#em’s fic recs 💙

[billys-pretty-babe]

I love this so much

The LifeGuard

Billy Hargrove x Fem!reader

Flufftober 2024

You end up matching with your ex at a Halloween party

You were elbow deep in makeup, trying to get your lips perfectly glossed and your hair as neat as you could manage. You wanted to look good tonight. It would be the first big party that you’d be arriving single and you wanted people to know that. You were ready to leave with someone tonight. 

It was cold this Halloween, but you did your best to pretend like your legs weren’t frozen. You figured the more you drank and interacted with people, the warmer you’d grow. So then it wouldn’t feel like you really were parading around in a little red swimsuit. But you figured if Pamela Anderson could do it, so could you.

You wiggled your way back through the crowd, falling into your group of friends as you quickly observed any suspects that may catch your eye later in the night. You weren’t spending one more night alone. 

“Did you guys mean to match?” One of your friends brought up, her eyebrows cocked as she looked over your shoulder. You turned in confusion. 

“What do you mean?” You asked as you continued to nurse your cup in your hand, turning your eyes away from someone with dark brown eyes. 

“You and Billy,” She laughed, “He’s dressed as a lifeguard too.” She pointed through the crowd, making your eyes narrow for a moment. There was no way. 

“You’re kidding me,” You told her seriously, heart thumping harshly in your chest, “No he’s not.” You denied it before you even saw him, determined that she was messing with you in some cruel way. 

“Look and see.” 

Shit. Fuck. She was right. Billy was across the room, laughing loudly with a pretty girl. It made your chest ache, but you quickly shook that feeling away before it could linger. You didn’t want to know if he had a new girlfriend or fling. That wasn’t your business anyways.

You were irritated with how good he looked. His dirty blonde curls brushed against his shoulders, grown out from the last time you’d seen him. His skin was golden despite the colder months, like he was still managing to get out and tan. His chest was slick with something wet, probably beer or sweat. 

His lips looked as tempting as ever, red and soft as you briefly let your gaze fall to them as he spoke. Your eyes drifted up further, just barely catching his blue hue before you snapped your gaze away. 

“I did not match him,” You huffed as you shook your head, not wanting your confidence to dull, “He just wanted a chance to show off.” You stated in irritation, pretending like you hadn’t seen the red swimming trunks he had on.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” She asked you, making you scoff in response. Maybe. But it wasn’t fair for Billy to ruin your fun time. And he wouldn’t. You were going to pretend like he didn’t even exist. 

You did your best to avoid him the rest of the night, but it was like he didn’t notice you were there anyways. He didn’t scan the crowds for you or seem to be questioning your whereabouts either.

You were working on your fourth cup of punch when fate cruelly carved your paths. He swaggered into the kitchen, not a car in the world as he dumped his cup into the punch bowl, ignoring the spoon entirely. 

“Hey,” Billy whistled lowly as his eyes scanned over you, his eyebrows raising and lips curling into a smirk, “Well, look at that.” He teased you, his reaction making little goosebumps spread across your skin. God you hated him and his handsome looks. 

“Go away.” You replied in irritation, shaking your head as you took another sip from your cup. You didn’t want to deal with him, not right now. Or ever. 

“I see you’re pleasant,” He hummed, his eyes lingering at the way the swimsuit cut into your thighs, “What a coincidence.” He snorted, gesturing down towards his own swimming suit. 

“You’re not dressed up.” You snapped back quickly, frowning as you shook your head. He wasn’t. He was just being a jerk. 

“What do you mean?” He asked you, cocking his dark eyebrows at you. You took another big gulp from your cup, trying to keep yourself from getting too angry. 

“I mean you worked as a lifeguard,” You scoffed as you shook your head, holding your arms tighter over your chest, “So it doesn’t count.” You said easily, shrugging your shoulders softly. 

“Awe,” He grinned, lips curling up in a mocking way, “I’m very flattered that you’re still thinking about me.” He teased as he rested his palm over his chest, making you snort. 

“I’m not.” You told him seriously. You hadn’t thought about him a while. And you wouldn’t ever think of him again. Even if that sounded immature. 

“Sounds like you are.” He moved a little closer to you, making you recall the last time you had seen him. You didn’t understand how he could always make you feel so angry. 

“I’m just irritated that you always have to ruin everything.” You finally pointed your finger towards him, feeling like this was falling down the path of your last conversation you'd had with him. 

“What did I ruin this time?” He asked dryly, looking less than interested as he took a gulp from his cup. The liquid that was on the side of the plastic dripped from it, falling onto his golden skin. 

“My fun,” You replied, not caring how immature you sounded, “You’re always getting up in my business.” You knew you probably sounded too highly of yourself, but it was irritating. You didn’t like knowing that he already had girls flocking to him and you hadn’t had one guy ask you to dance yet. 

“You’re the one that’s irritated,” He chuckled, “I think you look good.” He said at last, blue eyes twinkling in mischief as you felt your anger melt away. Just like that. Suddenly you didn’t need attention from anyone else. Just him. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled softly as you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to keep from showing yourself off. 

“Sexy.” He added a second later, biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes scanned over your body once again. You narrowed your eyes. He was not getting that lucky tonight. 

“I hate you.” You stated as you held your hand on your hip, not enjoying the way his eyes continued to linger on your body and not your eyes. What a pervert. 

“Do you?” He asked you, drifting his eyes up to face you. You felt your heart flip flop roughly inside of your chest as you met his gaze. God, you hated that he looked so good. 

“Will you go away if I say yes?” You asked him dryly, hoping that he would get the point. Even if he was being nice, you didn’t want to talk to him. 

“I missed you.” He stated softly, making your eyebrows crinkle together. He looked sincere too.

That surprised you. He hadn’t called you since the breakup, hadn’t shown up to your workplace or written to you. You didn’t get it. Why did he miss you now? 

“I did not come here to get back together with you,” You told him sternly, “Again.” You nodded your head after a second thought. You’d splitten up and gotten back together plenty of times before, but that wasn’t going to happen this time. 

“It’s pretty funny that we’re matching.” He stated with a lazy smile, bumping his elbow against yours. His skin was warm despite his little amount of clothing. It felt natural, right. 

“Don’t even try.” You told him, your tone more playful this time as you shoved at his arm. Your touch lingered for a second, sure that he must’ve been working out even harder in the months that you hadn’t seen him. 

“Maybe I could grab you a beer.” He suggested, flicking his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. Part of you wanted to grab his chin and kiss him. He was ridiculous. 

“One drink,” You replied, feeling your walls break down. You did miss him, “But that’s it. Nothing else. I’m not going home with you.” You told him honestly. You wouldn’t allow yourself to make that mistake again. To get hurt. 

