hisses.

"I said, if they knew," you start and then gather all your courage for the next words that leave your mouth. "He's my boyfriend."

The man next to you starts to laugh out loud, attracting the attention not only of the other fans, but also of one or two of the players.

Confused, Dakota, Conor and Elias look in your direction. It took a few seconds for the three's eyes to grow wide as they recognize you and realize what's happening right in front of them.

"Hey, man. Do you want an autograph too?" Dakota asks as he approaches you and the man.

Dakota gives you a warm and gentle look, trying to make you realize that everything is going to be okay.

"Oh, I'd love to!" The man beams now and starts to engage Dakota in a conversation in which he is overly friendly.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Elias run back into the stadium, followed shortly afterwards by Quinn.

Relief spreads through your body as you spot Quinn, who looks anything but pleased.

He looks angry.

Elias must have summarized everything for Quinn.

Several fans start yelling for Quinn, but he only has eyes for you.

He approaches you with quick steps, puts his hands on your hips and lifts you over the barrier.

"Are you okay, babe?" You ask him as you feel his tense muscles under the suit.

"I should ask you if you're okay, if anything. Why didn't you say anything?" Quinn looks down at you with a worried expression.

"I couldn't have said that during the game..." you begin, but are immediately interrupted by Quinn.

"But during the break. You could have texted me or come to the dressing room."

Quinn strokes your hair gently as he continues to look at you with concern.

His muscles relax slightly under your hand, which is still on his chest.

But you know that won't last long.

"I wouldn't take her home tonight!" A voice calls out, making you flinch.

Immediately, Quinn's muscles tense again as his face becomes angry again and his hands automatically clench into fists.

"Quinn..." You begin, but Quinn doesn't seem to hear you at all.

He gently pushes you over to Elias, who has become like a big brother to you over the last few years, when you've spent a lot of time with him and Quinn.

"Elias..." You mumble anxiously as you look up at the blond.

"Don't worry, y/n. He won't do anything stupid," Elias promises you, but you're not even sure if you can really believe his words.

From a safe distance, you watch Quinn more or less stumble the man together.

As you do, you pick up a few scraps of words, like "My girlfriend...She doesn't deserve this...Greatest person on earth...Our team doesn't need fans like you..."

It's not long before the man is taken away by security and Quinn returns to you.

Sniffling, you throw yourself into his strong arms, which he wraps tightly around you and presses you gently against him.

"I'm sorry," Quinn mumbles into your hair.

"It's not your fault," you sniffle as you look up at him and see a few tears in his eyes.

"But he hurt you and said things to your head that no one should ever hear. And if you get hurt, it hurts me here too."

Quinn reaches for your hand and places it where his heart is.

"Oh, Quinn..." you whisper as countless tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

He was incredibly sweet to you and now, after you had to hear those nasty and caustic words from the man, he made sure that you were moved to tears.

"If that happens again - which I hope it doesn't. Would I like you to come straight to me, Elias or another one of my colleagues, yes?"

Quinn looks you in the eye and then kisses your forehead.

"I promise," you murmur as you snuggle back into his arms and enjoy his strong, warm arms.

All the words that had hurt you just a moment ago disappeared as if by magic while you were in Quinn's arms and enjoying his closeness.

"I want you to forget all those words that man banged on your head, y/n. You know none of those words are true. I know it's hard to get these words out of my head, but I hope they help you. You're the best person I've ever met. You are the love of my life. You're always there for me, you make me feel better no matter how bad I'm feeling, you make me laugh and just your presence makes me feel good. I love you y/n and I could go on and on, but then we'd be here until tomorrow and I hope these words help you forget all the crap he's thrown at you."

His words caused a tear or two to roll down your cheeks. You were touched by how lovingly he treated you and had the perfect words to make you feel better.

And Quinn's words actually manage to put all the man's words out of your head once and for all.

Quinn was not only your friend, but also your protector.

Even though you do this side of him and you like how protective he is of you, you hope that something like today won't happen again.

[dazedandconfused-15]

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 1)

This is to answer a request I received from an anonymous user a couple of months ago “Billy asks shy reader out and is protective over her”, for some reason I can't directly respond to their post still getting used to Tumblr. Sorry for taking a while to write this one. Anyway, I got a little bit carried away and turned it into a short fic, I just loved the whole concept. I’ll definitely post a part 2. Comments and constructive opinions are always appreciated 🩷

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

______________________________________________________________

You have always watched him from a distance.

There was something magnetic about him. Where he was, energy swirled.

You have never spoken to him. He’s something inaccessible to you. He hangs out with the popular crowd. Yet, unlike all of them, he doesn’t seem to pretend. He doesn’t show off. He naturally exudes an aura that makes him alluring. He’s not just what could be called "hot." No, he’s beautiful. When you first saw him in the school hallways, you could swear that for a second, your heart stopped. He was playing with his lighter, walking with an assured stride in the direction of his classroom with Jason Carver. He was a palette of contrasting colors that stood out in perfect harmony. His tanned face was framed by long, golden curls that almost fell over his shoulders. He looked straight ahead as he listened to the boy at his side with his red mouth stretched into a smirk that revealed white teeth. His cupid bow was dusted with stubble. It was no surprise that most of the girls looked at him with no shame, the shyest ones glancing up as soon as he passed them. That California boy did not look like a boy. He looked like a man. You could tell by the way he was built, the black leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders, the muscular legs in his denim jeans.

You had realized that you were staring openly at him when he passed by you and, probably feeling the weight of your gaze on him, his eyes had met yours. There, something had happened inside you. His eyes were the purest blue you had ever seen. They were crystalline. But it was the long dark lashes that gave his gaze something expressive and unique. They were the embodiment of what is called a piercing gaze. It was a unique paradox: as angelic as it was rough in outline. Awakening from your enchantment, you lowered your gaze with an abrupt jerk of your head and resumed putting your books away in the locker, feeling your cheeks on fire and your heart beating wildly.

That was the only time you had even a remote semblance of contact with him. 

As you rush to your English literature class a month later, rounding the corner of the hallway, the last thing you expect is to bump into him. You let out an "ouch" as you collide with his hard chest, your notes and pencil case tumbling to the ground in the chaos. It's only when you raise your eyes in a flurry of apologies that you realize who you've bumped into. You swallow, kneeling and picking up your notes hastily. 

"You alright?"

"Yes. Yes." the notes slip through your shaking fingers.

His hands appear in your field of vision, and when you accidentally touch them, an electric shock almost makes you wince. He helps you pick them up, then raises to his feet and holds them to you. You thank him, thinking about what else you could say to avoid making the situation awkward. His baby blue shirt matches the color of his eyes. He’s even prettier from closer. 

"We’re in History class together, right?

His question surprises you. You didn't think he would remember you. You didn't think he would notice you.

"Yes. That's right."

He holds out his hand, his heavy-lidded gaze on you. "Billy."

You shake his hand, introducing yourself. His hand is large and his grip his firm, but gentle at the same time. That touch makes your stomach tangle. You can't believe he is talking to you.

"You're new, right?" you ask. You know fully well that he arrived here a month ago. You know full well that he is from California. He probably knows that you know, but he doesn't say anything about it

"Yes. Moved here last month."

“Oh, okay. Welcome to Hawkins, then.” you say gently as you absently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Thanks.”

There’s a beat of silence, him probably waiting for you to say something else. You point at the door down the hallway, starting to walk away. “I ah, I have to go to class. Sorry.”

And you walk away, no, you scurry away, almost escaping him, feeling a pang of embarrassment as you replay the scene later in your head, regretting how abruptly you left without saying more. 

You don’t cross paths with him again after that. However, you are clearly more aware of his presence during history classes even though you don’t interact again. 

In recent months, you've adopted a strategy of minimizing your visibility as much as possible. It’s not always easy. That Thursday is one of the hard days. Mr. Jensen, the new history teacher, makes his way through the rows of desks, collecting permission slips signed by parents for the upcoming day trip he has organized to Indianapolis. 

"Ah, I don't seem to have your permission slip yet," he inquires gently as he sees you empty-handed. "Did you forget to bring it today?" 

Feeling the eyes of everyone on you, your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. You hate all of this attention on you. "I, um, I haven't been able to get it signed yet. My dad's been working double shifts, and I haven't caught him at home."

“I understand,” the teacher says, “But I need to give all the signed papers to the principal by tomorrow. Is it possibly to get it signed today? By your mother, perhaps?”

Before you could answer, Tommy Hagan's voice pierces the air, his tone laced with mockery. "She's probably halfway across the country by now, cozying up with some other guy."

You don’t even turn to look at him. You saw it coming. It’s been five months since she left now. Hawkins is a small town, so the news spread quickly. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding eye contact with your classmates as you feel the weight of their curious gazes. 

"I uh...I just," you try to ignore Tommy's comment, resting your eyes on the professor whose eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. "I'll tell my dad tonight. He's just been really busy. I will bring it to class tomorrow."

“If he comes back with the milk.” snickers Tommy. 

You stiffen instantly without wanting to, which the teacher doesn’t fail to notice.

“That's enough, Mr. Hagan. Comments like that have no place in my classroom.” he snaps as his eyes darken, his jaw set. His expression softens as he turns to you. “Don't worry about the permission slip for now. We'll make sure you're included."

As the professor returns to his seat, your eyes remain fixed on the spot where the desk is chipped, absently touching it with your fingernail. Your body fails to relax as you fight to ignore the burning in your throat, careful not to blink, your vision blurred for a few moments. But Tommy's yelp draws your attention and you turn your head to your left, where he is sitting next to Billy. 

“What was that for, man?”

Tommy is rubbing his shoulder, his face scrunched up in pain and a mixture of disbelief and confusion on his face. Billy stares straight ahead, his face cold and hard. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" he eventually mutters under the teacher’s explanation. However, it sounds more like a statement than a question.

As you go back to stare at your desk, your throat is still burning but your vision is clear again. You wonder if what Billy said was because of Tommy's comments. Why would he defend you? 

The rest of the class passes in a blur of confusion and unanswered questions. Tommy's hurtful words echo in your mind, leaving you shaken and upset, the sting of their cruelty lingering long after the bell rings.

***

On the morning of the school trip, you are tempted to call the school and say you are sick, but your father comes back from the plant later in the morning and will see that you are actually fine. Also, Mr. Jensen might suspect that something is going on. Only, the idea of spending the day with the whole class, but feeling more alone than you are when you're at school, doesn't appeal to you. You've never been very outgoing. Since your mother left, the armor that covered you has only thickened, alienating you from the rest of the world. To this day you have received no answers. She left overnight without warning. You never received a call. You knew that things had not been going well between your parents for some time. Or rather, your mother kept complaining about how being in Hawkins was suffocating her, how she was no longer happy. The pain was slowly becoming coated with resentment. She had abandoned you and your father as if nothing had happened, as if years of living together had counted for nothing. As if being a family had cost nothing. Arriving on the ground floor and finding the kitchen light off had now become a habit, not an odd occurrence. Other things had become routine: the unaccustomed silence in your house, the TV once perpetually on now always off, the teapot once always in use was now in the kitchen drawer. 

Once on the school bus, you spend your time looking out the window and counting the trees on the distant hills. You can feel the wind blowing outside, the rain pelting cruelly on the window. A crack lets a trickle of air through, making you shiver and clench tighter in your jacket. The ride at least passes quietly, no one talking to you or bothering you. Tommy Hagan keeps his comments to himself, too busy jabbering in the back of the bus with his band of friends. You can hear the occasional shrillness in the voice of Carol Perkins, his girlfriend. 

You spend almost the entire morning in the Indiana Historical Society, following the professor through the corridors of the museum. You stay in the background, drowning out the guide's voice and looking at the paintings hanging on the wall. As you change rooms, you realize that you are not the only one who has remained aloof. Billy Hargrove lingers to your side at the back of the row of students, his hands tucked into his leather jacket. You try not to be affected by his presence, suddenly self-conscious of the way you walk and breathe. You still remember what he told Tommy Hagan the week before. You are increasingly convinced that he defended you. As the class spreads in different directions, everyone observing something different and speaking lowly in small groups you realize he’s still here, on your side.  As you ponder if you should say something, or just assume that he’s walking behind on his own, he catches you off guard. 

“Kinda boring, huh?” 

“Yeah, a little," you respond, offering him a small smile that probably looks like a grimace. "History isn't my cup of tea."

“Mine neither,” his gaze scans the display cases lining the wall on your left. “Beats being seated all day in class, though.”

“Definitely,” you nod in agreement as you slowly cross through another room. Desperately trying to fill the silence, you come up with the first thing that crosses your mind. “I’ve been here before.”

“The museum?” 

“Indianapolis,” you say. You hesitate before finishing your thoughts. “My grandma lived here. I spent some weekends at hers.” 

Billy hums. He sniffs, then retrieves some chewing gums from his back pocket. He unwraps one. “How’s the city?” 

“It’s great. Oh, thank you.” you softly say as you take the gum he’s offering you. “There are some nice parks.” 

He pops the chewing gum in his mouth. “We have quite a few in San Diego too.

You turn toward him, curiosity overcoming your shyness. “You lived in San Diego?”

“Yes. Big change of scenery.”

