#now that I have poured my ass into this can someone write a fic about it

[justghostly-things]

Why Mike Wheeler should get Vecna'd

I might need to rant about Mike Wheeler (to like the surprise of no one.) because if it's gonna be anyone its gotta be him, right? I don't think he is gonna die, or it's gonna be the exact same as it was for Max. (Simply because we have seen it before.) but I don't think it would be beneficial to Vecna any of the other characters.

and assuming that the Duffer brothers aren't just bad writers we know Mike has been acting weird for two whole seasons now. (I personally think it was worse in season 3 but it was still strange in season 4.) The show established him a certain way in season 1 then nailed it into the coffin that this is who he is in season 2 but then season 3 rolls around and he is just... Different. (An ass) Of course, we have our theories and analysis (thank you, to anyone who have compiled all the hints into one place what would we do without you 😭This or This or This)

but still.

Since we are talking about Stranger Things S4 and S5 there are a lot of uncomfortable topics that are going to be mentioned, I do not go into details. I barely mention it. I do not describe anything, but I do talk about the themes. Please stay safe while reading

We should look at this in three ways.

What it brings to the story

What advantage would it give Vecna (aka why would he want to Vecna them)

And how does it help the character

Let's talk about Max first. Because we can work out the logic with her and then try and translate it to other characters.

I think its import for this section to know that what Max has delt with is a very scary real thing. Many children have a very similar life as Max, and all I am going to do is talk about them from within the show. I will say is you are not a bad person because you wish death on someone who is hurting you. But from here on I am talking about Max from both her Pov and Vecna's. None of these things are my thought or feeling on the greater topic of abuse and dysfunctional families.

From a story perspective why was Max the one who got Vecna'd and not like, Dustin or Lucas? If you answered because she watched Billy die. Yes. Anyone who understands a progression of a story can figure out why it makes sense for Max to be Vecna'd. We create this guy who shows you your trauma reflected back at you and then kills you as seen in both Fred (Nancy's friend) and Chrissy.

Which of the main cast of characters just went through a trauma event just the season before? Max.

I think if this is all you take from season 4 you have fundamentally forgotten one important thing about Max getting Vecna'd. It isn't just about the trauma of her watching her brother die. No, Vecna specifically targets the fact that Max deep-down wished-for Billy to die, she used to fantasize about it. It isn't just survival guilt. And we are shown this visually through Fred who also has survival guilt. Their trauma is different because Max's guilt isn't just about surviving. That is why it had to be Max. Because all of the characters could feel some sort of Survival guilt. They have watched so many people die and get hurt. it reveals two things. One is how Max truly feels about Billy's death, and two it tells us more about what Vacna is actually doing in the vision. Because he isn't just trying to torture a traumatized Max to the point that she willing to just give up. it is showing Max some "ugly truth" about her to herself. Because that is what Vecna is. Or thinks he is. He sees the world as horrible and should be corrected and the only way to do that is by "starting over". This is him showing max what is "wrong" with her and killing her (so he can start her over/create a new her)

I feel like I need to rewatch season 3 again because I can't remember exactly but I think Max most likely played a big part in season 3 where she kept meddling with Possessed Billy. (Mike did too but we will get to that(this thing is gonna be long btw)) She showed that she is willing and able to mess up Vecna's plans.

(It is kinda a debated if it was just the Mind Flayer or if it was Vecna himself that possessed Billy (and Will in season 2) but for the purpose of this we will say that he at least knows the role that Max (and Mike) played in the mall fight.)

All of this to say from Vecna's Perspective, he sees a group of kids who keep getting in the way, And they are all close to El? And one of these kids has extreme guilt about Billy? Yeah of course he targets her. It is so useful. It'll get to El and the rest of the party. Making them weaker and affect them emotionally so they are more likely to react irrationally. It's so perfect for him. Literally Max says so in the show.