“Mhm.” He replied, sounding all cocky as he took another sip from his cup. 

“Billy, I’m being serious.” You told him, moving your hand up a bit so you could poke his chest. You liked the way his skin felt on yours. 

“So am I,” He replied as he held his hands up in mock defeat, but his expression was still cocky, “One beer.” He reasoned you, leaving you to debate with his compromise for a second. 

“Just one.” You nodded your head, already knowing you were falling into a sticky trap. But he made it sound so good. So fun. 

God help you. 

[girl-named-matty]

Fanfic recs becauuuuuseeeee

HI IM HERE TO GIVE YOU SOME AMAZING AWESOME FANFIC RECS. YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GO READ THESE🫵 👁️👁️👍

How to make a Villain by @morelikeravenbore. I don't even have the words to describe this fic. It's so good. GO READ IT. Aurelie is such a queen and so awesome 💙

Legends of Frost: the Battle of Ancient Magic by @unveiledlegacy42 A fic by a friend of mine that I just started reading and it is *chefs kiss*. I loveeeee it and I love how it shows the culture of Japan. It's not often that I see that in fics so that was so cool!

Beside you till the very end by @endeavour12345 (ao3 ver) All of Deavs fics are just wonderful and a lot of them are real tear-jerker's too so get the tissues ready! His MC's father and son relationship with Fig-- ugh I just love it. He writes a lot for Sharp too! All of his fics are so great and definitely worth reading!! (his dead poets society fic is fire too!)

More than anything by @rypnami Char singlehandedly made me fall in love with Leander months ago after I was a huge hater. And just like they did that they also opened my mind to the endless ship possibilities, one of them being prewlow. Their fics for leander and seb are just 🤌and they have a very accurate and sweet portrayal of trans leander which I just love. Go check them out! <3

To withstand the force of storms by @plxnetn1ne Her entire MC/ OC lore is just wild and incredible. as sad as it makes me (LOL) I love hearing about it and she's so creative. so plsss plsss check it out

TheDeathWish by TheLastOneOut on Ao3! Again, just another amazing fic. They also have a 2nd one that is great too!! It was certainly healing. (everyone lives!!!)

so anyway GO CHECK EM OUT!!! OKAY BYEEEE <3

[crazybutgood]

By George, I'm hooked!

So a short while back, while searching for a fic featuring both human and crup George, I tagged a few people whose works I binged recently in a bid to try to recall the author. Amidst the embarrassing chaos where I tagged three guesses (before I finally found the fic written by a fourth), I figured I’d share what it is about these three authors’ writing that has me engaged so thoroughly and often. And to tie it all in a theme, I’ll drop a rec of their fics that feature George Weasley.

An assortment of delights 💝🍫

@schmem14 masterfully crafts the most delicious and unique ideas. Like a box of mystery-flavour chocolates, trying each one gives a new delightful experience of Em’s stories and interpretations of prompts, plots and pairings. And I find myself reaching for another, and another and another…

I have especially really enjoyed her collections where she takes on themes in her inimitably creative way. I’d really recommend checking out the George ones in her collections too, and for now I’ll leave you with this rec:

Peeling Potatoes (Harry/George) (T, 585)

George is still grieving Fred. Harry offers a moment of peace.

An immersive binge-a-thon 🎥🍿

@the-francakes' fics are such a vibe. She has me absolutely engrossed in a variety of stories; it really feels like a chill, cinematic experience. I love browsing through each enticing summary (and lovely banner!) of both old favourites and new updates. I’m always happily transported right there in the bubble of the world she’s created, rooting for the characters and absolutely flailing at the gorgeous plot, until I reach the end and float right along to the next one.

Here's a George rec from her catalogue:

Helping Hands™ (Hermione/George) (G, 1510)

George shows Hermione his new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product, Helping Hands™. And they help more than he expected.

A familiar comfort 😌💙

I always sink into @orange-peony's fics with the most satisfying feeling. Her fics are a pleasure to enjoy, curled up in bed with “entire work” clicked, squeeing, sobbing, smiling into a pillow. Her fics are always thrilling in their emotional rollercoaster, and never fail to warm my heart and make me just… feel with every fibre of myself. I absolutely love and crave that reading experience.

This fic is a quintessential example of that Peony experience:

Mirror, Mirror (Lee/George) (E, 22,759)

George feels a wave of relief washing over him at the thought that he still has time, that he can still get his shit together and stop feeling so utterly broken every single moment of the day, and then maybe he will be good enough for Lee. Sometimes he feels like the pain and the loss have woven through every fibre of his being, that his whole body is made out of grief, raw and wretched beyond repair. But then Lee takes his hand, or he threads his fingers through George’s hair, whispering something that George can only feel against his skin, lost words that make him shudder and reach for Lee, to feel him there and have him close. Real.

I hope you enjoy these fics, and check out these authors’ other works on their ao3s as well! Do remember to leave them some love 🥰 And as always, please mind the tags~

An eternal gratitude

Thanks to @stavromulabetaaa and @getawayfox for looking this over! (and for sparking the memory of the fic in the first place~) ❤️❤️

[billys-pretty-babe]

that last part hurt a little, won’t lie

Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

(Please reblog!!!)

Happy reading! Comment below to be added to taglist.

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: lots of angst (what's new lol) & cursing

Introduction | Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five

Masterlist

(song for this chapter <3)

Expressing feelings for someone is like navigating a minefield of emotions, each step filled with uncertainty and potential pitfalls. Why isn’t it easier to speak what’s inside our hearts instead of dancing around the truth until it’s too late?

Billy’s confession sent your mind into a tailspin, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat. Yet, when the moment came, your voice failed you, as if some invisible force clamped your mouth shut. 

Now, after a week and a half of silent contemplation, you've come to understand the tangled mess of emotions that kept you mute. Billy has morphed into an essential part of your life, straddling the line between friend and something more. Despite your unspoken desires, you've settled into a comfortable routine. You’re fine with being friends or whatever this situationship is because you’ve come to know a truth to it all. Never give more than you are willing to lose.

“I’m not understanding this chapter at all,” Billy's voice interrupts your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. “You okay?”

You nod, but your mind is elsewhere, lost in a whirlwind of worries. “This one does have some challenging plot points in it, but—”

“Can we stop with the bullshit?” Billy's tone is sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “I know something’s been eating at you for like a week now.” He leans in, his eyes searching yours with intensity.

You pause, feeling the weight of his gaze, and finally, the floodgates open. “I’ve just been stressed lately,” you admit, meeting his eyes with a mix of relief and trepidation. “Between helping my dad with bills, failing two tests, and college applications looming, it’s been overwhelming.”