“I can imagine.” your gaze wanders to the antique objects displayed in a glass case. “I’ve seen pictures, it looks incredible.” memories of your dad's album, from when he was young, flood your mind – images of palm trees swaying in the breeze, golden beaches stretching for miles, and endless blue skies that seemed to merge seamlessly with the ocean. 

“That’s something else, yeah. Honestly, I couldn’t complain at all.” 

“I wish I could see California,” you say a little dreamily. 

“I can take you one day.”

Your throat feels suddenly dry. So you let out a nervous giggle, avoiding his gaze, assuming he is joking. Fortunately, the professor calls your attention back. It's lunchtime and he tells you that you are free to go wherever you want, as long as you are outside the museum within four hours. You told your father the school would pay for the student's lunch because you know times are tough. He insisted on giving you ten dollars in case you need it.

You walk down the steps of the museum looking around and thinking about where you could make all this time go. It's going to be long. You know a few restaurants, but you know that your pocket money is clearly not enough to eat there. A gust of wind brings the smell of smoke to your nostrils, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy stop beside you. His eyes take in your surroundings.

“So, you told me you know the city.”

“Huh, yes,” you answer, a little lost. “Not all of it, but most of it, like downtown.”

Billy exhales the smoke he’s been holding in his mouth.  “Are we downtown?” 

You look around, recognizing the skyscrapers in the distance. "Yes," you point to the skyline to your right, figuring he simply wants to ask you for information so he knows where to go with his friends. "It's over there."

“Sweet. You hungry?” 

The silence that passes between the two of you makes him turn toward you, waiting for your response. So you rush to answer, ignoring the way his piercing blue eyes make you feel self-conscious.

“Yes. Yes, a little bit,” then you ask him, unsure: “...are you?”

“Starving.” he resumes walking down the stairs again, and you follow him, trying to figure out if he really means what you think he means. Some classmates are already leaving in different directions. “You know someplace to eat?” 

“I do. But I don’t have enough. In case you want to go together. If that’s what you were offering.” You add, mentally slapping yourself. Why does everything you say have to come across as weird? Besides, you just admitted that you are practically out of money. “I can show you, though.”

Billy shakes his head, shifting in his leather jacket. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s on me.” 

“No, really, I can't let you do that," you insist, your voice tinged with concern. "I mean, I appreciate it, but I can't just let you pay for me."

Billy turns to you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he exhales the smoke sideways. "Come on, it's no big deal," he reassures you. "Consider it my way of saying thanks for showing me around. Besides, it's not like I'm short on cash."

You hesitate for a moment. But ultimately, you know that accepting his offer would ease the burden on your wallet. With a resigned sigh, you nod in agreement. "Okay, if you insist," you concede, offering him a small smile. "But just this once.”

You wanna immediately grimace at your pathetic implication that there would be another time, but Billy doesn’t seem to notice anyway.

He just winks at you. And even if he’s not smiling or anything, it still makes your stomach flip. "Deal," he says. "Now, lead the way."

As you walk beside each other through the park later on, you relish in what surrounds you, not even realizing the silence that has settled between the two of you because it feels so natural. Some people are jogging, there are some families too, or people walking alone headed who knows where. The birds are chirping in the trees that are alongside the walk. You spot a squirrel scurrying up the trunk of one of them, its fluffy tail waving wildly. The late afternoon sun is shining right in front of you, hitting your skin in a gentle caress. Spring is gradually unfurling its colors, bringing with it a glimmer of warmth that has been absent from your life lately. In the midst of the cold and desolation that settled in after your mother's departure, this glimpse of light offers a tentative promise of renewal, a small beacon of hope amid the darkness that has enveloped you and your father. You glance at Billy, realizing that in the short span of your conversation, he's frequently reached for a cigarette. Yet, even during the moments when he abstained, like in the museum and at the restaurant, his mouth was never empty. It was either occupied by a mint, a bite of burger, the straw of his milkshake, or eventually a toothpick found on the table. 

“So, uhm, have you been somewhere else besides San Diego or Hawkins?” you venture. 

“Nope”, he answers, the “p” resounding loudly. He looks around, one hand in his jacket pocket as the other one holds the cigarette on his side. “Never moved from Cali. I was born in Santa Barbara. Then moved to San Diego when I was ten.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “Is Santa Barbara close to the ocean?”

“It is. I’ve always lived by the ocean.” 

You turn to him, enthusiasm laced in your voice as you get carried away in the conversation. “So you know how to surf?” 

Billy chuckles, nodding as he brings the cigarette to his lips. “I do, yeah. Surfed every day.” 

“Wow.” you breathe, your mind wandering away. “It must be…like an adrenaline rush.”

As Billy exhales the smoke, you don’t miss the nostalgic glint flickering in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. "Yeah, it's something else. There's nothing quite like catching a wave, feeling the power of the ocean beneath you."

“I’ve heard it’s hard to learn.” you muse softly. 

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps punctuates the conversation. Billy stays silent for a few seconds, probably lost in his thoughts. Then he shrugs. “To be honest, I was on the surfboard since I was a child, so must’ve been natural for me. But yeah, it generally is.

“I can only imagine," you respond, a sense of longing in your voice. You’ve only seen this kind of landscape in pictures or on TV.  "Must have been amazing growing up with that kind of freedom."

Billy's sigh is loud as he exhales a plume of smoke, his gaze drifting towards the horizon. "It was. Surfing was my escape, you know? Whenever things got tough, I could just grab my board and disappear into the waves."

What he says lightens some curiosity in you. You wonder what he means by that. You wonder what he went through, what his past was like. There’s something really intriguing about him. But you refrain from asking more, aware of how little you know each other. Besides, you can’t help but notice the little twitch of his jaw muscles as he says it. 

"It’s always been books for me.” you offer. “They have this way of transporting you to another world, making you forget about everything else."

Billy nods in understanding. “What kinda books you read?”

“Oh,” you look at your shoes as you feel suddenly vulnerable. You almost feel ashamed of your taste in books, but you know you shouldn’t. “A bit of everything, really. I’m reading a Dostoevsky one right now.

“Dostoevsky, huh? Pretty heavy stuff.”

“You’ve read some of him before?

“I read Dream of a Ridiculous Man. A long time ago though.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, recalling how challenging it was to finish it when you read it a couple of months ago. Reading books by Dostoevsky, especially that one, has been both a cathartic and enlightening experience. They made you feel less alone in your pain. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda controversial.” he grimaces. “It’s a fucking depressing book. But... it's like... there's something about it that just... resonates, you know what I mean? Like, you read it and... it's like looking into a mirror, but... the reflection's all twisted and weird. I don't know if that makes any sense.” he shrugs. 

It couldn’t make more any sense to you. For the first time, you feel understood in that sense. It's a relief to know that you're not alone in finding meaning within its pages. His words resonate deeply with you. 

“I totally get it. That’s part of the reason why I like his books.” 

The subtle revelation hangs in the air with the rhythmic sound of your footsteps on the concrete path. You hope he’s not reflecting on your words too much, aware of what you’ve implied. Your own thoughts go on what he said. Why did Billy resonate so much with the book? What if there’s something everybody can relate to, even people who haven’t experienced anything bad in life?

“You?” he then asks. “Always been in Hawkins?”

“Born and raised.” you nod. Then you add, a bit sheepishly: “Nothing like California, unfortunately.” 

Billy snorts, flicking his cigarette. “What’s there to do in summer?”

“Oh uh. Nothing much. We have a public pool.” you offer, looking at him. 

Billy takes a drag, his eyes trailing on the path in front of both of you.

“We have Lover’s Lake too,” you add. “It’s quite nice, actually. People spend the day there and have barbecues or campfires.” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that one,” he says. “You guys party by the lake during summer or something like that.” 

“Yes.” then you keep quiet for a few breaths, imagining he’s probably heard it from one of his friends from the basketball team. They’re usually to host parties or organize them. It always involves loads of alcohol and ends up in big scandals. You feel the urge to correct him. “Not me, though. I don’t, uh…I don’t party.” 

You feel his eyes on you. “Makes sense.”

You look up at him in question. 

“Didn’t see you at the Halloween party.”

“The one hosted by Tina Williams?” you soon look away as soon as you meet his gaze. “I didn’t know you…you noticed.”

“Would’ve sure as hell noticed if you were there.”

As Billy's words settle in, you feel a warmth spreading through you, starting from the tips of your ears and flushing your cheeks crimson. His simple compliment catches you off guard, igniting a whirlwind of emotions within you. You find yourself struggling to meet his gaze, your eyes flickering away as you search for some semblance of composure. None of this makes sense. The mere fact that he recognized your absence at the party, that he shared lunch with you, that he's now walking beside you in the park—it all feels inexplicable. You're accustomed to blending into the background, being an outcast in the bustling halls of the school. You're no stranger to the whispers that swirl around you, painting you as the outsider, the comments about your situation at home, the subtle jabs at your circumstances. The silence between you stretches, pregnant with unspoken thoughts. 

“You alright?” you hear him ask.

You slow down, lingering to a stop as you realize Billy has stopped walking too. He looks down at you with a hint of curiosity, the sun caressing his golden skin and reflecting in his eyes, becoming like polished, crystalline gems. That’s when you notice little details you haven’t paid attention to before. The scar cutting through his right eyebrow, the pattern of freckles dusting his nose. 

“I guess I’m just a little confused,” you admit. 

Billy exhales the smoke from his nostrils, his gaze effortlessly fixed intensely on you. “Why is that?”

“I just…” you try to not avoid his gaze. “Why are you here with me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement and what looks like genuine confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His question is so simple it takes you off guard. Makes you question your reasoning. As you’re at a loss for words, you feel a blush slowly creeping down your cheeks. 

Billy’s lips slowly curve into a smile, somewhat teasing. “You really have pretty eyes, you know that?”

You’re positively sure you’re as red as a lobster now, a little whine escaping your lips as embarrassment settles over you. It’s the most instinctual reaction. It makes him chuckle, and makes you awkwardly laugh in response, because what else can you do? He tilts his head to the side, trying to meet your avoiding eyes. 

“How about that? I’m here with you ‘cause of your pretty eyes”. 

“I really don’t think they’re that special.” you shake your head, still laughing. 

You’re not that innocent to not realise he’s openly flirting with you. You’re not surprised, because just looking at him is enough. You’ve also heard things about him and some girls at high school. What surprises you, is that he’s flirting with you. You don’t have that much experience in the love department, but there’s something sincere and genuine in the way he’s doing it now. There’s something soft in his eyes that tells you he’s sincere.

“Well, it’s a shame,” he says, that’s when you realise how much closer you are to each other. You can tell by how you can smell the tobacco and his cologne, his silver earring shining as it catches the sun. He tilts his head again, this time catching your gaze as you muster the courage to lock eyes with him. “’Cause you have beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you,” you mumble with a shy smile, nodding your head slightly. You swear you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

You feel like you want to return the compliment because his eyes are the reason why your heart is reacting the way it does. But then again, you’re too shy to do that, and a tiny part of you thinks it would make things weird or would end up having you vulnerable because you don’t know for sure if his compliment is fueled by real interest in you. 

“I just don’t hang out with anyone, trust me.”

As a distant church bells toll four times, their echoes drifting across the park, a subtle reminder of the passing time washes over you both. The realization settles in that it’s time for you to go. You should be back in front of the museum in half an hour. 

Luckily, Billy saves you from answering as he breaks eye contact and looks up beyond your shoulder, where the church is. “We should go,” he says.

As you walk back to the museum, you think about his words. Now you realize that you didn’t see him hanging around Tommy Hagan lately. In particular, today on the bus, the latter was seated with his girlfriend and hung out with two other members of the basketball team. Billy was somewhere else the whole time.

When you two reach the museum, the teacher is already counting everyone to make sure the whole class is there. Billy joins his mates, elbowing one of them in a friendly gesture. You didn’t fail the notice the looks most of your classmates shot at you when he saw you two arrive together. The teacher draws the class's attention back to the trip, prompting feedback and reflections from everyone.

What you don’t expect either once on the bus, is feeling someone sitting on the empty seat next to yours. Billy gets comfortable, making it seem something so normal as he stretches his long legs as far as the cramped quarters allow. His thigh brushes against yours and your heart jumps a little in your ribcage, but a few minutes later you start to relax. You can’t help the feeling of warmth spreading through your chest as you take in his choice to sit deliberately next to you. You don’t need to fill the silence, or at least not as strongly as a few hours ago. You’re also quite tired. As you venture a glance in his direction, Billy’s eyes are closed. It seems you’re not the only one feeling tired. His arms are crossed over his chest but his facial features are totally relaxed now that he’s dozing off, his head resting against the seat. His hair seems soft at the touch, a curl falling unruly on his forehead. You feel the distant urge to wrap it around your finger, brush it from his face. There is a difference between now and when he’s fully awake: his expression softened, his gaze peaceful, and his features relaxed. It's a stark contrast from the demeanor you've observed from a distance, where his smile is more wolfish, his facial muscles tense, and his eyes often distant or bored. You force yourself to look away from him, setting your gaze on the window. As the rhythmic hum of the bus lulls you into a state of drowsiness, you feel your eyelids grow heavy. The warmth of the moment envelops you, and soon, you find yourself dozing off as well. 