and Max, (I can tell some people aren't gonna be happy with me for this so just know I love max so much please, but) she up until season 4 was a bit of a weird character. She is a confusing character. Especially in season 2, she has a lot of character inconsistencies. This video explains all of what I am talking about in this section this really well. but she isn't really a main character until season 4. She plays more of a supporting role. Especially in season 3 where she is helping El find part of independence. And yes, we know Max has a hard home life and how Billy is an ass to her. We know this but we don't really understand it until season 4. She just feels like an inconsistent character up until this point. (you know who else is an inconsistent character-) Her getting Vecna'd shows us a direct shot into her head and we can start to piece together the truth of her character. We really get to understand why she is inconsistent. And how it isn't a flaw of the writing, it's Max being 13 and dealing with a terrible home life.

the best part about it is that there are clues all over that are screaming at us and I can tell you right now that there were probably so many children who saw themself in Max. And people who were screaming about how this is why! It's because of her home life! while the rest of us were just calling it inconsistent writing. And yes, I am gonna bring it up because this is exactly what we see with Mike Wheelers character. Because the truth is that we haven't seen the whole story, we have barely seen anything of Mike for the last two seasons. (mentally i know he is on screen I mean mentally) we just have a theory on what is going on in his head. and I think it would be a waste not to use Vecna to do the same thing they did for Max for Mike and this is ignoring all of the parallels the two characters have. this is just from a story point of view and omg can you tell how passionate I am about this??

Now do i think it is impossible for any of the other character to get Vecna'd? No? it would probably be more similar to how Nancy got Vecna'd. Mostly because if my other theory is correct (is this shameless self-promotion?) I don't think there is time for like all the character to get Vecna'd.

But yeah, lets talk about a few of the character and why I do or don't think they could get Vecna'd. I will try to make this quick.

Steve: Steve is very interesting and I kind of wanna make like a character analysis about him at some point (probably after I rewatch the show) but I think it could go either way. Steves whole arc for the whole show is to show us how someone can change. Steve started as an ass and has slowly been evolving to become a better person. And I think there is a place for Vecna to come into that but idk if he needs it. I think Steve's can jump over the last hoop by himself (unlike some people who haven't even started jumping... (Mike)) Overall I don't think it will tell us anything we don't already know about Steve, but I can see Vecna wanting to incapacity Steve because of his physical strength. Dustin: Again, I am not sure what more Dustin getting Vecna'd will tell us about Dustin. If anyone has any thoughts, please don't be scared to let me know. I can see Vecna also wanting to take out Dustin because of his smarts. So strategically I can see this being something Vecna would want to "Take out" (but i am not sure how strategic Vecna is? I certainly don't think it would be the main reason that he targets someone.) Lucas: Idk, I think it would be great to have Lucus be more import to the plot but if he is gonna get Vecna'd it's gonna be about Max and him "teaming" up with the Basketball? guys. (I say hesitantly because I don't remember what sport it was...) Which we don't need to be told he feels bad about because he told us. So, idk. I guess we can talk about Will as well: but it's really all the same thing, I don't know what new information we can learn if we see him getting Vecna'd. Sure, its angsty and that might be reason enough for some people, but I know if I was writing Season 5, I wouldn't even consider it. We know almost everything that is plaguing Will. We see almost everything first hand. And sure, we knew about Billy for Max but like I said it was more than just "she watched Billy die" and sure maybe there is something I just don't see or don't know. I just don't see reason for this poor boy to go through more. The other thing is I don't see why Vecna would want to not just kill but make Will suffer. Make him have a pain full death? If Vecna wanted Will dead, Will would be dead. its plain and simple. the amount of times Vecna had Will in his grasps? I don't believe it was just luck. I would actually love to see if there aren't times where Will could be in danger, or it would make more sense for the danger to target will but for some reason it didn't, and he came out unscathed? (if I notice anything in my rewatch I will add it here) but yeah. also, there is all the parallels between Will and Vecna, so I think Vecna sees himself in will, maybe like how he saw himself in El and maybe will try and recite him. Idk but it seems (to me at least) that Vecna has more planed than, make him suffer and then die, in store for will. This is a really good analysis and this I agreed with on why Will was probably not gonna get Vecna'd. But it is a really good (and funny) video so go check it out if you haven't.

all of this is making me want to do an analysis on Vecna/henry. I don't think he is a partially new kind of villain, but I think it would be fun to try and dive into his head.

Hopeful this is my last point where I finally get to talk about my boy Mike wheeler. This is a Mike wheeler safe place. (I say as I am about to make my point on why he should go through pain and torture next season.)