“You know you can always tell me what’s going on. If you need help, I’m always here.” He looks around quickly before sliding his hand across the table to grab yours, giving it a squeeze.

“I know and I’m sorry I haven’t been myself lately.” 

“You don’t have to apologize for the hard shit.” Billy reassures you, his smile softening the edges of his words.

But before the moment can linger, Tommy and Carol intrude upon your private bubble. Billy withdraws his hand quickly and you feel a pang of disappointment, a silent plea for him to acknowledge what lies between you.

“Ready?” Tommy speaks up as he stands next to Billy’s chair, Carol’s arms wrapped around him. “This party tonight is going to be so wicked.” 

Billy nods, standing up with a forced smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“See you around freak.” Tommy remarks to you and Carol snickers as they start walking off. 

“I’ll call you later.” Billy whispers once the pair is out of earshot. 

“I’m working late again so I won’t be home.” You cross your arms with a clear annoyed look on your face. Billy understands that look and nods. 

“See you tomorrow.” He mutters and leaves. You sigh heavily and gather your books, slinging the bag over your shoulder to head home and get ready for work. 

The exhaustion weighs heavily on you tonight, exacerbated by the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant. The dimly lit space is filled with the chatter of patrons, the clinking of silverware, and the occasional burst of laughter. The air is thick with the scent of sizzling food and brewed coffee, mingling with the faint aroma of cigarette smoke that lingers despite the no-smoking signs.

Amidst the crowd of diners, mostly comprised of older men, you navigate the maze of tables and booths, balancing trays laden with plates and cups. The ambiance is tainted by the persistent advances of these patrons, their leering gazes and suggestive remarks casting a shadow over your evening.

But amidst the chaos, there is Mary, a beacon of familiarity and comfort in the tumult of the restaurant. An older waitress with a kind smile and a knowing gaze, she always has your back. Having known your mother during her time at the restaurant, Mary often remarks on the striking resemblance between you and her.

Tonight, as you confide in Mary about Billy, she offers sage advice while handing you a plate and coffee cup to serve. The worn countertop serves as your refuge, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the dining area.

“Do you really think he loves me?” You ask Mary as she hands you a plate and coffee cup to serve. 

“All I know from working so long around drunk men is that their sober thoughts really aren’t that much different from their wasted ones, especially when it comes to love,” Mary advises, her words carrying the weight of experience.

You place the plate and cup down for the customer at the countertop with a smile before turning back to Mary. “I'm at a loss for how to approach him. Billy's a complex guy, and I'm worried that if I lay my feelings out, it might push him away.”

“Darling, most men aren't angels after a few drinks.”

“Oh, he's not always like that when he's had a few. Just before that, he was in a heated argument. I couldn't even catch what set it off, but he was clearly riled up about something some guy said, and—”

“Sweetie, I have a feeling that guy's words were aimed at you.”

“What? No, nobody knows about us. I can't see how that could be related,” you respond, puzzled by Mary's interpretation of Billy's behavior.

“Are you sure about that?” Mary points behind you and you turn, finding Billy standing near the countertop with flowers in hand. You can’t help the instant smile that appears. 

“I thought there was a raging party going on tonight?” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes as Billy leans against the counter toward you.

“They’re all the same,” Billy responds with a chuckle, mirroring your stance as he leans closer. “Plus, there’s this girl who I’d rather spend my night with.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, heat creeping onto your cheeks despite your best efforts to conceal it. The air between you crackles with anticipation, the din of the restaurant fading into the background as you share this intimate moment.

“These are for you,” He extends the droopy flowers. “I saw them on the way here and thought you’d like them.” 

“Oh, I’ve never received flowers before,” You timidly grab the pink and yellow buds, placing them in one of your apron pockets. “Thank you. I don’t get off for another hour, if that’s okay.”

“I can wait.” Billy responds, pulling out a red stool at the counter and settling onto it. He reaches for the book you two have been reading together and flips it open.

You chuckle at the sight of him reading amidst the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. “Now that’s a sight to see.”

Billy grins, looking up from the book as you pour him a cup of coffee. “If you tell anyone, you’re dead,” he jokes, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You laugh at his playful threat, enjoying the easy banter between you. As you continue your work, the presence of Billy nearby fills you with a sense of comfort and contentment. 

“Go ahead sweetheart. I can close up the rest tonight.” Mary insists, practically pushing you out from behind the counter. 

“Thanks Mary.” You look out the window, seeing Billy resting against his car with a cigarette dangling between his lips. You untie your apron, hanging it on your designated hook. “See you tomorrow.” You wave to Mary and rush toward the door, flowers in hand as you make your way toward Billy. 

“Now that’s a sight.” You hear Billy mumble as you get closer. You glance at your feet as you stop in front of him. “Ready?” He quirks a brow, flicking his cigarette to the ground, stomping it with his boot. You nod and he helps you in the passenger side before getting in on his side. 

Late-night drives hold a special place in your heart, especially when Billy is by your side. The tranquility of the night seems to envelop him, stirring a gentle flutter in your chest.

As you both pull up outside your house, breaking the silence, Billy inquires about your college plans. "Where are you considering applying?" he asks.

"Still figuring it out. I'll likely end up accruing debt, so I'm researching to minimize it," you reply as you head inside, Billy trailing behind with more questions.

Perching on your bed, Billy continues his curiosity. "What about your field of study?"

"I'm drawn to photography, but practicality dictates otherwise for now," you explain, absentmindedly untangling your hair.

Billy compliments your talent. "Your photos are amazing. Anywhere would be lucky to have you."

Turning the tables, you ask about his plans. "And you, Billy?"

He leans back, contemplating. "College doesn't feel right for me. I'll probably go into a trade."

"You underestimate yourself," you reassure him before excusing yourself to change.

As you return, Billy's already made himself comfortable, his boots are already off and jacket slung over your desk chair. You catch him admiring your belongings, his hand lingering over a blanket atop a basket. 

"I could crochet one for you if you're interested," you offer, catching Billy off guard as he startles slightly, withdrawing his hand from the blanket, now standing tall.

"You made that?" His eyebrows arch with curiosity.

"Yeah, my mom taught me how to crochet. She made this one for my birthday before she passed away," you explain, reaching for the blanket she crafted, the one you always sleep with, as you settle onto your bed.

"It seems complicated and time-consuming," Billy remarks, joining you on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

"Not really, it's actually quite therapeutic," you reply.

"If you're ever in need of therapy, count me in for one," he quips, meeting your gaze.