Once you get off the bus, you wrap your arms around your waist as you shiver. The weather is distinctly different. It seems to have been raining all day. The sky is darkening. School buses cannot take you home because there is no bus stop near your house. Forest Hill Trailer Park is in the isolated part of Hawkins. There is no one from the high school living there, so you can't ask anyone for a ride. It's not like anyone would have offered anyway. You've always walked to and from school, in total it takes you forty minutes. As you start to walk away from the bus, you hear footsteps behind you and Billy is at your side, effortlessly catching up with you. You realize his car is parked a few steps away from you. The gleaming navy blue Camaro stands out among the other cars, ‘CALIFORNIA’ on the license plate.

You take the opportunity to thank him before he can dart away and you will probably never exchange another word again.

“Hey,” you start, turning to look at him. “I just wanted to thank you for paying at lunch today.”

Billy plays with the lighter, making it bounce in his hand. “It’s nothing. How are you getting home?”

“Oh, I’m walking.” you point your thumb at the road on your left.

“Come on. I’ll drive you.”

Your mouth opens and closes stupidly, then your brain finally decides to cooperate. Accepting his offer feels like taking advantage of his kindness. You don't want to do this. “I…it’s not a long walk, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s probably gonna rain soon.” he points at the sky, walking past you and toward the parked car.

“You don’t have to.” you insist, guilt filling my stomach as he opens the passenger door for you.

“I know.” he chuckles. 

The soft thrumming of a rock song fills the air, the bass pulsing gently as Billy lowers the volume as soon as he turns the engine on. The interior of the Camaro envelops you in a world that feels distinctly his. The smell of leather fills your senses, mingling with the faint scent of his cologne. It's clear that he takes immense pride in his car and the care and attention he devotes to it reflects on the interior. The leather seats feel soft and smooth. There's not a speck of dust anywhere, even in the corners. A pair of aviators rests on the dashboard. 

You give him directions, your voice cutting through the quiet ambiance of the car. He nods in acknowledgment, his gaze focused on the road ahead. His left arm casually drapes against the window, while his other hand firmly grasps the top of the steering wheel. 

“It’s quite a walk,” he observes as the Camaro speeds through the road surrounded by the woods. 

“Yeah…”

You’re thinking of asking him to stop before getting to Forest Hill, but it’s pouring and you don’t have an umbrella. As you get closer and closer, anxiety starts rippling through you. You shake the feeling out of your head. You’re being ridiculous, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. Additionally, you barely know him. You try and distract yourself, asking him about where he lives instead.

“Cherry Lane. You know where it is?” 

“Yes, it’s a nice and quiet area. It’s not that far from school either,” you observe.

Billy absently scratches his chin, the glint of a silver braided ring catching your eye. “Yeah. It’s quiet, that’s for sure.” 

You find yourself wondering about its significance. Does it have one? You've heard numerous accounts of Billy's involvement in fights at parties, tales of the severe injuries sustained by those who crossed him, and the ferocity of his punches. How many times has that ring been tainted with someone else's blood? Despite the rumors surrounding his aggressive behavior, your interactions with Billy have always been positive. He's consistently shown kindness to you.

Billy turns left, veering off the main road onto a narrow side road, the tires crunching on the gravelly dirt path that winds its way towards Forest Hills. The rain drums insistently against the car, a steady rhythm punctuating the silence between you.

The first trailer emerges into view, its weather-beaten exterior casting a shadow of foreboding over your already uneasy mind. Despite your discomfort, you muster the courage to speak up, directing Billy to continue driving until the end of the road.

You steal a furtive glance at him, searching for any hint of judgment in his expression, but Billy remains impassive. There's no trace of surprise or disdain in his features. His gaze lingers on the scene before you, studying it with a detached curiosity that seems to characterize his view of Hawkins as a whole.

“Thanks again for today, really. I wanna pay you back,” you venture as he slows down.

Billy waves a dismissive hand before settling it on the gear shift, smoothly transitioning into first gear. “I told you it’s no big deal. Wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

You worry at your lip, still not totally convinced. You glance at him. “I know that. But it doesn’t sound fair. It’s important to me.”

Billy's gaze shifts to the road ahead as he seemingly considers your words. "If you really wanna make it up to me," he starts, his voice trailing off for a moment before he continues, "How about you show me around Hawkins sometime?"

You blink, caught off guard by his suggestion. "Show you around Hawkins?"

"Yeah," he nods, resting his forearm loosely on the steering wheel as he gestures while he talks. "I've only been here a short while, and I don't really know my way around outside downtown yet. Like, all the places you talked to me about. The lake, the quarry."

The idea appeals to you, though the thought of spending more time with him outside of school never crossed your mind. The fact of spending time with him in the first place was out off the charts for you. "Sure, I could do that," you reply, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I mean, I'm not exactly a tour guide, but I could show you some cool spots. Whenever you want, uhm. Yeah.”

Billy reaches out to the compartment on the passenger side, brushing your knee with his arm. He opens it and extracts a pen. 

“Here,” he takes off the cap with his teeth, and before you know it he’s taking your arm, gently lifting your sweater sleeve. 

You try to look unfazed by his touch, though the feeling of his fingertips pressing gently against your skin as he holds your forearm, the sensation of the pen as he writes something on it makes you shiver, raising goosebumps. You look at him in silent confusion as he writes, his dark lashes brushing his cheekbones, a glimpse of pearly white teeth and a sharp canine as he holds the cap between them. Then he releases your arm, and you take a look at it while he takes the cap from his mouth. A series of numbers are written in blue ink on your skin. A phone number.

“Oh.” you say softly. You definitely haven’t expected that.

“Call me when you feel like it.” 

It’s really hard for you to hide your nervousness, acting as cool as you can.

“Okay, will do.” you unbuckle your belt, glancing at him enough to give him a soft smile.

Billy nods at you in silent farewell before you close the passenger door. “Have a good night”.

“You too. Bye.”

The warmth of Billy's presence lingers in the car as you step out into the cool, damp air, the raindrops falling softly around you. Closing the door behind you, you watch as the sleek navy blue Camaro disappears down the little road and into the woods from the small window of the living room. As you stand there, the drops of water falling from the end of your hair, you can't help but brush at the phone number on your forearm, tracing the neat handwriting with your fingertips. It's like you're still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. Though you're trying to keep it under control, you can't help the fluttering feeling in your heart.

[petew21-blog]

Swapcation

I can't believe I finally did it. I was so afraid to use my powers I got and now look at me.

A fat kid like me would never walk around like this. Parading around

I still feel guilty though

14 hours ago:

My family spoke about receiving my powers for many years. They all got their chance for a few years when they were young but one day their power run out when they got too old. It took a few years for each person.

But now I was the youngest out of our family and they all were looking forward to use my powers to swap them into younger bodies. I hated this idea, cause they usually picked a family they knew and replaced them. What did my family do with the other swapped family are you asking? You don't wanna know.

And that's why I escaped the night before my family got their hands on me. I couldn't let another family get killed of like so many before. I just have to swap soon enough before my family finds me a tries to use me for themselves. Unfortunately it won't be easy, cause after centuries of swapping, they got themselves into the higher class and got enough money to do whatever they wanted.

I ran through the forest with my backpack and got to the nearest road. It was the middle of the night and there weren't cars nearby. I walked for an hour and arrived to a 24/7 diner. Perfect. I can hitchhike from here.

The only three people in the diner were the chef, waitress and some guy. He looked like a bussiness man coming from some trip. Sipped his coffee, maybe heading somewhere and trying to get some cofein to not fall asleep behind the wheel.

I aproached him:"Hey, I was just wondering if you were taking hitchhikers by any chance?" I asked with a shaky voice.

He looked at me with his exhausted eyes:"Where are you heading? Got a name kid?"

"North," I exclaimed, " and the name is Kenneth. Nice to meet you." I lied, not using my real name.

I saw a spark in his eyes. Maybe it was just a coincidence. "Really? North? There isn't anything but wilderness for miles." I didn't respond. And just nodded. He continued:"Well we got a lot to talk about then"

We headed to the car. He was driving a black Toyota. That's all I could say about that car. I knew shit about cars

His car was clean, but he had a lot of bags in the trunk. Probably from the business trip, I thought.

An hour of smalltalk about my life and himself followed. His name was Matthew, and he worked as a marketer on west coast. He quit university a few years ago and went on to get more money. From the talk all I could notice was the way his hands moved, his beautifully manly hands. His biceps was carefully wrapped around by the blue short sleeve of his T-shirt. I could only imagine what it would be like to kiss his beard and continue to his chest. Burry myself there. I wondered if he was hairy there just as his arms were.

As I was dreaming about this beautiful specimen I didn't even notice that he made a few slight turns. As he kept talking and I was admiring him, out of the pitch black forest a diner emerged. The same diner we came back from.

I looked at him horrified

"You didn't think that your parents would let you get away? Sorry for the change of your plans for the vacation, but your family needs you and I was promised a lot of money. So I gotta get you back."

Fuck. No. I can't let this happen. I can't go back. I gotta find a way out of here.

The doors were locked, so there was no way I was getting out of there. Begging didn't seem like a valid option. I noticed the time 2:09. It's my birthday. I wonder. If this doesn't work then I am dead. If I don't do anything my family will use me. I can't let the happen.

I concentrated hard enough. I have never swapped before, but I knew how from my family. They all went through it many times.

I felt warmth coming straight from my head, following to my hands.

We were few miles from my home

Now or never

I jumping at him. My right hand grabbing the wheel and turning it to the right. My left hand grabbing his shoulder.

A moment of darkness. For a short glimpse I saw my own face shocked and screaming. Then we hit the tree.

I got out of the car as soon as possible. My body didn't move. I killed him. I did the same thing, like my family to all the others.

I ran to the backseat, grabbed my backpack a ran striaght to the forest. I could hear sirens in the distance. I have to run now.

Present

I think it has been far enough for now. The forest ened with a beautiful large meadow between two massive mountains. Sun already shined and I could slow down for a minute.

I took off my ripped shirt and jeans. If someone saw them they would think that a bear attacked.

In my view were now two beautifully sculpted hairy pecs and even more beautiful abs. I went through every ridge my fingers found. The skin was tigh and warm. After the run I completely forgot I was now Matthew. Not Jake anymore. But Matthew. Beautiful hot sexy Matthew.

I spoke out. What a manly voice I now possess I though. My hand touching my neck and the other my lips and beard as I spoke. I smelled my armpit. The stentch of sweat was extremely strong but erotic. I went to admire my new hairy legs. I slowly started from my strong thighs, through the thick carpet of hair covering them, following to my new feet. I took off the shoes. My feet are massive now.

The last thing I didn't see yet was already awaiting hard. I got completely naked. There I was. A man! A hot sexy man. Sculpted like a statue with a hard and large dick in hand. I jerked off slowly and with my other hand I kept on exploring the already touched areas. I went on to masturbate rapidly just until the streams of cum kept pouring out off me.

I stood there smiling, laughing.

And then the clarity hit. I took Matthew's life. I did that to stop my family, but that didn't make it easier.

There was no going back now. I took my backpack and the rest of my clothes that weren't destroyed, hoping I would get a chance to get some on the way.

"I am Matthew Daniels and I am on a vacation. I am Matthew."

I went into the beautiful nature to continue my journey. I still feel guilty. Maybe the feeling will pass. I hope...

Part 2:

[sabsturned]

M. Sturniolo - Three Doors Down

SEE PINNED POST FOR NAVIGATION

comment on this post to be added to my taglist :-)

pairing: matt x fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of a drinking and smoking parent, crying

summary: you and matt used to be best friends. you were closer to him than anyone else you know, and you’ve always secretly had a crush on him. the day you told him, you guys stopped talking. tonight was prom night, and you had no guys or even friends to go with. all you could do was sit in the corner and watch him dance with his girlfriend, sofia.

a/n: first fic!!! i’m rlly excited about this one. it’s based off of the song ‘three doors down’ by joy. this was my shit in 2022 and i don’t get why it wasn’t talked about more. ALSO I HAVE A QUESTION: what are anons??? also please leave requests for fics!! i’m literally out of ideas. THATS IT!! enjoy the fic :))

key: matt y/n sofia

and i’m in the corner

dying of boredom

catching light from the shine

of his girlfriend’s tiara

me and matt were best friends. me and the boy three doors down. i mean, the best word to describe us was inseparable. we hung out all the time—at school, at home, over the weekends, at parties—everywhere i went, he went, and everywhere he went, i went.

it started when we were both eight years old. i was trying to avoid my mom at all costs because when she drank, she got mean. i went outside, picking all the small white flowers out of the ground. maybe if i gave my mom flowers, she would cheer up, and she wouldn’t hurt me. at least that’s what i thought.

i picked a yellow dandelion, adding it to my bouquet of flowers when i saw a boy around my age riding on a skateboard. he was riding it on circles in his driveway. suddenly the only thing my eyes were looking at was his curly brunette hair. his eyes were a beautiful color of blue. not as deep as an ocean, but not as light as the sky. all i knew was that they were perfect and they consumed me. his cheeks were a shade of red, probably because of the humidity. i’ll never forget the way he looked at me for the first time; the way his eyes lit up, the way his smile widened, showing off the dimple on his left cheek, the way the world around us faded.

his hand slowly moved up, waving at me. my smile grew. i waved back.

whenever my mom started drinking, i just went outside, where he was every afternoon on his skateboard. he tried teaching me to ride it, but i wasn’t very good. we played in his backyard with his brothers and their dog, trevor. sometimes they brought out their sprinkler on a really hot day, and we all just played like kids. i would give anything to be a kid with them again.