I kind of have talked about some of this but let's dive into more detail (like we did with Max) and talk about my three main points

What it brings to the story

What advantage would it give Vecna (aka why would he want to Vecna them)

And how does it help the character

I feel like the story has been building up to this for a long time actually. Not only with the stalker shots that Mike is shot in but everything we see about his character. From how much we have seen his character change between season 2 and 3, to how little we actually know about Mikes inner workings. Mike is a puzzle right now. He is surrounded by character who are at least decently written and at most complex and compelling. And he is a main character? Like if Mike was a Minor or supporting character (like Erica and arguably robin) it would be weird sure but at least expectable. But Mike was THE main character in the opening season. We learn the most about him. And we see a lot of the story threw his eyes. And what? Were just going to throw all of that away? Like it was nothing?

But! I bring up the point I made about Max again. About what she was like in season two, what our impression of Max as a character and how that changed in season 4. The reason her character acted like that was because of things we didn't have connections for until season 4. All the parts were laid out in front of us they just needed to be connected. Mike getting Vecna'd will literally connect the dots for us. it'll show us an obvious and clear answer for what is wrong with Mike. Because how, honestly, are they going to show us all of these complex things that has been haunting Mike without a Vecna vision? It's the last season. We do not have endless time to unpack everything that is happening inside his head. Especially if the season is going to be as busy as I expect. We have like 20 other character who needs screen time, and we are getting introduced to more characters? And we have to fight the big bad? and there is gonna be a time skip (I swear to whatever higher being there is if they try to pull a "all Mikes' problems got fixed over the time skip" bs I am gonna be on the news for homicide. no-one will ever hear the end of it, omg. i don't even care if Byler becomes cannon, there will be war.) point is this matter is delicate and Mike lips on the matter are sealed so tight. If he hasn't said a word about this in 3 years he isn't gonna talk about it now. He needs a push, and Vecna is going to push him down a flight of stairs.

I do feel like I am repeating myself but it's crazy how similar Mike and Max character are. Almost like they are shining bright neon lights saying like look at this! notice this! and I know I am not the only one to point this out. But like what was stated in this video, Mike is almost the perfect person to Vecna'd , he not only has a connection with both El and Will. He, as Will would put it, is "the heart" of the party. He is connected to all the other character in some way. And if taking Max out would of killed motivation/ made the party unstable imagine what killing Mike would do to them? Which is why I do believe in the Mike was the original four victim theory (I think I saw someone go into more detail, but I can't find it. If I do, I will update with both links)

Also, remember when I mentioned that both Mike and Max have meddled with Vecna's plot in season 3, I just think I should point out how in the gym scene where they trap Billy in the sauna it is Mike taunting Him. And in season 2 he was the one who figured out that Will was possessed. All I can think of for season 1 is that he took El in and formed a kindling with her, which isn't strong evidence but idk maybe Vecna gets jealous easily idk.

And I think to understand this last point I would recommend watching or reading threw the links I linked all the way at the top of this discussion. but I would urge you to watch this at the very least: This video

if you haven't caught on yet, I do believe the Vecna visions are going to reveal to the audience that Mike is gay and has been the whole time. aemiron-main has a very good theory on how I think this is gonna go, because that falls into the same thought bubble as Max's. Where I think the theme isn't just that he is dealing with internalised Homophobia but his guilt surrounding his queerness. which we can easily explore through a vision. and it explains why he has been acting this way, especially in season 3. Like, can you even think about what this poor kid is going though mentally because, your best friend, literally your person got possessed, you watched as they lead to your friends new dad's death? like you can do nothing? and you blame yourself because if you had stop being gay for two seconds just to notice that there is something off about him you could have saved everyone? YEah I would be an asshole as well. Honestly, I think all the clues are there we just Vecna to piece them together.

And even in the very unlikely situation where I and like every other Byler are wrong about Mike being gay. Mike getting Vecna'd can only mean positive things for his character.

I feel like I had another point to make but I genuinely can't remember what it was T_T so, if I remember I will update this. But that is my point. Mike wheeler is gay and will be tormented by demonic infused visions of him being gay in the next season. so, you know. like an average Tuesday for any queer.