You wonder if he senses the same charged atmosphere between you. His eyes draw you in like a magnet, his trademark smirk driving you wild every time he flashes it your way. His unruly curls framing his face perfectly, though never quite neat, drive you insane.

"Would you like to have dinner together tomorrow?" The question slips out unexpectedly, surprising even yourself, before you can second-guess whether it sounds like a date invitation.

"Sure, where should I meet you?" Billy responds, seemingly oblivious to any hidden implications in your question.

"How about here? I can cook something," you suggest, snuggling under your blanket, attempting to shield yourself from the awkwardness you feel.

"Sounds good to me," Billy agrees, his genuine smile lighting up his face. "You don't mind if I stay over tonight, right?"

"You're always welcome to stay."

With that, Billy slides under the blanket with you, and you don't resist the warmth that spreads through your body as he wraps his arm around your waist, your head finding its place against his chest.

"Goodnight, B," you murmur softly.

"Goodnight, little mouse," he replies, his lips curving into a smile against your head. You used to dislike that nickname, but now you've grown to love it. Just like him.

"Want to catch a movie tonight?" Robin suggests as you stroll together towards lunch.

"I can't, uh, I've got dinner plans," you reply, nudging open the cafeteria door, the cacophony of voices engulfing you.

"With who?" Robin probes as you join the line for food. Just then, Billy and his group pass by, your gaze lingering on him.

"Oh my god, you and Bi—" You quickly cover Robin's mouth, trying to hush her before she finishes his name.

"Shh! Not so loud," you whisper urgently.

"Ew! Have you kissed? No, wait, don't answer that!" Robin's eyes widen with excitement.

"Robin, seriously, it's not a big deal," you insist, leaning against the wall, stealing another glance at Billy. You see the way he plays with his food and the toothpick between his teeth, a habit he explained helps with his nicotine cravings during school. You even made sure to find flavored ones for him. He always keeps them in his jacket pocket. The memory brings a smile to your face.

"Um, it's a huge deal! You're going on a date with one of the most obnoxious guys in this school, whom, might I add, you confessed your love to, and he reciprocated, even though he conveniently seems to have forgotten, but that's beside the point. This is totally a date, and you know it," Robin insists.

"It's not a date," you protest, moving along the lunch line.

"It totally is," Robin persists, following you as you grab your lunch and head to your usual table, surrounded by fellow band members.

Your nerves start to jangle, the food suddenly less appetizing as you anticipate tonight. Your gaze drifts back to Billy, finding his eyes already on you. You offer him a small smile, which he returns. Tommy and Carol notice and start laughing like hyenas, causing you to turn away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Billy's irritation reaches its peak, prompting him to take an unexpected action. The cafeteria's ambient noise diminishes, and the occupants around your table fall into an uneasy silence. Confused, you glance around, only to pivot at the sound of heavy footsteps drawing near.

"Hey, Y/N. Are we still on for tonight?" His unexpected question leaves you dumbfounded, and you can only manage a nod. His sudden boldness astonishes you, quickening your heartbeat as he finally acknowledges you in public, breaking free from his usual concealment.

Leaning casually on the table beside you, he lowers his face to be level with yours, enveloping you both in a bubble of quiet amidst the hushed cafeteria.

"Great. I'll see you later, little mouse." With a wink and his trademark smirk, he ignites gasps from the surrounding girls as he saunters away, indifferent to the attention. You find yourself gazing after him, oblivious to the murmurs circulating the cafeteria.

Robin's tug on your arm snaps you out of your reverie. "Holy shit! It's definitely a date," her excitement mirroring your own astonishment.

You make an effort to tidy up as best you can, even though Billy has been over countless times and never seemed to mind the state of your home.

"Haven't seen this place so clean in a while," your dad remarks as he emerges from his room, already dressed for work.

"Just thought I'd spruce it up," you reply, wiping down the dining table, a piece of furniture seemingly frozen in time since your mom passed away.

"I'll be working late again," your dad mentions, tying his shoes as you turn to face him.

"Have you thought about Thanksgiving? Any word from Y/S/N?" you inquire, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the underlying sadness that always accompanies conversations with him.

"I'll have to put in longer hours that week. I'll give you some money for food," he responds, and you fight back tears that threaten to spill over, a familiar ache settling in your chest.

"Okay, no worries. Have a good night at work," you manage, turning away to hide the tear that betrays your composure. You wait for his acknowledgment, but only the sound of the front door closing signals his departure.

With a few hours to spare before Billy arrives, you retreat to your room, journal in hand, seeking solace in the pages. 

Your relationship with your dad is a labyrinth of complexities, once filled with warmth and tenderness before your mom's passing stripped it away, leaving behind a void that seems impossible to bridge, especially during your teenage years.

You can't blame him or your absent sister, though the resentment lingers. The idea of leaving after graduation claws at your conscience, knowing it would only deepen your father’s sadness. No matter how many bad memories Hawkins has for you, this will always be home. 

It’s where you were born and raised. It’s where your old house is with a huge driveway where your father taught you and your sister to ride bikes together. It’s where your mom would take you for ice cream after a bad day. It’s where your mom got sick, she spent most of her last days in the hospital. It’s where she’s buried up in East Hawkins, beside your grandparents. It’s where you saw your sister start to rebel and flee, to never return. It’s where you saw your father’s smile disappear completely. It’s where the quietness and loneliness grew inside you for the longest time. 

Until you met Billy. 

Billy has submerged himself so deep into your life now that every feeling is finally starting to rise to the top. 

But it’s not the feeling of panic, it’s more of a relief. Every day or hour you spend with Billy, it feels like you’ve reached the top. He’s breathed a new life into you and you want to breathe that air for the rest of your life.

Closing your journal, you wipe away the tears, feeling a surge of intense emotions. With a few deep breaths, you compose yourself, stowing away your journal before returning to the kitchen. Amidst the flickering candlelight, you begin to cook, finding solace in the simple act to take your mind off of things. 

You steal a glance at the clock on your wall for the third time, each passing minute feeling like a weight in the pit of your stomach.

With each tick, the realization settles in: Billy forgot.

Despite your anticipation for tonight, after his triumphant performance at school, he forgot.

Anger and heartache surge within you, compelling you to extinguish the candles and discard the food, the remnants of your dashed hopes and shattered expectations. You abandon the mess, retreating to your bed instead.

Curling up with your handmade blanket, tears stream down your cheeks as you gaze at the photograph of your mom on the bedside table.

"He didn't mean to, right? He's still good, isn't he?"

The next morning, you dial Robin for a ride to school, fully aware that you'd probably stay home if not for her.