when we were in the same homeroom for third grade, we were both ecstatic. we were always partners in group work, always played together at recess, always ate together at lunch. everybody always made fun of us, and assumed we were dating or something. but we didn’t care.

everything was perfect. up until eighth grade. ever since me and matt met, i’ve always kind of liked him. i never really had the courage to tell him, up until the day before our eighth grade dance.

i confessed my feelings for him. i didn’t say much really. i just told him i liked him and asked if he wanted to go on a date. but i don’t think he felt the same.

he said he was busy.

all contact was cut after that. no more late night calls, no more weekend sleepovers, no more study sessions after school.

and it’s all my fault. i ruined everything. if i wouldn’t have said all of that, we wouldn’t have been here. we would have still been friends. we would have gone to prom together. we would have been falling asleep on call together. we would have still been as inseparable as we were when we were kids.

all of this was my fault.

now i’m at prom. the speakers blasted a pop song i don’t know the name of. all of the kids in the room were dancing, jumping around, making out in the bathroom, but i was sitting in the corner.

i would have gone home, but i was trying to avoid being near my mom at all costs. so i was just there, dying of boredom.

i caught a glimpse of her tiara. the plastic gems glistened in the dim light of the room. how was sofia able to wear cheap plastic on her head and still manage to look absolutely beautiful.

i’m so jealous of sofia. she’s a cheerleader. she’s skinny, she’s pretty, she won prom queen, and worst of all, she was matt’s girlfriend. we have had some interactions before, and i hate talking about her negatively because she is so incredibly sweet. like i’ve never met a popular girl so nice. it made it harder to hate her the way i wanted to.

her silky straight hair ran down her back, and her wide smile could light up a whole room. her dress was fabulous too. it was a really pretty shade of lavender, and it was sparkly. it complimented her figure so well. i mean, she looked like an absolute goddess.

her hands were wrapped around matt’s neck as they danced to the slow music playing. it hurt so bad. i should be over matt by now, i mean, it’s been four years. but i wasn’t over him. i wasn’t over his curly brunette hair, his beautiful blue eyes, the dimple that appeared on his left cheek whenever he would smile. i wasn’t over our late night phone calls, our weekend sleepovers, our study sessions after school. i wasn’t over him. and i never would be.

watching them dance together made me sick. the eye contact, how touchy they were. i decided to go get some punch to distract myself. i wanted to go home so bad, but a broken heart was less noticeable than the burn mark of a cigarette.

the loud music drowned out the sound of the punch splashing into the red cup. i turned around to go back to the corner i was sitting in, when a tall figure bumped into me. thankfully, i didn’t spill any punch on my dress.

“oh, sorry. i should have been watching where i was-“ my breathing stopped when i realized who i had just bumped into. his curly brunette hair, his beautiful blue eyes. matt.

“that’s alright-“ he stopped talking when he saw me. “oh, um, hey.” he said, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“hi.” i responded.

“you look.. amazing.” he complimented.

“oh, thanks. you too.”

“are you having fun?” no. not when she’s the one you’re dancing with. not when i’m still thinking about you even after all these years.

“yeah, just hanging out with my friends. a night to remember.” i lied.

“yeah.” he laughed.

there was a moment of silence where we just looked at each other. the first time i’ve looked in his beautiful blue eyes in years. the first time we’ve had an interaction in years.

“hey baby, they’re playing my favorite, c’mon!” sofia ran over, grabbing chris by the arm, giving me a small wave before dragging him back to the dance floor.

“nice seeing you y/n.” he voiced, before him and sofia continued dancing together.

i tried to say something back, but nothing came out. i forgot how to speak, i forgot how to breathe. before i knew it, the tears were already falling out of my eyes.

i needed to leave. thankfully, i only live a few blocks from the school, so i could just walk home. the only thing i could think about was how i just needed to be anywhere else but this school.

i shoved open the doors, walking out into the cold rain. it was pouring outside. normally, i really liked rain. me and matt used to lay in the rain together. it’s where we had our most meaningful conversations, and shared our deepest thoughts. but i wasn’t enjoying it right now. every drop felt like cupid pulling an arrow out of me. i rushed home as quick as i possibly could, the rain soaking my hair, and the tears rushing down my face. i actually couldn’t even tell if i was crying anymore. the rain made it hard to tell.

i was able to sneak past my mom so she wouldn’t see i went out. i ran up the stairs and into my room, quietly shutting the door behind me. i let out loud sobs into my hands, my rain soaked body dripping rain into a puddle beneath me. i looked up and saw the picture we made in fourth grade art class together, my sobs growing louder. i looked next to it. a signed baseball from a game we went to together sat on the shelf, along with a scrapbook of our seventh grade summer. suddenly, my room was filled with memories of us. i need to destroy it all.

i took the canvas off of the wall, grabbing my scissors and stabbing it until you couldn’t see the picture anymore. i took the scrapbook off of the shelf, ripping out the pages, cutting them into small pieces. i grabbed the baseball, opened my window, and threw it. i didn’t see where it landed. i was just glad it was out of my sight. i ripped the cards and gifts he made me for my birthdays, and christmas, and valentine’s day, ripping and cutting them up. then the stuffed bear he got me. my favorite animal. i cut that open, ripping out the stuffing. until nothing else was left. i sighed, my sobs growing louder.

i looked down and noticed my heels, stained with punch. the rain should have washed it off. the punch reminded me of him. i must have missed when it fell out of my cup and onto my shoes. i kicked them off, throwing them under my bed.

i looked down at my dress, noticing the color of it. it was the same shade of blue as his eyes. his beautiful blue eyes. i groaned out loud, ripping my dress off and throwing it in my closet. everything reminded me of him. the clothes i wore when we hung out, the sheets we laid in, the desk he sat at while we talked for hours, the rug we sat on when we played board games, the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the window, everything. it was like he was a memory that i couldn’t get rid of.

but maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. maybe we aren’t meant to have late night phone calls. maybe we aren’t meant to have weekend sleepovers. maybe we aren’t meant to have study sessions after school. maybe we just aren’t meant to be. maybe he belongs with sofia. maybe we aren’t supposed to be together, me and the boy three doors down.

angst is one of my favorite things to write. it’s so therapeutic to me. so i hope you enjoyed this and please give me your feedback in the comments! :D

- thanks for reading!! with love, sabrina 🤍🎀

taglist:: @muchloveforhacker @saartjuhh @anonymousmfs @mylove4lana @chrissfavhoe @sturniolo101 @h3arts4harry @hereforthwtripletsfr @pepsixchris @ch3rrywine-reposts @amaliarosewood @gwennybenny @memea32221 @urfavstromboli

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sound

Steph Catley x Baby!Reader

Summary: Steph talks with Macca

The rest of the Tillies crowd around you when Steph settles in a seat.

She'd left training early last night to pick you up and sign the paperwork and had slept in. She was lucky Tony was so accommodating. This was a big moment and she's glad that she's got you now.

The idea of adopting hadn't been on Steph's mind at all until she'd finished a game and looked up to see a little girl holding a sign that said 'This is my adoption day present'.

There was something about it that got Steph thinking. It hadn't crossed her mind once and then all of a sudden it was all she could think about. The process was long and she was constantly flying back and forth from England to Australia to sort everything out.

"How old is she?" Mini asks.

"Six months," Steph replies, smiling down at you.

"You're going to be a great mum, Steph. If you need any help just call. I'd be happy to babysit for a bit."

"I can't ask you to do that. Really, it's-"

"Trust me," Mini laughs, patting her on the shoulder," Give it a few weeks and you'll see why I offered." Her eyes are drawn behind Steph's shoulder. "Kyra! Charli! Stop teaching Harper bad habits!"

More of her teammates come up to fawn over you but Steph's waiting in anticipation for one in particular.

You seem unbothered by all the noise, something almost everyone comments on and Steph has to offer them all a forced smile as she rocks you back and forth and pulls silly faces to make you giggle.

"You wanted to talk?" Mackenzie says as she falls back next to Steph," You sounded pretty serious. You're not dying are you?"

"No...Macca...I was wondering if I could get some advice."

"If it's about changing position then I don't recommend goalkeeper. If it's about this little angel, then I'm not sure I'm much help either."

"I think you are." Steph isn't quite sure why she's treating it like it's some big secret. Everyone will know eventually but it's personal right now and she doesn't want anyone prying.

"Steph, you're scaring me a little."

"You know when you found out about your hearing loss, did you feel like learning auslan would help?"

Macca's brow furrows. "Why would..." Her eyes drift down to you. Somewhere across the room, Kyra and Charli shriek. It's enough to catch everyone off guard, heads automatically turning to the source of the noise but you don't react in the slightest. "Oh."

"She failed her first AOAE test and then the second one too. She failed her ABR test too."

Macca reaches out gently as Steph looks at her with wide eyes. "Is it complete hearing loss or is she hard of hearing like me?"

"Like you. I've...I've got baby hearing aids for her..." Steph digs around in her pocket to bring out a little blue case decorated with whichever stickers caught your eye when she got you yesterday. You'd smacked a few of them when Steph presented them to you and she had stuck them onto the case. She pops it open to reveal the aids.

Honestly, Mackenzie didn't even know that you could give babies hearing aids.

"She doesn't really like them though. The doctor said to keep them in whenever she's awake but...She really doesn't like them sometimes and I don't want her teased when she goes to school."

"It's different," Macca says eventually as she watches your whole face be taken over by a yawn," I was much older when I found out. I knew how to speak and communicate. I...I don't think it could hurt to learn it with her although if you're staying with Arsenal long-term then you should probably do a bit of bsl too, just to be safe."

"Right, yes."

Steph had known about your hearing loss for months now. Some of the workers assigned to you had tried to warn you away from her because of it. They made you out to be a difficult case or defective in some way.

But Steph thought you were a little angel.

You were so perfect and sweet and she wanted to adopt you even though everyone told her that there were better, hearing babies to choose from.

But you had endeared her from the moment you met, smacking blocks together and chewing on your fingers.

"You should put her hearing aids in though," Mackenzie says," She'll get used to them eventually but they're no help if she's not wearing them. Did they teach you how?"

Steph nods. "Yeah."

"Can you teach me? Girls like us have to stick together. I can't believe they make ones that small."

That shocks a laugh out of Steph as she sits you upright to slip your hearing aids on.

You whine a little when they're turned on, scrunching up your face at all of the noise you can suddenly hear.

"Yeah," Macca laughs at your annoyance," It was like that for me too. It's so strange that people just regularly hear so much."

You turn your head towards her when she speaks, the first time she's seen you react to noise at all and giggle, kicking your feet.

Steph beams as she stands you up on her thighs and kisses your chubby baby cheeks, blowing a few raspberries on them for good measure.

"Can we play with the baby now?" Kyra asks, suddenly barrelling into the quiet moment," Please?"

"No, Kyra," Steph says with an eye roll," You can play with my angel after camp. You'll be seeing a lot of her back in London."

"Please? I'm really responsible! I take care of Harper all the time!"

In sync, Steph and Mackenzie both watch as Charli goads Harper into rolling off the table. Thankfully, Mini is there to catch her just in time.

"That wasn't my fault! Charli was watching her!"

"Go and play with Harper, Kyra," Steph says," This angel needs a little nap so she can greet her adoring fans at dinner. Maybe, if you're good, you can help feed her."

Kyra walks off in a huff as Steph gets up from her seat.

"Steph," Macca calls out as Steph starts to get ready to put you down for a nap," My audiologist in London does kids as well. I can set up an appointment for you if you want."

"Thanks, Macca."

In the quiet of her hotel room, you finally settle. Steph's seen this kind of behaviour from you before, on those visits before she could adopt you.

Noises still seemed a little shocking to you and strange.

You give her a little smile to show off the few teeth you've got and Steph flutters kisses upon your cheeks as you giggle ecstatically.

It's the best sound in the world and Steph settles on the bed with you on your chest. You're still giggling as she slips your hearing aids out so you can sleep peacefully.

"Go to sleep, angel," She coos to you, close enough that you can feel the vibrations of her words against you," We're going to have so much fun together."