[knightyoomyoui]

[SMUT] TWICE Tzuyu x Male Reader - "First Time"

Here's a Tzuyu smut for 2024, which is the first and one of my two remaining smut fics left before I offically end my TWICE smut anthology series. I guess I can't give that much hint already for what's gonna be the final one, since I feel that you guys know already if I say that it would be my toughest challenge so far on both writing one-shot fanfic and a smut genre respectively. Just noticed that simply my main agenda right now after returning for my hiatus is to finish everything I've left behind that are this close from being complete, and it all starts here. Enjoy reading, you horndogs lol. WARNING: mature content, contains smut, +18 WORD COUNT: 5800+ TAGS: friends with benefits, vanilla sex, masturbation, oral sex, thigh fuck, blowjob, pussy licking, ass eating, fluff, doggystyle, anal, body worship

Here's my Ko-fi account where you can drop your donations or ask for a commission. You can check it out on my Tumblr profile too!  Buy knightyoomyoui a Coffee. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui - Ko-fi ❤️ Where creators get support from fans through donations, memberships, shop sales and more! The original 'Buy Me a Coffee' Page.

You are heavily concentrated on the project that you are currently working on your desktop. It was already 11PM and you haven't had any dinner yet since you're the type of person who wants to finish a work when so invested in just one sitting.

Stretching your back on your swivel chair for a second after you switched to another template in your editing application, you heard your doorbell rang from outside. It surprised you because it's unlikely to have visitors at this rate of time.

Eyeing the heavy long metal beside your door, you carefully made your walk through the door and braced yourself to open it. Gripping the doorknob tight, you slowly turn it. Before you were about to swung it open, a familiar voice spoke from the outside, even surprising you more.

"Y-YN a-are you still there?"

She might have probably seen the lights from your windows still open, and essentially confirming if you are still awake inside or not anymore as she knows that you can sleep on either the lights are off or on, and she's aware also of what time is it already for her to do this.

Any threat or risks that you felt was completely swooped away when you heard her voice. Opening the door wide, there you saw your bestfriend Tzuyu standing in front of you.

As she raises her head, your eyes caught a glimpse of her own... and it doesn't share the same good condition. Her looks baggy, reddish, and... watery.

"Tzuyu, what brings you here?" You asked her curiously. "A-and... did you cried?"

Tzuyu nodded and in a swift moment, she slowly comes up to you and hugged you. You were dumbstrucked at her actions and what happened to her that made her be like this, but what matters first is that this poor lady in your arms definitely needs some comfort.

Raising your arm, you gently patted and rubbed her back as you let her pour all her tears on your shoulder. "Just let it out, Tzuyu. I  don't know what is going on, but I'm here for you okay?"

That's the reason why Tzuyu primarily chose to come right at you whenever she needs help. You were just there all the time for her, and it's so rare for people to make an alloted time for their special someone to accompany them whenever they need to.

"Let's go inside, it's already late." You invited her in to the house. She quickly followed and remove her grasp at you as you paved the way for her to enter.

She stepped inside, and you closed the door. "Let's go there." You pointed at the couch next to your workplace.

Tzuyu silently followed your command before she finally spoke as she got to sit comfortably. "Thanks for this, YN." Her voice was shaky and rough.

"What happened, Tzuyu? Is something wrong going on?" You asked her as you poured some hot glass of milk and cookies for her. "I know you always come by for my help but I didn't expect you to be here in the middle of the night."

"I-it's my parents." She wiped her tears off and clasped her hands together, laying them down on her lap. "They're having another huge miscommunication again. It's been like that for almost a week already, and I can't stand it anymore seeing them like that. I had enough, that's why I decided to run away and come seek for a place to stay in... through you."

You understood her purpose of appearing here immediately. "And you're free to stay here whenever you want, I'll do everything for my friend." Tzuyu smiled at that, but almost sincere as she felt slightly different at that statement. "What was your parents arguing about, if I may ask?"

"It's about my dad going out frequently these days looking for some cash to borrow from. I think he's been into loaning for sometime, much less to our knowledge. He got fired from work when the company he was working in decided not to accept everyone who has a health condition due to safety regulations, and he got both detected that he has acute diabetes and is already middle aged." Tzuyu began to explain.