"I'm going to give him a piece of my mind. When I lay eyes on him, he's done for!" Robin declares, slamming her hand on the steering wheel in frustration.

You sit beside her in silence, avoiding dwelling further on Billy's absence. She parks in an empty spot, and you instinctively scan the area for his blue Camaro, finding none. A sigh of relief escapes you as you step out of the car and follow Robin into school.

"I always knew he was still the biggest jerk in Hawkins," Robin continues her tirade about Billy.

"Can we just try to forget about it today?" you interject as you navigate through the bustling main hallway.

"Fine, but I can't guarantee what'll happen when I see his face," Robin replies, her tone still seething with anger.

Though you want to agree with her, you remain silent as you reach your locker. "I'll be right back," Robin says, heading to her own locker.

As you gather your books, you overhear snickers behind you. Turning around, you're confronted by a group of unfamiliar girls giggling and casting glances in your direction.

“No wonder he slept with Heather.” 

"Yeah, like she’d actually ever have a chance with him."

“Do you think she knows he was at the party last night?” 

"Probably not, otherwise she wouldn't dare show her face around here today."

“How humiliating, being stood up by Billy Hargrove and not knowing he slept with Heather instead.” 

The words sting, and you feel a wave of humiliation wash over you. How could he do this to you?

You scan the surroundings, noticing the whispers of your name intertwined with Billy's and Heather's. The tightness in your chest and the shallowness of your breaths propel you outside, desperate to escape the humiliation suffocating you.

As you step into the open air, the familiar roar and screech of Billy's sports car pierce through, reigniting your panic. Frantically, you search for a hiding spot, cursing the town for its lack of concealment amidst the cornfields and vast open spaces.

Before you can flee, Billy rushes toward you, not caring who he bumps into on the way. 

"Y/N! Damn it, I'm so sorry—" he begins, but you instinctively retreat, needing distance.

"Please don't," you interrupt, stepping away from him.

"Y/N, please, I feel terrible about last night. It was the worst and—" Billy attempts to explain, desperation coloring his voice.

“Apparently to everyone else, you had a great time last night.” you retort bitterly.

"What?" Billy's confusion is palpable as he tries to approach you, but you evade him once more.

"I guess you and Heather had a blast while I waited until 11," you accuse, moving to leave.

"Y/N, please, just let me explain," Billy implores, blocking your path and holding your shoulders. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, fixating on his shirt.

"I got into a huge fight with my dad, got pissed, and went to a party. I only meant to stay for a bit, but I guess I lost track of time," he confesses.

"And ended up with Heather," you interject sharply.

"Y/N, I never meant to hurt you. I don't even remember anything from last night. I'm so sorry," Billy pleads, his anguish evident.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" you demand, your voice laced with hurt.

"Of course not. I just... I don't know. I'm just so sorry for not being there. I should've come to be with you after the fight with my dad," he admits, regret etched in his features.

"Yeah, you should've," you agree, turning away. Robin stands on the sidewalk, waiting for your signal to intervene.

“Y/N, what can I do? How can I make this better?” Billy pleas, watching you depart, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"Time," you respond, glancing back at him, feeling a pang of sorrow at his tear-streaked face. "I need time."

Your voice wavers as you walk away, leaving Billy standing alone. Robin opens her arms for you, sensing your pain and tears beginning to fall.

"Asshole!" Robin shouts at Billy as she guides you back to her car.

Inside the car, you steal a glance at Billy, witnessing his anguish as he covers his face with his hands.

In that moment, you realize you've never simultaneously hated and loved someone as intensely as you do right now.

Taglist: @msbillyhargrove @uselessbutinteresting @milestellergfs @ghostcastaway @missingbillyhargrove @lotionlamp @billys-pretty-babe @isimpfortoomanypeople @rosey96 @girlwifteef @miheartsedthings @empathyroad @notzoey @iletmytittiestitty-russ @the-ch0sen-on3

[aechii]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐚𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢 ➫ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐯 ]

✩♬.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ❝ tell 'em wassup, tell 'em it's on ! ❞

➼ chii • black • bi • any prns • liverpool fc

➼ 💙: taa66 • km7 • jb5 • lm10 • cp11 • gr7

➼ masterlist • wattpad

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮💿 featured tags ↷ #work de aechii 🫧: all of my fics (found on masterlist as well) #masterlist de aechii 🫧: my masterlist #aechii is resting the inch 🫧: fic recs

🗷 copyright © 2022-2023 aechii. all rights reserved. PLEASE DO NOT PLAGIARISE.

[thus-spoke-lo]

If anyone has any fluff fic recs (preferably fandoms I know like OP, JJK, JJBA but really any are fine), either that you love or wrote, send ‘em my way pls and ty 💙

[tradetobest]

2, 26 and 30 for the writer asks please💙

SORRY THIS TOOK ME TWO DAYS TO ANSWER

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

auston matthews!! i found this old kpop fic of mine that i thought would fit mitch and auston well and im rewriting it to fit them!! 1634 usually flows out of me from mitch's pov because i think hes more similar to me, making him easier to write for me. auston is interesting, esp in this fic, cuz he just kinda... has his world turned half upside down. only half though. and so he has to Deal and that is always fun to write!!

26. are you able to write with other people around?

if theyre strangers yes!! id argue im more productive with strangers around. if it's friends then no, i'll just talk to them.

30. share a fic you’re especially proud of

ok. sorry i have a few. and none of them are hockey. 😭

1. take a look at a boy like me: my hero academia fic where dabi brushes hands with eri and it heals his burns. i love this fic. idk. i had it on the mind for my entire mha phase and wrote it finally and. i love it.

2. have i been on your mind?: i wrote a heartstopper fic and people liked it which i am happy about!! soulmate au because im a SUCKER for them. and nick and charlie. love em.

3. I wanna be free, I wanna be loved: my TGCF fic!! i thought "what if secret identity but REVERSED" so i made it so that feng xin and mu qing couldnt tell who each other were while they were using their other identities (nan feng and fu yao) but xie lian could. and i RAN. i love this fic.

4. And Then I Saw Your Face: kpop!! wow this is from. 2018. butttt!!!! someone loved it enough to make a podfic of it so i MUST rec it.

thank you for sending the ask!!! :D

[billys-pretty-babe]

i don’t know about y’all but i would’ve proposed to him, i’m a sucker for people that are nice

Heaven's in your eyes

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 🩷

Part 1

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 up. 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. 

"You are in history class with me, 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 me “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 bench 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. 

“Ow. 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. Are 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: “...and 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. I’ll pay.” 

“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. It makes your stomach flip. "Deal," he says. "Now, lead the way. I'm starving."