[leqonsluv3r]

just thinking about…

masterlist taglist

leon kennedy being a good boyfriend despite all his trauma. despite all the horrors he’s faced that he has found something in you. that he actually trusts you more then anyone, probably one of the hardest things he’s ever done. that he loves you unconditionally. sure, it takes time, more time then it probably should but you don’t mind giving him that. you can see how much he’s been through just by the look in his blue eyes.

so you give him all the time he needs, you just be yourself and trust that its enough for him to open up to you and keep you close. you slowly and carefully see a change in leon that you didn’t before. you start to see his emotions peek out a bit. when he wakes up in the morning next to you in your shared bed, pulling you close to him instead of him rolling over. he buries his face in your neck, starting to instantly let the scent of your shampoo lull him into a state of relaxation.

like his body and mind even though in a heavy state of sleep, know its you.

he starts taking you out more when he’s not out on missions, taking you out on small dates. getting coffee down the street from your apartment. he even drives you around, letting you pick the music.

he’s finally understanding what everyone around him is talking about when they told him to find someone he could be around and be comfortable with.

he knew he wasn’t an easy guy to love but you…you were different. you were very persistent in a way he’s never experienced.

you latched onto him when he needed it the most, you probably could tell that without you he would be hanging on by a thread. the small shred of you had infected him and made him fall in love with you.

he started trusting you more, having figured out that by now you weren’t going to abandon him and leave. you were going to stick around and be a part of his life.

and he owed you his for simply being alive.

for continuing to date him when he came home with too many injuries from his last mission or when he woke you up from another nightmare. you didn’t judge him or ridicule him, you were there to clean his injuries and coddle him back to sleep.

something he would never admit out loud — but what his actions would show is — he needed your love and affection more then anything else.

and he knew he wasn’t a perfect boyfriend, he had his flaws as did everyone. but he was a good boyfriend and he did his best.

he took you out, bought you things you didn’t need and showered you with as much affection as man like him could muster. he brought you your favorite coffee every morning from a cafe on the days he was out running, he always heated up a bath for you.

he did things that made him a good boyfriend, things that you had never experienced before.

you both worked for each other in separate ways, but you fit. you worked. like fucked up puzzle pieces that somehow seemed to fit together.

he was damaged and broken, but when you found him, you gave him love and took care of him. you gave him something he had never experienced before and he did the same for you.

even if both of you subconsciously knew it, you didn’t say it out loud. you just lived and he continued to treat you as you deserved to be treated.

you would give him the world if you could and he would do the same in return for you. for all the times you’ve helped him and proven to him that he is worthy of love. something that seemed like a dream once upon a time.

but you made it a reality, you let him prove his love. you let him show you that he could love someone and do the same in return. he didn’t know if he could ever repay you for something like that.

he probably couldn’t.

so he would just love you instead.

and that was good enough for him.

an: this isn’t what you guys probably wanted this week but it’s what your getting bc i’m tired and i just worked 40 hours HASHSH. i love you all so much, pls reblog and like. kisses, xx.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST AHEAD, HERE THERE BE HEARTBREAK, TURN BACK NOW OR CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED Daryl's voice sounded thin and shaky as he spoke, breaking as he struggled to speak. " 'M so sorry," he whispered. " "M so sorry I wasn't fast enough. I shoulda—"

"Don't," you breathed with some effort, staring up at his blue eyes. His face was the last thing you wanted to see if you had to leave this world. "It's not your fault, Daryl. Promise me that you know it's not your fault," you said with some effort.

He brushed your hair back and clasped your face gently because there was nothing else to be done... You were dying. You were fading in front of him. His fingertips left crimson smears on your paling skin and he wished he could unsee them. "I—I promise," he managed, tears breaking out over his cheeks. He was leaning over your, cradling you gently, his face just inches from yours.

You pulled in a ragged breath and Daryl could hear the effort it took you. "I always knew, somehow, that my time here with you was limited. I guess—" a pause and another labored breath, "—if it seems too perfect, it probably won't last," you said, a faint smile touching your lips.

Daryl's face contorted and his shoulders shook as he dropped his head to your chest. Your fingers found his hair and combed through it until he lifted his eyes to your face again. "How can I—I can't keep goin' without you," he choked out in a tight whisper.

Your last act on earth was to ever so gently wipe a tear from his cheek with the backs of your gracefully curved fingers. "You have to go on, Daryl. Our family needs you and you have more to do. I know it."

He watched frantically as the brilliant light in your eyes seemed to fade and shrink, like someone drawing the curtains over the day's last light at dusk. Daryl clutched to your hand as you sighed out your last breath and that gentle smile touched your lips for the last time before your eyes shut and you drifted away. A noise like some mournful howl of an animal left him and his head dropped again to your chest, his fingers laced with yours, already growing cold. And he wept and he wept... He'd never see your smile again. He'd never again hear you say his name or wake to your tousled hair and silky skin beside him in bed. Nothing would ever be the same and he didn't know if this, you gone, was survivable. Of all the things he'd made it through, perhaps this was one he couldn't.

Prompt: "I always knew, somehow, that my time here with you was limited." A/N: I'm soRRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY!! I randomly picked a prompt from my list and this is what came up!

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐂𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐱 3✯

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐰𝐚𝐩𝐆𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛

IN WHICH… Matt and Chris Sturniolo are just two inexperienced losers.

𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ����𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD! mentions of camming, blowjobs, spit, little bit of sub!matt. that's all i think of let me know if i forgot something.

MPT1, GPT1, MPT2, GPT2,

"Can’t wait to see you again, maybe this time you won’t be as shy and you will actually look at me 💕"

Matt has been staring at those word for what seems like days, but in reality was really 30 minutes. He didn't know if he wanted to jump in excitement, or crawl into a hole and never come out.

He knew she caught a glimpse of his face in the diner, however, he didn't think she would recognize him and choose him as the winner. Part of him was hoping that she got too many submissions and would miss his, finding someone better than him.

There had to have been someone better than him. After all, he was nothing but a virgin who kept his head in books and the occasional video game. He wasn't experienced in her extracurricular activities.

So why did she pick hi-Mika.

Mika must have been with Y/n when going through the submissions and noticed Matt, thus being the reason he was picked.

Mika probably thinks he's some kind of freak for watching her best friend's streams. They were probably laughing at him right now, Mika going on to tell Y/n all about how they had to teach him how to take a picture of his dick.

He's mortified.

His phone ringing pulls him out of his thoughts, he glances over and his heart drops seeing the contact name.

Mika

Is she calling to make fun of him? To call him a perv for entering in a contest to win a date with a cam girl?

He shakily answers the call and places it on speaker, his voice cracking.

"H-hello?''

"Matt we need your help!"

We?

"With wh-So I'm at my friend's place and her camera is acting stupid! I know you are majoring in film so I was wondering if you could come over and help?"

He debates on helping, not really wanting to face Mika and the sheer embarrassment that she knows about the contest. "I-I don't know Mika I'm pre-Please Matt? I really need my camera fixed."

An all too familiar voice flows through the phone making Matt tense.

The voice was a bit higher pitched, the words whiny, but also sultry.

Y/n

He swallows harshly as he begins to sweat, he wasn't expecting to hear her voice at all. "Please Matt? I'll pay you."

Her words have an underlying tone that makes Matt all the more nervous.

"I- Ok...Yeah, I'll come help." He looks at himself in the mirror and grimaces at his outfit and hair. He had just gotten out of the shower not too long ago, his hair still partially wet and his pajamas on.

"Perfect! I'll have Mika send you the address! bye, pretty boy!"

Matt feels his face warm at the nickname, loving how it made him feel.

His phone lights up with text stating the address and his eyes widen.

They live in the same apartment building.

How did he never notice they lived in the same building? he's on the third floor and she's on the fourth, he should have noticed. How have they never run into each other?

He chooses not to dwell too much on it, and rushes out of his apartment, heading right towards the elevator.

He arrives at the door and shakily raises his hand, knocking on the wooden frame. Not even a second later it swings open, Mika standing in front of him.

He quickly notices the girl behind her, dressed in a pair of skimpy blue shorts and a matching tube top. It’s something about the brown girl in blue that does something to him.

Y/n catches him staring and smirks to herself, purposely crossing her arms so her boobs are pushed up. “Matt?” He snaps out of his trance and looks back to Mika

"S-sorry, what did you say?"

Mika rolls her eyes and pulls him inside, slamming the door in the process. "OK so I have to run and grab the food we ordered, I shouldn't be long. You two get the camera fixed." Mika quickly exits the apartment, leaving the two alone.

Y/n smirks as Matt refuses to look at her, his finger twitching as he becomes antsy. She takes a few steps until she's right in front of him, "You ok Matt? You look a bit sick."

'I-I'm fine-" He clears his throat and finally looks up, making brief eye contact before looking around the apartment. "-where's the camera?" He completely ignores her question, just wanting to fix the camera. the quicker he finishes his job, the quicker he can leave and be able to breathe properly.

She motions toward the hallway, a mischievous glint in her eye,

"my bedroom."

His mouth runs dry as she grabs his hand, guiding him to the bedroom he's seen multiple times through a screen. Y/n looks back at him and giggles, "What you've never been in a girl's bedroom before?'' Her question makes him blush, his hair falling in his face as he looks down. He quickly walks over to the bed, grabbing the camera. He looks over it, trying to see exactly what the problem is. He doesn't find anything so he averts his gaze to Y/n who's already looking at him.

"Um, what exactly is wrong with it?"

"It's not focusing and every time we take a picture, it doesn't save." Her words are whiny, a sense of urgency in her voice. He hums and looks back at the camera, turning it on and trying to see what she's talking about. He raises it up and focuses on a random doll on her nightstand. As she watches Matt get distracted by the camera, she takes the time to look him up and down.

She figures he just got out of the shower, seeing that his hair is wet and dripping onto his pink shirt. His sweatpants hang low on his waist, showing the band of his boxers.

He looks good.

“Are you going to accept the date.”

Her words make Matt fumble with the camera and drop it on the bed. She giggles and takes a step closer to him, her sweet perfume making its way through his nostrils and invading his senses.

“W-what?”

“The date Matt, are you going to accept?”

He swallows harshly, wiping his sweaty palms on his sweatpants. “I-I don’t know.”

She frowns at his answer, she was expecting him to say yes. Matt notices the look on her face and begins to panic, “n-not that I don’t want to! You’re great! I-I’m just n-nervous…”

“About what?”

“You..”

Y/n tilts her head to the side.

He’s nervous about her?

“Me? Why are you nervous about me?” She watches as he looks everywhere but at her, even going as far as taking a step back. She smiles and takes a step towards him, watching as he swallows harshly.

She delicately trails her hand over his tattooed arm, allowing her nails to gently scratch over the black ink. "Are you nervous right now?" She looks up at him, enjoying the anxious look on his face.

"Y-Y no..." He lies softly. The girl hums and cocks her head to the side, "You sure? You seem really nervous. Maybe I could help you with that." She gently pushes him down on the bed, immediately dropping to her knees. Matt quickly adjusts his glasses and looks down at her with wide eyes.

If it wasn't already, his heart was definitely pounding out of his chest. He feels his mouth run dry as she places her hands on his thighs, rubbing over his sweatpants slowly. She chuckles under her breath as she watches the tent rise in front of her, "Someone excited."

She slowly inches her hands toward the tent, pulling it away at the last minute. "You know, I really enjoyed your video Matt."

"Y-you did?" He curses as his voice cracks, the tension in the room making him shake slightly.

"Mhm, I loved the setup you had, I loved the way you pulled your sweats down and started to tease yourself slowly, building up your release. I loved the way you moaned and whimpered my name, begging your mommy, to let you cum. I didn't take you as a mommy kink person."

Matt is breathing harshly at this point, nothing but dirty thoughts that have his face turning red intruding his mind. He doesn't understand how Y/n manages to look so innocent when she's on her knees in front of him and talking about him masturbating.

" But you want to know what I really loved?"

He sucks in a sharp breath when she finally lays her hand on his tent, palming him gently.

"How big you were. You should have seen how wet I got when I saw it. I imagined how it felt in me, the way it would slip in so easily. The thoughts became so intense I ended up playing with myself." she admits without a care in the world. She was a sucker for dirty talk, the erotic words always going straight to her core as her brain managed to develop the images as if she was in a dark room with a Polaroid.

She could tell the titillating words were getting to him as well, him now sitting there nonverbal and only breathing raggedly.

"Can I see?" She asks in faux innocence, her hand still moving against his tent at an agonizingly slow pace.

He wants to say yes so bad, he would be an absolute fucking dumbass not to, but he's worried about Mika walking through the door and catching them. Y/n notices the way his eyes frantically switch between her and the door, finding it amusing that he's worried about being caught.

"Don't worry about Mika. Let me help you relax," her hands go toward the knot on his sweats, taking her time untying them before pulling them down gently.

He's wearing a pair of blue boxers that happen to sheer against his growing bulge, a dark spot sitting where his tip lays from precum. She lays her head on his thigh, beginning to palm over him once again before circling the nail of her index finger against the covered tip. Matt bites his lip in trepidation, his skin getting hot as she teases him.

He whimpers as she plants feather-like kisses on his tip through the cotton material, her tongue darting out and licking a fat strip over the tent not long after.

She's going to be the death of him, he's sure of it.

Before he knows it, her fingers are hooked into the waistband of his boxers and they are being pulled down, his cock swinging up and hitting him in his abdomen.

Just like the other night, Y/n can feel her mouth watering and an ache forming in between her legs.

It's even more appealing in person.

She wraps her hand around the base and moves closer, planting a small kiss on his tip. She looks up at Matt and maintains eye-contact as she gathers a bunch of spit in her mouth, soon opening the orifice and sticking her tongue out.

Matt flinches as the warm saliva drips onto his tip, his fingers twitching at the sensation of it running down the side of his aching cock.

She uses the spit as a natural lube and begins to move her hand up and down, making sure to work him slowly so he won't cum fast. She plans on dragging this out as long as she could.

Matt's eyes flutter shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip harshly as he holds back a moan. This was a whole new experience for him, only having started masturbating a few months ago. He was used to his own hand, and setting his own pace, but this?

This was a feeling that he knew he would chase till the end of time.

Her hand feels completely different from his, the skin a bit softer as well as the touch. Her movements were fluid, yet staggered at the same time.

He wouldn't trade it for the world.

His eyes snap open feeling her lips suddenly engulf his tip. He lets a low groan escape his throat as her tongue swirls around the red mushroom top.

She hums, watching as the vibrations make him shiver. It's not long before she decides to take him fully in her mouth, hallowing out her cheeks. Matt lets out a choked gasp at the unfamiliar feeling.

"Oh fu-ck!" His hands have an iron grip on the pink duvet as she proceeds to bob her head up and down. He doesn't know what to focus on.

Does he focus on her mouth and hallowed out cheeks? Or does he focus on the way her tongue is gliding against the side of his dick?

He truly doesn't know considering his mind is all over the place, the only thing he can focus on being this newfound pleasure.

The lewd slurping sounds along with Matt's moans and whimpers bouncing off the walls drive Y/n even more. She keeps her eyes trained on Matt as she takes him all the way down her throat, watching him close his eyes and throw his head back. His moans go straight to her core, but she does nothing about it, her only goal as of right now is to give Matt the best head of his life.

And she's doing just that.

She speeds up her motion of bobbing, enjoying watching him crumble above her.

Matt feels like the soul is being sucked out of him, quite literally. His breathing speeds up and his knuckles remain a sickly white as his stomach begins to cave in on itself.

"Shit I'm close- Oh fuck please!" He begs, unintentionally bucking his hips further into her mouth.

She hums once again, making Matt damn near cry as the vibrations send him over the edge.

His head falls forward, his jaw dropping as his eyes close. Y/n keeps bobbing her head, moaning as she begins to taste the semi-salty liquid coating her taste buds.

Matt whimpers as she proceeds to suck him off, the overstimulation quickly becoming too much. His thighs begin to shake and he finally speaks, "s'too much!"

Y/n slowly stops bobbing her head and pulls away from him with a pop, a thin string of spit and cum attaching itself to his cock and her lips.

Matt swallows harshly and pants as he lifts his head, watching with hazy eyes as Y/n licks her lips.

"You look more relaxed now," she teases, a sly smile making its way on to her face as she manages to still look at him innocently.

Before either of them could say anything else, they hear the front door only a few feet away swing open.

"I'm back and I got Chinese food!"

Y/n quickly stands to her feet as Matt hastily grabs at his boxers and pants, the two trying to put themselves together quickly. Just as the two manage to look presentable, Mika walks into the room.

"Sorry it took me so long, they fucked up the original order and they had to remake it, but they let me keep the fucked up one so now we have double the food!" Y/n nods, trying to act completely normal.

"Matt why are you so red?" Mika asks looking at the boy who is in fact red in the face. "i-it's just hot..." He attempts to lie, hoping Mika will just drop it. Fortunately for him, the girl does in fact drop it, too hungry to care.

"Ok well lets eat. Matt you want to stay? We have more than enough food." Matt freezes at the offer.

He would like to stay, but he doesn't know if he physically could. He just got the blowjob of his life from the girl of his dreams, he doesn't know if he would be mentally able to sit and eat with her.

He would probably combust.

"yeah, Matt stay! " Y/n begs, that mischievous glint returning in her eyes.

"I-ok," he gives in easily, finding it hard to say no to the girl and her puppy dog eyes. She smiles and grabs his hand, leading him to the kitchen. They stop in front of her fridge and she swings the door open, bending over directly in front of him.

Matts eyes widen feeling her ass rub against him, "what do you want to drink?" She asks as if she's not teasing.

She's going to be the death of him.

alright, i finally gave yall pt 3😭 this was supposed to only be three parts but i feel bad for posting without @guccifrog so when pookie comes back imma give yall a pt 4💀 i hope yall enjoy

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @hoesformatt @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315 @moonk1ss3d

special tags: @lovetriplets @summerssover @m0r94n @certifiednatelover @mattsturniololoverr @luvulots @nena1256

[spookysteddie]

The Very First Date

Modern!Steve Harrington x college!fem!reader

Part two to "lemon drop martini" ... Read part one here

18+ MINORS DNI

desc: you finally call Steve for that first date. And it goes better than you imagined

cw: alcohol mention (reader is not in the slightest drunk), slight Dom!Steve, cocky!Steve begging, pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel), unprotected sex, p in v, creampie. (let mw know if I missed anything)

wc: 2.8k

a/n: I hope y'all enjoy this! based off of this ask who asked me for a part two a while ago (I am so sorry). My writers block has lifted after like a year and here we are! So expect more fics soon!

...

Three days. 

You’d waited three days before calling the number on the napkin. 

Well that’s a lie. You actually called the number the next day (after eating a greasy meal, drinking a shit ton of water, and downing some aspirin… nothing like a hangover) from your roommate Alixs phone. But the second he answered, you hung up very fast. 

Alix, of course, called you a little baby back bitch and told you that you needed to call him. That it’d be nice to have some perks around your little college town. 

You rolled your eyes at the sentiment. 

To say you were nervous talking on the phone with him would be an understatement, in fact you were shitting myself. Scared he’d be able to hear it in your voice how nervous you were. Or, worse, that he wouldn’t remember you. 

Four days ago: 

“This is Steve Harrington speaking. How can I help you?”

You took a deep breath, putting a smile on your face in the hopes it’ll translate through the telephone.

“Hi, Steve. I-it’s y/n. From the bar the other night.” You cringe at the slight stutter and the wave in your voice. “You gave me your number on the napkin.” 

You can practically hear the smile in his voice, coolness seeping from his voice, “lemon drop martini girl. Of course I remember you, sweetheart.” 

You quietly sigh in relief that he remembers. 

“Oh good! I’m sorry for not calling sooner. I was a little hung over and then I had to study and take exams. Finals season.” You laugh awkwardly, cursing yourself for rambling and making a fool out of yourself. Alix would be rolling her eyes. 

Steve laughs on the other end of the line, “ah yes. I hated finals. Very frustrating. Hence why I dropped out, much to my fathers dislike.” 

One thing about you is that you love oversharing. But you love when other people overshare even more. There’s nothing like bonding over a trauma dump. 

You giggle into the phone which makes Steve giggle too, the sound mimicking a sweet song. All you want to make him do it again. 

“Anyway, sweetheart, I was wondering if you had plans for Friday night?” His tone is cool and relaxed. You could only wish to sound like that. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, words failing you for a moment. “Oh! Um, nothing actually.”

“Perfect. Hows ‘bout you and I go on a little date? I know a great place. Kinda fancy. What do you say?” 

You could kick your feet like a little girl at the prospect of going out with him. You, also, are tempted to make him wait. To give him just a little bit of a hard time. It was what you'd usually do to the men you like. But there was something in the back of your mind begging you not to. 

“I-I would like that, Steve.” 

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7. Give you time to study and get ready. Take a nap even.” 

…

 “I can’t do this. I can’t go. I mean, fuck, I have nothing to wear.” 

Nothing to wear was an understatement. You could hardly see the floor of your bedroom, clothes littering it with only a small path for where you keep walking from the mirror to your closet. 

Alix sits on your bed, drinking some wine and eating some popcorn. “I liked the black leather. I don’t know why you won’t just wear that one. You look hot in it.” 

You slide your hands down the front of the blue, sequence dress you have on. “I just feel like that’s not enough. And isn’t it a little … short for a dress for a nice restaurant?” 

Alix shrugs, “I mean, probably but who cares. You look hot.” She sips her wine and says again, “well you look hot in everything.” 

You look over at her, “while that’s sweet, he’s going to be here in fifteen minutes and I need a few shots to calm my nerves so help me pick a dress, please.” 

She rolls her eyes at my dramatics, downing her wine. “I think you should wear the short black one you wore two weeks ago. Not the leather one, the velvet one. Makes your ass look great. Oh with your Louboutins! You spent a lot of money on them and have worn them once. It’s a sin.” 

One thing is for sure, you did spend a lot of money on them, charging them to your dads credit card. 

One change and two shots of vodka later, you were walkin down the steps of your condo to an awaiting Steve. He’s in dark jeans, a black t-shirt and a gray jacket. His hair is just as perfect as the last time you saw him. (which was via instagram… gotta do the research right?)

He whistles long and low as you approach, and in a quick stroke of confidence you decide to do a little spin. He claps slowly as you face him and so, you bow. Just slightly so you don’t accidentally flash him. Not the way you want to start this date. 

“Well hello to you too, Harrington,” you say as you smirk. 

He slips his hand in his pockets, a smirk on his lips that you feel right between your legs. “You look very pretty tonight, sweetheart. I mean you’d look pretty in a potato sac but,” he shrugs. “We should get going.” 

You smile and nod at him. 

And the bar is clearly in fuckin hell, because him opening the door for you makes you want to jump his bones. But then again, no man has ever opened a door for you so… we can let it slide. 

“Such a gentleman.” “Chivalry is not dead sweetheart.” 

… 

Steve is very thoughtful. Sure, he asked all the usual questions you ask on a first date. 

What’s your major?

Do you have any siblings?

What do your parents do for work?

Oh, your dad is in sales? Funny mine too.

He gives you guilt money? Mine too! Look at us 

He also, orders you and him a bottle of wine (he has great taste) but lets you order your own meal (again the bar is in fucking hell). The place he takes you to is nice and the food is the best food you’ve had since you left home after summer break. 

“So Steve, what made you decide to open up a bar in town?” You eat a spoonful of dessert, eyes never leaving his. 

He takes a spoonful of his own dessert. “I was sick of working for everyone else. I knew if I made a unique bar, something you and your friends have never seen, others would want to check it out. Then you’d tell all your friends, who’d tell their friends, etc.” He grins as he talks, keeping eye contact with you. 

It felt like a game of ‘who is going to look away first.’ A game you weren’t going to lose. Slowly, you pull the spoon out of your mouth, dipping it back in to your dessert. “Interesting. Great concept if you ask me.” 

He huffs a small laugh through his nose, “I’m glad you enjoyed my bar.” 

You scrunch your brows, the wine making you bold, “who said I enjoyed it?” 

Now he really laughs, “you seemed to really enjoy all those lemon drop martinis. So much so you had a hangover the next day. I tried giving you waters but you threatened to gut me.” 

Your jaw hangs open, “fibber.” 

“I haven’t been called a fibber since I was a kid,” he smiles. “But yes you did tell me you would gut me. And then you left and I thought I’d never hear from you again.” 

You can’t help but feel slightly guilty inside for not calling sooner. Well, you did call sooner but chickened out. 

“And here we are.” 

“Yes, here we are.” 

He seems to think for a moment, sipping his wine (one he ordered that would go well with the dessert. He was right.)

“Wanna get out of here, sweetheart?” He looks up at you through his lashes, tongue rolling down the inside of his cheek. 

He wasn't… demanding. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that you could turn him down. That he would take you home with a smile on his face. There would be no fuss, no fight, no name calling. No pressure. 

And for that very reason, with a smile on your pretty face you answer him, “yours or mine?” 

… 

You’re not even through the door of his apartment before his mouth is on yours, his large hands on your face. The kiss starts soft, testing the waters and it isn’t very long before you deepen it. Your tongues dance but there is no fight for dominance, you let him win. You want him to win. 

His lips trail over your jaw before slowly moving down your neck, gently nipping at your skin. 

“Such a pretty girl,” he says in between kisses. 

He sucks a bruise into your shoulder, easy to cover up, just in case. You let out a soft moan, hands coming up to tug at his hair. 

“You-you’re pretty too.” 

You can feel him grin against you, head lifting as his body cages you in, “I don’t think anyone has ever called me pretty. Well besides Eddie but that was mocking.” 

You laugh, moving in and kissing him slowly, sweetly, “you are a very pretty boy.” 

You can feel his hard dick jerk at the sentiment, and you keep it as a mental note. You know, just in case you need it. 

“Fuck, can’t say shit like that.” 

“No? Why not?” 

“Cause it makes my cock hard. And it’ll be very embarrassing if I cum in my pants. Can't ruin my reputation.” The smirk on his face makes you almost pass out. You swear to God you can feel every word in your core. 

“Hmmm, we can’t have that can we?” You push his jacket off his shoulders before running your hands down to the hem of his shirt. “Should take me to bed so we don’t risk you cumin’ early.” 

It’s all the permission he needs. His lips are back on yours, his hands under your ass and picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, hands in his hair as he carries you to the bed. 

He puts you down gently, his lips never leaving yours. Not for a moment. Not until he pulls away to tug his shirt over his head. You take the moment to take him in, his body lithe and toned.  You also can’t help noticing the scars on his side that look a little like bite marks. Bite marks from something that isn’t human, something you make a mental note to ask him about at a later date. 

“Sculpted from marble, god damn.” You don’t mean to say it out loud, never wanting to stroke a man's ego. 

Steve just grins as he finds the zipper on the side of your dress, pulling it down slowly down, his knuckles slowly touching your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You shiver under the touch and he notices. You’re quickly learning that Steve notices everything.

It isn’t long before he’s pulling the dress down your body, leaving you in only your underwear. Underwear that barely covers you, a wet patch on full display. If it was anyone else, you’d be embarrassed. 

“Are you this wet for me?” His tone is mocking and he’s practically cooing at you, “go on. Answer me.” 

Your eyes widen. Men have been demanding in the bedroom, plenty of them thinking they’re little tough guys. But none of them get that from you, none of them deserving. You’re not sure why you want to give that to him. You’re not sure what makes him different. And honestly, that is a problem for future you to talk about in therapy. 