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 have 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. "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. 

"For me, it's always been books.” 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 do 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,” he says, arching an eyebrow. 

“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? 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?

“What about 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. “That 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 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’re 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 be?”

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 don’t waste my time with people if I don’t think they’re worth it either, 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.

“C’mon. 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 again 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 of 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 pale 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.

[the-francakes]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

thanks em <3

A Saving People Problem (James Sr. x Draco) - rated E

Draco shows up at Sirius and James' doorstep looking for refuge from an arranged marriage. James wants to figure out why just as much as he wants to bend Draco over the kitchen counter.

Locals Only (Draco x Blaise x Theo) - rated E

Draco has been living with his best friends and boyfriends without magic for the past 5 years. He wants nothing less to return to magic, but his probation is over and he falls apart knowing his peace is about to end.

I WANNA SEE SOME ARSE (NottPott) - rated E

It's Draco's bachelor party on a tropical island and Theo has to room with the best arse in the world. And of course that arse belongs to Harry Potter. He can totally get through the week without doing something stupid like getting on his knees for the man, right?

The Quidditch Pitch Incident (Ginny x Blaise)

The war is over and Ginny is mad at the world. Her rival Slytherin captain seems like the best person to put all her anger on. Except maybe it's not just anger she feels for him.

tis the damn season (Pansy's Version) (Pansy x Ron) - rated M

Pansy returns to London and walks into the Red cafe not only to find a magical coffee machine that refuses to make her order, but a handsome barista that won't take her sarcasm seriously.

[gwenkatana]

heya! i just did a fic rec and i knew you talked about your writing in the tags sometimes so i wanted to read and include them if i could, but after a quick skim of some tags on your blog i just?? couldnt find em lol. wanted to know if you did write or just gathering inspiration stage? either way have a great day

(kisaraslover sending from my main)

Hi friend! I haven’t posted any of my blueshipping or mizushipping fics yet. I’m still writing and what I have written, needs editing. When I post them I’m happy to tag you so you can read them. 😊💙💙💙💙

[mademoiselle-red]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

Thank you 😊! Here are 5 fics I am very proud of:

Au Revoir But Not Goodbye

In this canon divergence AU, Bunny never confronts Andrew and Laurie successfully breaks up with Ralph in chapter 14. He gets a room near the EMS after his discharge, reads his books for Oxford, and gets occasional visits from Andrew. Now that he has his ideal chaste life with plenty of time to sit alone and think, Laurie finds that all his thoughts and dreams lead back, inevitably, to Ralph 💭

For Want of a Smile

In this canon divergence AU, Laurie wasn’t invited to Sandy’s party and is reunited with Ralph seven years later than in canon. Both this fic and the fic above give Laurie a chance to have a romantic friendship with Andrew and let that relationship die a natural death. When Laurie meets Ralph again, they are both quite pleased with and proud of the careers and communities they’ve found for themselves. Rather than attempting to achieve an ideal life through a romantic relationship, they find a relationship that fits into the lives they’ve build on their own. I also managed to sneak in cameos for Maurice from Maurice and Frank from David Blaize ❤️

As Luck Would Have It

Seven years after the end of TC, Laurie runs into Andrew while waiting for a friend. He helps Andrew get some closure, goes to dinner with his friend, and then goes home with Ralph. This is a Laurie who is in love with the life he has built over the last seven years —his partner, his friends, his career, his hobbies. He is no longer a lost young man trying to escape a directionless, untethered life through dreams of ideal love as spiritual salvation. This is my personal favorite. It was extremely satisfying to write 😎

to me the entirely beautiful

This is a summer fic I wrote in spring, inspired by conversations with my girlfriend about blooming flowers, egg sandwiches, strawberry cream cakes, queer poetry, and summer travel plans. In the fic, I tried to capture the feeling of summer’s arrival, fresh and playful like a young love, but also old and familiar, imbued with intimate, nostalgic memories 🍓

Transatlantic

This is my first attempt at an epistolary fic, featuring Ralph and Laurie exchanging letters while Ralph is away fighting the Battle of the Atlantic. I wanted to depict a long distance relationship filled with intellectual musings interspersed with accounts of daily life, an awareness of the need for discretion due to the mail being read by censors, but also a sense of complete comfort and openness in the exchange of confidences, thoughts, and feelings 💌

[laurenairay]

I posted 4,576 times in 2022 (as of 8th Dec)

754 posts created (16%)

3,822 posts reblogged (84%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@antoineroussel

@laurenairay

@jostystyles

@senditcolton

@himbos-on-ice

I tagged 4,050 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#queue - 2,734 posts

#asks answered - 372 posts

#my writing - 290 posts

#😍😍😍 - 242 posts

#fic rec - 136 posts

#nathan mackinnon - 131 posts

#tyson jost - 129 posts

#sidney crosby - 124 posts

#erik johnson - 121 posts

#nico hischier - 110 posts

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

time to come together - E. Johnson

The second of five fics to celebrate The Avs winning the Stanley Cup!

Word Count: 848 words

A/N: this man is the toothless love of my life and I am so happy he didn’t retire last summer. Can’t even contemplate that right now because he deserves to be a stanley cup champion so much!

See the full post

200 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

#4

Walk in the Footsteps - N. Hischier

Summary: Pregnancy changes everything and nothing, at the same time. Juliet and Nico Hischier figure that out as they go along.

Words: 5.8k

Warnings: soft sappy sweetness, Dad!Nico, pregnancy, a little angst.

A/N: this one was inspired by the gif of Nico holding a baby that I had a mild meltdown with @antoineroussel​ about, all those weeks ago. Demi, this one is for you and I hope you love it as much as I do.

Title is from From The Ground Up by Dan + Shay.

Also tagging @tippedbykreider @matthewtkachuk @broadstbroskis @stars-canucks @tysojost @sorryjustafangirl @thebookofmags @jostyriggslover96 @starshine-hockey-girl @hock-ee @jostystyles @cozynightscandle @senditcolton​ @texanstarslove​ @fallinallincurls​ @newlibrary​ @chara-hugs​ @ilyasorokinn​

See the full post

216 notes - Posted April 6, 2022

#3

she’s got a sunshine smile - T. Jost

Summary: You met Tyson on the first day of freshman year – but now that senior year has started, is time running out to be anything more than friends?

Word count: 14.1k

Warnings: college au, pining, idiots to lovers, slow burn, some bad language.

A/N: This is my entry for @antoineroussel​’s​ winter fic exchange 2k22 for @ghostyjosty​​! Emmie, it was a joy to write for you - I had so much fun with the college au element, and I hope I included everything you asked for that we discussed. I hope you enjoy this! 💙

Title from Sunshine Smile by Adorable.