“Yes,” you reply, voice a little higher than usual. “S’all for you.” 

The smirk he gives you makes your heart speed up. “Such a sweet, pretty thing. God, I want to devour you.” 

His lips move to your chest, sucking a peaked nipple into his mouth. You can’t help but arch into his mouth, a small moan falling from your lips, his hand coming to play with your neglected breast. And it isn’t long before he swaps sides, his teeth nipping and sucking. 

“Please. More.” 

He laughs, moving to oblige you and kissing down your sternum before settling between your legs. “May I?” 

Him asking makes your heart stutter in your chest, “yes. God yes. Please.” 

Steve tugs your underwear down your legs, tossing them to meet the rest of the clothes on the floor. “I think I could get used to praying to me.” 

He doesn’t give you time to answer before he licks up your cunt, stopping at the top to suck on your clit. The moan that comes out of you is loud and you’re thankful the windows are closed. “Fuck, Steve!” 

He pushes a finger inside of you, curling them to reach the spongy spot inside you. “And you moaning my name is even better. Why don’t you do it again, angel” 

He pushes another finger inside you, the burn causing you to grip his hair. “Steve please!” 

“Please what, sweetheart?” 

He moves his fingers faster, continuing to hit your sweet spot over and over again. His mouth moves to your clit, sucking gently. He keeps his eyes on you, observing, listening to every sweet moan and sigh that comes out of you. He files them away in his brain so he never forgets what drives you crazy. 

“Need to… I-I need” 

He sucks hard before pulling back, “need what? Go on, use your words.” 

You gasp, “to cum. I- please.” 

Begging wasn’t what you did for men. If anything, they begged you. Begged you to let them cum. 

Steve doesn’t say a word, just grins and uses his free hand to press on your stomach. That is your undoing. “Steve!” You pulse around his fingers, breath getting caught in your chest. You feel warm all over, head emptying as he works you through it. 

“That’s it baby. That’s a good girl. Bet that feels so good doesn’t it?” 

You try to answer, you really do. But all you can manage is a small nod. 

“Gonna let me fuck you?” 

Again, you can only manage a nod. 

“That’s my girl.” 

And before you can even process his words, he flips you over on your stomach, hands pulling your hips in the air. You’re on full display for him. He can see everything. But you couldn't care less, all you want is him inside you. 

And you get your wish. He moves slow, making sure he doesn’t hurt you. He’s big and you can feel every inch of him stretching you. It’s a tight fit even with how wet you are. 

“Holy shit this pussy is amazing baby. Squeezing me so tight.” 

His other hand braces himself by your head before dropping down to his forearms. He’s so close to you now, inside and out, his hips moving slowly so you adjust to him, and his breath fanning across your face. 

“F-faster. Faster.” Your hands rake down his back, nails digging into his back, making him hiss. 

He snaps his hips faster, grinning down at you. “Just so needy huh?” 

You nod feverishly, “yes. F-feels so fucking good.” 

He laughs at you now, kisses you. “Such a dirty mouth, baby. Pretty girls aren’t supposed to swear.” 

“Says-says you… swear all the time. L-like a sailor.” 

He hums. “Dirty mouth for a dirty fuckin girl.” 

“That-that’s me.”

He fucks you faster and you feel like coil growing tighter and tighter inside you. You wrap your legs around his waist, not wanting him to get too far away. He groans and you can tell he’s close. 

“Want… no need you to cum inside me. I’ll d-die if you don’t,” you beg. You know you’ll probably regret it in the morning, all that you’ve said here in this bedroom. But at the moment you can’t find it inside you to care. Mainly because he was taking up every inch of you. 

“Yeah? Need it? I’ll give it to you baby. Will give you anything you want.” 

And it’s all you need to fall over the edge, walls clenching around him so hard he falls with you. A mutual “fuck!” falls from both your and his lips. 

You're both panting as you come down from the high. He pushes your hair out of your face and kisses you sweetly. Suddenly Steve is giggling, his head falling into the crook of your neck.

“What? Why are you laughing?” you ask with just a little bit of worry. 

“I am so fucking glad you ordered a lemon drop martini.”

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

My Place or Yours? [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Reader doesn't like weddings, kissing.

Summary: You're being tortured at a wedding, but there is a man there who saves your evening.

Words: 1,550

A/N: This is written for the Summer Lovin' challenge by @pedgito, who also made the moodboard. I picked the theme 'wedding', which was a weird choice for me because I really hate weddings, but I got Joel to help me get through it. Enjoy!

”I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Had those magic words only been the end of your misery, this day would have been easy-peasy. But no, you wouldn’t get off the hook that easily. It was only the beginning of an evening filled with awkward speeches, parental tears, and drunk best men giving dubious toasts.

You just don’t do weddings well. Anyone you ever talked to would tell you that it’s because you’ve been burned, because you’re single, ”once you find Mr Right you’ll start to plan your own wedding!”, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe that’s true, but with your disposition, it doesn’t seem likely that you’ll ever understand the point of paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for one single day during which both your parents get to watch you make out after a minister has sprinkled some magic words over the two of you. It’s just not in your nature. You never dreamed about a fairytale wedding when you were little, and you thought your friends would wise up when you got older, but no. As soon as the question was popped, they all reverted back to their childhood selves, and began planning as if for the event of the millennia.

You’ve been to three weddings these last few years, and it doesn’t get any easier. It’s embarrassing, lavish, awkward, and weird. And as always, you’re there without a partner, and must sit there with a fake smile plastered on your face, with no one to bitch to. At least you’re not the only single one at this wedding; that’s happened before, and even if you didn’t mind being single, you were definitely feeling blue when you got home that night.

At least dinner is good. This particular bride isn’t following any fad diets that she’s forcing on everybody, so you’re enjoying a really delicious three course meal. Still, what would a wedding dinner be without interruptions in the form of long, meandering speeches? You are forced to put down your cutlery one too many times, and by the time you’re finishing your delicious medium rare steak, it’s already cold. Chasing leftover sauce with a piece of bread, you nod encouragingly at the waiter asking you if you want more wine. You want to ask them to leave the bottle, but they probably wouldn’t find it funny.

Too tired to make polite conversation, you start to wait for the unofficial break between main course and dessert, when people get up to stretch their legs. It’s your opportunity to get away for a bit. You even have a modus operandi for it: you bum a cigarette from one of the smokers even though you’ve never smoked, go to the side, and pretend to smoke it for as long as you can. If the venue is nice, you then walk around and inspect it. This wedding offers a lot in that aspect: it’s a big house, almost a mansion, in the countryside, with a park and lots of smaller, old buildings on the premises. Perfect for hiding, and then you can just return back to the dining-hall late and blame getting lost.

When the break finally is announced, you let the smokers leave first. By the time they're greedily sucking on their cigarettes, you show up and ask for one. Cigarette in hand, and nod in agreement with the light conversation: yes, it was a beautiful ceremony, yes, the dinner is delicious, yes, the bride is so pretty and the groom so handsome. Eventually, you make a break for it, saying something about wanting to see the premises. So you walk away, flicking away the pillar of ash on your unsmoked cigarette.

The din of the house grows distant as you walk across the yard, shamelessly dropping the cigarette and crushing it with your foot before heading for the garden, quickly as if to escape the disgusting smoke. Once you reach the first, fragrant rose bushes, you start to relax. You find a bench and sink down on it with a relieved sigh. The light breeze smells of oleander, the birds are chirping, and it's pleasantly warm. Perfect.

You dig into your evening bag and check your phone. No messages, of course: most of your friends are at the wedding. Putting the phone away to instead enjoy the garden, you remain seated for a little longer than you know is considered polite. When you finally rise to go back, you notice someone approaching you. A man, around your age, a friend of the groom's, you think, but you've never talked to him.

"Hi," he calls out. "You okay?"

"Sure," you nod easily, "I just needed some air."

"A lot calmer here, isn't it?" He's standing in front of you now, all broad shoulders and narrow hips. Very handsome, but you're feeling defensive, and when your answer delays a little too long, he clears his throat.

"Sorry. Hi." He extends his right hand. "Joel. I'm a friend of Mark's."

You take his hand and give him your name. He doesn't let go immediately after shaking your hand.

"Nice to meet you." That smile. Goddammit, that's a charming smile. When his warm hand finally unclasps yours, you want to reach for it again.

"Can I help you, Joel?" you ask instead, trying to sound unperturbed.

"I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

He shrugs lightly, passing a hand over his hair. A curl bounces back to gently lick his forehead.

"You just looked like you weren't maybe having such a good time."

Well, shit. You thought you  had been keeping a straight face, but clearly you had failed. Your gaze flickers, and you clear your throat.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not good at weddings.”

He chuckles low, but not maliciously.

“It shows.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to keep a straight face for all these hours,” you snap, a little harsher than intended. Joel holds his hand to his chest.

“Didn’t mean to offend you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry. We better get back before they send out a search party.”

“Hey, lemme make it up to you. Can I have the first dance with you?”

Frowning, you eye him, expecting him to be joking. But his gaze is open and honest.

“Sure,” you eventually smile. “Find me when the dancing starts.”

And so it is that after dessert and another couple of meandering speeches, after the bride and groom have danced their first dance, Joel finds you in the crowd. He leads you to the dancefloor with a steady hand, and when he puts his arm around your waist, you don’t mind that his hand comes to a rest a little lower than expected. He keeps eye contact, but not in a creepy way as he makes small talk, asking you about your life more than he talks about his own. He seems genuinely interested in you, and that makes your head swim more than the alcohol.

When the music changes to something more energetic, you pull him to the side.

“Not my cup of tea,” you explain, and he nods, seemingly happy with being off the dancefloor as people begin to shake their asses.

“A drink?”

“Sure.”

He takes you to the bar and you both get drinks. The bride and her bridesmaids are cheering loudly on the dancefloor, and the noise is beginning to wear you down.

“Let’s go out?” you suggest to Joel, who nods.

There are some people scattered around the yard, but the garden is empty. The smell of roses is even stronger now when the hour is late, and you notice that you’re actually enjoying yourself. Joel is so easy to talk to, you’re comfortable in his company, and he makes you laugh.

“Hey,” you finally say. “Thanks for not being weird about me not liking weddings.”

“Why would I be weird about it?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Because everybody loves weddings, and I just can’t,” you shrug, but with a hint of desperation in your voice. “And if you don’t like them, then you’re just bitter and probably in need of the right person to have your own wedding with.”

He’s quiet for a moment, sips his drink.

“I know I can keep a secret,” he starts, his voice low, “but can you?”

“I can.”

“I don’t like weddings, either.”

You stare at him for a moment before slapping his arm.

“You could’ve told me earlier!”

He laughs. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“Asshole!” you blurt out, but can’t say more, because Joel’s lips are on yours, and you drop your glass on the gravel where it shatters, splashing liquor over your feet. And you don’t give a single goddamn. Your hands come up to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and you kiss him back, tasting the whiskey on him, a peppery twang from the steak he had earlier, the bristles on his face scratching your skin.

When you finally have to step back to take a breather, he licks his lips and looks at you with heavy-lidded, dreamy eyes.

“Not too soon?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Just perfect.”

He grins. “How soon d’you think it would be polite to leave?”

“I don’t care, we’ve suffered enough. My place or yours?”

[teddynivvy]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ starry eyes

pairing: neighbour!ted nivison x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption. she/her pronouns used, use of y/n. 2k words.

a/n: the neighbour!ted fic is here hehehe!! fully intend on doing a part 2 so don't be too mad at me for this one. this is angsty!!! very much mutual pining trope. thank u to the anon who sent me this idea. it means so much to me if you reblog/leave comments/interact if u enjoy <3

⟡⟡⟡

when i'm alone i hear and feel you wish that i could reach right out and touch you but knowing you're the one to greet me, and meet me two alone in the dark, may it be.

“Hey, I’m having a few people over later tonight. You should come by.”

It’s said with a bag of groceries in his hand, silver frames falling down the bridge of his nose. You can see the packaging of the drinks out of the top of the tote bag, against the blue of his jeans, as your eyes travel up to meet his. 

Your neighbour, Ted, inviting you over for a party. The neighbour you’ve been crushing on for the better part of the last few months - you’ve cooked dinner in his apartment, had more movie nights than you can count, and shared all of your best stories with each other. It didn’t help that you could hear him through the extremely thin walls, offering more material for you to imagine about him, your hands between your thighs and picturing how his would feel in their place.

It’s easy with him, comfortable conversations under amber lamps in your apartment, and it was easy to imagine him slotting into your life. But you knew it was stupid to mess with your living situation and pursue something - this was the best apartment you’ve lived in since you moved to LA, and the last thing you wanted to do was jeopardize it.

So when he invites you over to his place for a party, to meet his friends, to be inserted into his life in some small way - you don’t really know what to say. He can sense that something’s off, that maybe you have plans, so he detracts.

“No worries if not, it’ll just be a small thing.”

You pull the keys from your lock and relax, turning back to look at him. Soft eyes, again, which allows you to breathe.

“Yes, sorry. Yes. That sounds fun. I’ll be there.”

The smile that spreads across his features as he dips too quickly into his apartment makes you blush furiously, letting your back press up against the wood of your door. Your purse finds its way onto the counter as you look at the time on the stove - mid afternoon, more than enough time to get ready. Ready in the way you look effortless - “just came over like this” type, even though Ted’s seen you in every outfit at this point. Taking the garbage out in your robe and not much else, getting home from work in a tight pair of black slacks and a button up that stretches across your torso in a way that forces his eyes to your waist, or in your sweatpants and sweatshirt when you knock on his door with a bag of microwave popcorn and a bar of his favourite chocolate. 

He knows you, more deeply and intimately than you may want to admit.

⟡⟡⟡

When Ted knows you’re coming to his get-together, he goes into overdrive. His friends had been over many times - seen the worst of his apartment, clothes strewn across the floor and piles of dishes, and he knows they don’t care. But he’s trying to make a good impression, despite the fact he’d probably consider you one of his closest friends at this point.

Something about having you over like this is making his head spin. He’s meticulously picking out an outfit, taking what he’s heard you call an “everything shower”, making sure his hair looks fucking perfect. He wishes he wasn’t so hell-bent on impressing you, but he can’t help but feel this is a bit of a litmus test of your relationship. Assuming you show up, of course.

Little does Ted know, you’re across the hall thinking the same exact thing.

Putting on a dress - taking it off. A cardigan and jeans - taking it off. Should you just wear fucking pyjamas at this point?

By the time you had picked something out, it was almost time to go over. You could hear the people funnelling into his apartment from behind your closed door, soft chuckles and the slaps of hands in high fives and handshakes as he invites people in. You can pick his laughter out of the group, deep and throaty, which you know comes from the small buzz he already has going. You also know that after a couple beers he gets touchy - a hand on your leg or a head on your shoulder on more than one occasion, usually when he’s falling asleep during a movie night. You don’t say anything.

You grab the unopened bottle of wine from your counter and check your hair and outfit once more, forcing yourself to leave before you started to overthink it. It's just Ted.

⟡⟡⟡

When you push open the door to Ted’s apartment, there’s more people than you thought there would be. Friends fill his kitchen and living room, some out on his patio sipping from brightly coloured drinks or taking drags from cigarettes. You spot Ted immediately, t-shirt hanging off of his body in the perfect way. It clings to his chest and arms, a soft tuft of chest hair peeking out from the neckline under his chain. His usual silver rings adorn his fingers, a beer pressed up against his lips as he makes eye contact with you. He earns a soft smile, tipping the drink from his lips and waving you over to where he was standing with a small group.

You put the bottle of wine on his counter and walk through the swarms of bodies, making your way over to him. The setting sun is bleeding pink and orange light into his apartment, illuminating him from behind as he towers over you. Flushed cheeks from the alcohol and a soft hand on your shoulder as he bends down, lips against the shell of your ear as he tells you how happy he is you came. “You look good.”

It’s enough for your cheeks to warm, embarrassingly so.

There’s two men across from him - who introduce themselves quickly as Charlie and Schlatt, with a small wave. You make small talk with them - learning that Schlatt had travelled from Texas to visit, hence why Ted was hosting this party. You told them that you were Ted’s neighbour, which earned raised eyebrows from both of them, a knowing look being shot at Ted. When you looked over and up at him, he was blushing furiously, awkwardly pressing the bottle to his lips once more.

Ted’s friends were easy to talk to, most of them having appeared in some of his videos (which you would never admit, you did do a quick Google search to watch - for research purposes, obviously). They all seemed to work in the same Youtube niche as him, with nothing but great things to say. It was making you fall harder and harder.

By your second glass of wine and an enthralling conversation with another friend of Ted’s - Eddy, and his girlfriend Chrissy, you were starting to wonder why you hadn’t seen Ted in a while. The fairy lights had come on on the patio, and they were bright against the smoggy night sky of LA. Your vision was slightly blurred, soft on the edges and hazy, as the music playing over the speakers blended into the background against the conversations around you. You stood up and excused yourself to the bathroom, hoping you might run into Ted on the way there.

And you did. Well, kind of.

Sliding past a group on your way up the stairs, Ted stood at the end of the hallway. He was talking to someone near the door of his bedroom, his eyes pointed down at a petite girl, with long brown hair and her eyes looking up at him like he hung the moon. You couldn’t help but stare for a second at the scene before you, a familiar pang in your chest as your breath hitched. 

The sinking feeling - embarrassment, awkwardness, disappointment all rolled into one. A girlfriend, maybe? A hookup? Whatever it was, you weren’t super interested in hanging around to find out.

You dipped into the bathroom just as Ted’s head turned to look at you, his gaze falling to the door. He swore he could see the pant leg of your jeans and the slight swish of your hair as he heard the door click. 

The girl in front of him had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, glazed-over eyes from the alcohol as Ted’s blood ran cold, imagining what it must’ve looked like from your perspective. 

She put a hand on his chest and he gently backed away, muttering an apology and bounding down the stairs away from the situation. He felt stupid - sobering up damn near immediately at the thought of what he just did.

Ted had basically told all of his closest friends about his cute neighbour. Schlatt and Charlie hadn’t heard the end of it - goading him to just make a fucking move already. Schlatt had threatened to out him on the podcast, affectionately telling him to “stop being a pussy or he’d tell you himself.” He had invited you with the intention of making a move.

When Schlatt sees the panicked look on his face, his face softens as well. He meets Ted in the kitchen, putting his glass of whiskey on the counter with a gentle clunk.

“What’s up with you? You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“(Y/N).”

Schlatt cocks an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“She saw me and Shae upstairs.”

“Why is Shae here?”

Ted sighs, letting his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “I don’t even know. I didn’t invite her.”

“Tell her to get the fuck out then!”

As Schlatt says it, she comes down the stairs. The aforementioned petite girl, with a roll of her eyes, as she slides her glass across Ted’s countertop and dramatically slams the door behind her. It earns the attention from a few surrounding people, who quickly go back to their conversations.

“What happened?”

“She saw us.”

“Ted,” Schlatt grabs him by the shoulders. “Saw you do what?”

“Nothing happened. She cornered me upstairs and started touching my chest and fuckin’… telling me she missed me and shit. I don’t know.”

“Dude… you gotta go tell (Y/N). I thought you were finally gonna fuckin’ tell her how you felt, you idiot.”

Ted rolls his eyes. “What do I say? Hey, sorry, you saw me with my batshit crazy ex but it’s literally nothing, also I’m in love with you and have been for months?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence before Schlatt shakes his head, backing away from Ted to rejoin the party. “Don’t be a fucking idiot bro. You’re gonna ruin this before it starts.”

He heard foot steps behind him and turned around, seeing you descend the stairs. A small sniffle from your nose that you try to hide, meeting his eyes with a watery smile.

“We didn’t get to talk much tonight,” is what Ted says, which doesn’t seem like the right thing to say, and he realizes it the moment it leaves his lips.

“I’m gonna get going,” you choke out, attempting to hide the fact you’d just been unsuccessfully holding back tears a few minutes ago. “Great party.”

He opens his mouth to explain, but he doesn’t know what to say. “That wasn’t…” he starts. “That wasn’t anything.”

It’s left unsaid, what that means. Your hurt gaze was enough for him to soften, watching you step away from him. He can tell you don’t believe him.

He feels like a stranger suddenly, as you pull the door open and feel the tears brim your eyes once again. “Thanks for inviting me.”

The soft click of the door is enough for him to finally let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wanted to punch a fucking wall, he felt sick.

The party thinned out quickly after that, people bidding Ted goodbye and thanking him for hosting. Schlatt was the last to leave - a somber smile and a clap on his shoulder. “Sorry it didn’t work out like you wanted.”

Understatement of the fucking century. 

⟡⟡⟡

[24hlevi]

Hello,, how are you?

If it's ok, could I please request kissing headcanons with Nagi, Chigiri, Bachira, Rin and Sae?

hello! im doing alright, im actually writing this while waiting for my bllk vol 3 to arrive that i preordered lol

— 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐂𝐬 𝐖/ 𝐁𝐥𝐥𝐤 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬

Blue Lock Boys (Nagi, Chigiri, Bachira, Rin, & Sae) X Gn!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Language

• at first, nagi didn't really get the point of kissing, he thought it was weird and that there was other things/ways to prove you're in a relationship

• but after watching a few movies with reo (who forced him to) he sort of understood and it would start with little pecks on the cheek much before actually kissing

• he knew he loved you, obviously, so he was going to try and make sure he showed it, at least try even if it didn't work

• the first kiss with nagi was...a mess, he had no clue what he was doing, trying to follow reo's advice but it was only making it worse 💀

• he was very awkward and hesitant that you just told him it was okay if he wanted to wait on actual kissing and sticking with short pecks

• this mans was not having that, so he instead would continue to try and kiss you better, and after some time he did get better at it!

• nagi doesn't particularly enjoy PDA, but after a game he will always pick you up and kiss you whether the team won or not, and it's surprisingly more passionate each time

• sometimes his kisses can get sloppy, but that's just because he doesn't always know what he's doing or how to do it, he just wants to express it somehow that he does really love you

• kisses with bachira are very unexpected and unpredictable, but that's just how he is so don't fret

• very playful with his kisses, he will randomly grab your face and just started peppering kisses all over your face and especially if he's asking for something

• also he will kiss you anywhere, face, hands, shoulders, anywhere his lips can touch he will kiss, would also kiss your head but probably end up getting hair in his mouth and spitting it out 💀

• he will show he loves you mostly through kisses and actions, so expect a lot of kissing with this boy

• the first kiss with bachira was eventful, he had won a match with his team and literally ran up to you and just kissed you without saying anything, grinning widely after when he felt you kiss back

• bachira is never awkward with his kisses and goes straight in with no hesitation, and will do it at the most random (and worst) times possible even if they're messy

• sometimes when bachira gets desperate and you won't kiss him he'll just suddenly grab your face and kiss you with more emotion than most of the other times which shocks you, but that's what he wants

• this boy does not give a single fuck about PDA, he'll kiss you whenever and wherever he wants! he also loves it when people get jealous because then he just sticks out his tongue like ":P ha"

• kissing chigiri is like out of a literal disney movie like 😵‍💫

• he is just magically amazing at kissing, slow, passionate and loving, literally perfect there's nothing wrong with him

• he likes holding onto your hands while kissing or his hand resting on your cheek because he says he feels closer to you that way

• the first kiss with chigiri was pretty perfect, he took you out during the winter at night to look at the city and christmas decorations while drinking hot chocolate and he kissed you in front of the giant christmas tree 🤧

• chigiri ADORES forehead kisses, whether it's him doing it or you he's a sucker for them, he just thinks it's so cute

• he's the type to ask if he can kiss you before doing it (i want him)

• would totally remake kissing scenes/images from movies with you and post the pictures beside each other bragging about you

• chigiri is pretty iffy on PDA, while he does hold hands with you always and gives small pecks, he'd get embarrassed if he fully kissed you in public, especially in front of his friends

• rin thought kissing was stupid at first honestly 💀 he thought it was weird and gross at least before he met and started dating you, then he lightened up a little

• he still thought it was weird though so he didn't kiss you for a few months even after you two started dating until one day he was practicing alone with you watching him and he couldn't focus at all, so you told him you knew a way and you kissed him which then started the beginning of rin's obsession for kissing you

• if practicing which was almost always, every time he made a goal you would kiss him which surprisingly worked which you honestly didn't think would but it made him work harder and do better so 🤷‍♂️

• rin prefers to kiss you on your hand or forehead if he can't directly kiss your lips, if he's holding your hand he'll just out of nowhere lift your hand up to his lips and kiss it but act like he didn't do anything

• he gets flustered easily if you initiate the kiss, on rare occasions he will blush because he's never been treated like this before and he was so used to acting like his brother that he forgot he was his own person, not his brother's shadow

• the only times he will genuinely kiss you is when you two are alone whether in his room or on a date because it's private and he feels confident to do it when there's no one else to possibly see or poke fun at him

• his kisses are honestly a mess of emotions, and can vary at any moment, sometimes he's aggressive with it if he's desperate, sometimes he'll be slow and think through every second, or he'll just smash his lips against yours and call it a kiss of sorts

• rin hates hates HATES PDA, he would rather die than be spotted by the other blue lock contenders kissing you or doing any form of affection with you, but he will interlock your pinky finger with his when walking around

• sae also thought kissing was stupid, but he also thought dating was stupid until he started dating you, so there's that 😭

• you are quite literally the only person he enjoys being around and can tolerate, he hates everyone else pretty much, so just to get on his good side is a surprise

• the most he would do in the beginning is kiss the top of your head and maybe your hand, but it took a while to actually kiss you

• the first kiss with sae was interesting to say the least, he was arguing with rin about something and kept putting him down so you took initiative and shut him up by kissing him, shocking both brothers, let's just say it worked and they stopped fighting

• since then sae started kissing you, usually as a hello or goodbye kiss but then into thank you kisses and then just doing them for no reason

• he tries to act all cool about it and shit but he feels all giddy on the inside when he's kissing you, and it's obvious to you at least

• sae's kisses are most of the time quick and without much thought, but there are times where he does put emotion and passion into it, usually after a match or if he's feeling confident enough

• sae also hates PDA, especially when he has a reputation and people know him, so he tries to steer away from that when anywhere he goes people are trying to talk to him, he will have an arm wrapped around you though and occasionally kiss your temple