See the full post

255 notes - Posted January 9, 2022

#2

afraid to know the answer - B. Boeser

Summary: Being friends with benefits with Brock Boeser has a lot of perks...most of the time. Malia finds out the hard way what that means.

Warnings: fwb, oblivious dumb Brock, pining, implied smut but no actual smut, a slow digression into anxiety.

Word count: 9k words

A/N: Title from True by Ryan Cabrera

As @antoineroussel​ said, “we love a dumbass even if they unintentionally break hearts” – and thank you so much for all your help with this one Demi! Also tagging @danglesnipecelly​ and @matthewtkachuk​ as I know much both of you love Brock too 💛 

This has been a work of absolute love, so I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it!

See the full post

260 notes - Posted June 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

This is Trouble - T. Seguin

Summary: You and Tyler had the perfect casual relationship – why mess up a good thing?

Word Count: 2.3k words.

Warning: casual smut implied (no smut scenes), discussion of intimate acts, some bad language, pining, fwb to lovers.

A/N: inspired by Sleeping with a Friend by Neon Trees, as well as the many half-naked gifs of Tyler Paul Seguin floating around my dash right now. Especially that delightfully-muscled back.

This one is for you Em 😘 @texanstarslove​​

Also tagging @antoineroussel​ @tippedbykreider​ @broadstbroskis​ @denis-scorianov​ @sorryjustafangirl​ @starshine-hockey-girl​ @hockeyunits​ @myhockeyworld87​ @2manytabsopen​ @mattyseggy1991​ @jostyriggslover96​ @thebookofmags​ @newlibrary​ @fallinallincurls​ @marcoscandellas​

And why mess up a good thing, baby? It’s a risk to even fall in love. So, when you give that look to me, I better look back carefully, ‘Cause this is trouble, yeah this is trouble.

See the full post

331 notes - Posted February 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[nanneramma]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

Aw Em! You're the sweetest - I'm eyeing all the works on your list that I haven't read yet!

Lani beat ya to it, I've answered here.

❤❤❤

[sgt-seabass]

CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP. THIS IS SO SWEET 😭😭😭

Dear January

Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: While everyone else is celebrating the new year, all Bucky can think about is his resolution and you, though the two are inextricably linked.

Warnings: a little angst with discussions of Bucky’s past & references to him having PTSD, reader has empathy related powers, fluffy ending

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: banners by @vase-of-lilies, dividers by @newlips. Happy New Year everyone!! I hope 2023 is the year all your wishes and dreams come true 💜💜

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

Dear January, please let the new year be kind to me.

It was nearing midnight when Bucky strayed from the festivities, sneaking away from Steve’s overprotective, hovering presence while he was distracted with one of the new recruits Natasha was attempting to set him up with.

A crowded room with loud music and dancing couples might have been his scene in the 40’s, but was far from the solitary life he enjoyed in the 21st century. Steve had insisted that the party would be a good opportunity to get to know everyone outside of a work environment, and also confirmed you would be in attendance.

If Bucky were honest, that was the only reason he had chosen to come.

This was Steve’s world and Bucky was simply a visitor - if you could call someone who had been living in Stark tower with the rest of the Avengers for more than 6 months a ‘visitor’. But this was Steve’s home, Steve’s friends, Steve’s team, and as happy as Bucky was to see his best friend adapt to these modern times and surround himself with a community of people who trusted and respected him, Bucky still felt like an outsider.

No one trusted or respected him.

Well, with the exception of Steve himself, and perhaps you, the other newest member of the team. But Bucky wasn’t sure if your kindness stemmed from wanting to make a good impression as a newcomer, or if you genuinely liked his company.

He hoped it was the latter.

Bucky’s thoughts as he descended the tower to the small, concealed area in the basement he used to get away from the bustling upper level floors, was that this new year brought a fresh start, and that’s what he needed most right now. A clean slate. To hit the reset button on life.

He knew it was arbitrary, nothing would actually reset at the tick of midnight - his troubles of December 31st would still be his January anxieties; his murderous past would continue to follow him around like a shadow, something he couldn’t simply shake off and which only became darker the more light you shed on it.

But a change in calendar year could at least come with a change in mindset. That would be the first step in achieving his New Year’s resolution and to move on with his life.

Perhaps finally forgiving himself for the atrocities his body committed without permission from his mind would be the first step in feeling like he truly belonged.

“Hey, whatcha doing all the way down here?” Bucky recognised the voice immediately - of course it would be you to find him down here. You were the only person besides Steve to care enough to notice his absence.

“How did you find me?” Bucky chose not to turn around, he didn’t want you seeing the affliction on his face it seemed only you could detect, no matter how hard he tried to mask it.

“It’s not too difficult when you have a cloud of melancholy following you around.” There were times when Bucky relished your powers, being able to sense his emotions meant he didn’t have to find the right words to vividly express how he was feeling when he didn’t have the strength to describe just how miserable and despondent the weight on his chest felt on a particular day. Though, today was not one of those occasions. “What’s wrong?”

“This is technically my first new year since the 40’s, I wasn’t sure how I’d react to the fireworks. Loud sounds sometimes still…” He trailed off, embarrassed at how pathetic it sounded when he tried to articulate that loud sounds still triggered flashbacks to events of a war which occurred eighty years ago.

The concern brimming in your eyes in response to this almost made him feel guilty for not telling you the entire truth - yes, he was concerned that the sporadic, popping sounds of the fireworks would set off one of his PTSD episodes, but what he failed to mention was he was frustrated with himself at not being able to make conversation with the team upstairs as easily as he’d have hoped.

With you it came so easy. Expressing himself to you was effortless and didn’t carry the same nervous weight as it did with everyone else. But that only made his futile efforts earlier that night all the more infuriating and discouraging.

You reached out and took hold of his hand. Even though Bucky had known you for around six months, it still surprised him every time how gentle, almost affectionate, your touch was. It made him flinch, but not in the same way physical touch usually made him recoil. He liked the feeling, he was simply not used to it. Not used to being handled like something cared about, something treasured.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be with you through the whole thing.”

The basement of Stark Tower was the depot for all previously loved items that Tony refused to throw away, so with the items on hand, you set up a blanket fort between a few old chairs, loaded with comfy pillows and sought out some old card and board games to keep the two of you occupied.

When the clock suddenly struck twelve, and the new year commenced, Bucky could barely hear the crackling sound of the fireworks from the haven of your blanket fort, even with his enhanced hearing. You said a quick ‘happy new year!’, kissed him on his cheek and went straight back into the game of uno you were teaching him to play.

He was far too engrossed enjoying his time with you, and trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, to pay any mind to what was occurring outside the four walls of the basement.

“Do you have a New Year’s resolution?” You asked as you played a draw two card. Bucky groaned in annoyance, though your cute chuckle in response to this was the real reason he had done it.

“Are you really meant to share resolutions? I thought that jinxed them.” Was what Bucky said to avoid saying his out loud.

“It’s not like a wish Buck, you can say a resolution aloud - it’s the work you put into them that makes them come true.” Bucky hesitated a moment but eventually gave in to your curious expression. He knew his aspirations would be safe with you.

“To try and be kinder to myself. Forgive myself for the deeds I was forced to commit and to remind myself what I did doesn’t define who I am now.” His statement sounded recited and even he wasn’t completely convinced by his words, so he knew you, who was privy to every inflection of emotion through his body, would not be satisfied with his answer. “That I’m not a killer anymore.” Bucky added feebly.

“James, you were never a killer.” He had seen the way his own teammates looked at him with utmost caution and terminal wariness every time he entered a room, as if they were all predicting his complete disintegration where he would revert to his brainwashed state and attempt to kill everyone in the tower. He was positive they considered him an executioner.

Bucky paused - you had never looked at him like that.

“I killed people, I’m pretty sure that makes me-”

“No it doesn’t, because that wasn’t you.” You interrupted. The ease at which these words rolled off your tongue and the steady conviction of your voice as you doubled down on your argument, prompted Bucky to think you actually believed them. “You do not hold any of the blame for what you were forced to do, you are a war veteran who fought for the freedoms of so many people, you gave your life so others could live theirs free of Hitler’s regime. You should be commended, not punished.”

“Thank you, for having that faith in me, I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“Yes you do. And I’ll always be around if you need the reminder.” You placed your second last remaining card down on the ever growing pile and claimed ‘uno’. Bucky was too preoccupied with the words you had said to continue focussing on the game.

“Always?”

“For as long as you want me to, Buck.”

“What if I wanted you around forever.” Bucky commented, chuckling slightly so you’d think he was half joking, even though he wasn’t. He bashfully broke eye contact to place a card on the central pile, but it didn’t stop his cheeks from heating like an ember.

“Then forever it is.”

Bucky was absolutely positive you were currently able to sense his feelings of deep affection and devotion for you as easy as noticing the warm sunlight on your skin during a cloudless summer day. But with the way you were earnestly smiling at him, and those kind eyes looking at him like he was all that mattered to you, he didn’t feel panicked that you knew how he felt. In fact, right here with you was the most serene he had felt since the 1940s.

As you placed your final card on the pile, a triumphant smile blossoming on your face as you won the game, he found he could not tear his eyes away from the magnificent sight.

Bucky realised in that moment he would do anything to see you smiling like that every day of his life.

The thought he actually had a remainder of a life to plan for frightened him, but if he would be able to spend it with you then he considered that a life worth living.

“Bucky?” You queried with wide eyes, scooting closer to him in the fort. His heart started pounding rapidly in his chest with anticipation - you wouldn’t have to have empathy powers to tell your proximity made him nervous.

“Mhmm.” He hummed, licking his lips as his gaze quickly averted to your own before returning to your yearning eyes, which were making the carefully constructed walls he used to keep the pain of rejection out, weaker by the millisecond.

“You know, it’s tradition to kiss at the beginning of the new year.” You stated with a contagious cheeky smile.

“I do remember that one.” He chuckled shyly, hopeful excitement buzzed in his stomach at the prospect of what was about to happen.

“I’d like for you to be my first kiss of the year.” You requested, and Bucky’s heart felt like it would explode in his chest it was beating so powerfully. “Also for you to be the only person I kiss all year, if that’s okay with you.” And with that he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

“Perfectly fine with me.”

You reached across the paltry space between you and tenderly placed your lips on his as your eyes fluttered shut. The kiss was tentative at first - you were allowing Bucky to set the pace, determine how deep he wanted to delve. It was Bucky’s first kiss since the 40’s, he was worried he would disappoint you, but when he felt your eager lips against his, it gave him the confidence to go all in.

Reaching across the space between you, Bucky pulled you into his lap, simultaneously silently asking permission to explore your mouth with his tongue, which you freely gave him.

Your bodies pressed together, your hands pulling you ever closer to him, was the unexpected, yet perfect way to start to the new year.

Dear January, thank you for already making this year better than my last.

[creature-of-the-stars]

There is no question here, I just followed instructions and read your tags and now I've got Things to Say 😉

Firstly, thank you SO MUCH I'm very flattered and honored to be on your rec/reading list !!!!! 🥲💙💙💙

Secondly, "peeved"=NO, never, my stories are posted to an archive for a reason and that's so they can be enjoyed if ever and whenever anyone wants to read them. They will keep. If you lose interest or circumstances change, no biggie, it happens, I'm just so glad you enjoyed some of my stories! Also I'm very familiar with reading and writing being completely seperate functions, so I would never think "oh that person is writing so much how come they don't have time to read my fic?" I am just thrilled you're writing! I would never want someone to feel like they should read my stories rather than write their own!

Thirdly, please don't feel obligated to leave comments! Although I like comments as much as anyone, I want them to be freely given. Also I think the perceived pressure to comment makes reading harder in that it takes more brain energy. If you leave kudos I'll know you read and enjoyed and that's enough.

Lastly, everyone I know reads more quickly than I do, so 🤝 slow reading solidarity

P.S. I haven't had much reading time either lately and I'm thrilled to see that you've written so much!! Eeeeee!!!!!! And some more Andorian stories? 👀👀👀👀😍😍😍😍💙💙💙💙

Hey Em ��,

of course, you're on my rec list - your fics are wonderful 🥰

I'm really glad to hear that - misunderstandings are so easy to create on the internet because it's hard to convey tone through text, we don't know the day-to-day weirdness going on in people's lives, etc. So, just in case, I wanted to make sure no one thought I was ghosting their stuff.

And, comments are definitely freely given! But, I have been trying to get into the habit of always leaving a comment - especially since so many of you guys leave comments on my stuff. The encouragement of our little community is great. But, you're right - kudos are a great indicator too.

My sister in christ "slow-as-fuck-reading" 😂

LY 💙

[billys-pretty-babe]

So excited 💙

Roll with the Changes

Not a series but all of my extra Billy Hargrove x Teacher!Reader will be here!! Closer to my Heart is the main part <3

If you want to be tagged in any of these, let me know!

The New Addition - coming 11/2

Alone Time - TBD

Wedding Bells - TBD