"My mom was a stylist at a salon but her salary wasn't enough now for just us to sustain because we need it now too for my dad's treatment. Then, just now, they got into an argument when my mom learns that my dad was secretly making loan from most people these days without her permission. You know how loan sharks can be dangerous, right? But my dad just defended that he just want to do something for us to still gain money and he doesn't want to stay at home doing nothing for her family."

Tzuyu started to tear up once again, from the mixed emotions she's having from both of her parent's side in their tough situation. You once again assisted her by giving her a clean cloth to wipe her tears away. "Now I get it. I do understand your father's point though. It's hard for a parent to just find their selves doing nothing when they know the hard time their family must've been going through.

It's their responsibility to take care and provide their daily needs, and not doing that so will ick them uncomfortably. Even if doing loans was also quite not a good idea, atleast you can see how your father loves you and your mom. Your mom was just angry at your fad because she doesn't want him to get in danger once he couldn't be able to pay all his dues in no time."

Tzuyu nodded at you, pinpointing all the comments you have to say regarding her concern, as it makes sense anyway. "I was starting to consider to help them by looking for some job to do to earn money for them, but I'm not that decided yet plus... I don't really feel it yet to engage at work while I'm still studying you know."

"Ahh, the fear that you might be unable to do both of them simulteanously, huh. You don't want to fail your grades, isn't it?"

"Yeah." You were right. You know Tzuyu to be actually a smart girl based from the earlier times when you first met her and your experience of her being your classmate. She has a lot of potential, but what you like about her is that she's careful on using those and avoid the possibility of wasting it on the wrong time.

"You know what, save it for tomorrow. You should go to rest, you look unsettled at the moment. It's already midnight." You mentioned as you looked once again in her droopy eyes and gloomy demeanor. "We can talk about this again for tomorrow."

"T-thank you again, YN." You nodded for her gratitude. "Stay here, okay? You want to watch TV?" She agreed. You opened it for her. "Entertain yourself there with your milk and cookies, I'll be just finish my task here."

She obliged, and she lets you do your thing there on the desktop. Minutes have passed, and with all those glances Tzuyu has been giving on your busy self, she began to get curious at what actually you are doing.

She stood from her seat and approaches you. Peeking at the monitor of your computer, you were shocked when she ducked next to your side, her pretty face almost inches away from you.

Your fingers nervously types from the keyboard and moves the mouse as you just let her observe what you are doing. "What's for the edit?"

"Commission." You simply answered. "Client requested to create a presentation for her upcoming thesis research. She has no other time left because she spent too much researching and revising her topic. Good thing she already has parts prepared for me to input for each slides."

Tzuyu hummed. She continues to watch you do your work while also admiring the fact that you are doing a sideline also apart from your current education. "So you are part-timing too?"

"Freelancing to be exact. I'm the one who looks for clients and offer service. Mostly editing, as you can see."

You started to sense the purpose pf her inquiry. "You know Tzuyu, my only advice about what you're planning is that you are doing right. Don't rush about it. If you don't feel the passion of it then don't head straight. It's hard to do something that you didn't even feel doing in the first place."

Tzuyu keeps that in mind. "Can I put up some suggestions?"

"Sure do. Would love to hear it from you."

She then began to point out some more details she can imagine in her head and you judged it with her by trying it on your work. It almost took half an hour before you finally finish it, saving you some more time of impring your butt too much on the chair for sitting too long and tiring yourself up.

Fortunately, Tzuyu helped you to wrap up early. "Oh wow, I didn't know you were so good at designing. Tzuyu, I swear I see some potential in you."

Tzuyu blushed and became embarassed. "Damn it, YN. Stop fluttering me." You chuckled and awwed at her cuteness. "But thank you."

"You should consider freelancing too, maybe you can attract a client that pays a lot but I hope you can endure the huge assignment."

"I'll take note of it." She nodded. You noticed that she already emptied her milk and cookies. "Cmon, let's get you to your room for tonight."

Tzuyu followed you and both ended up in a bedroom that is cozy and suitable enough for a single person to be used. "You can sleep on the bed, I'll be here on my extra cushion here."

She gasped and became shy at your gentleman act. "B-but, YN... this is y-your room. I'm fine-"

"No buts, no ifs. You are a woman who should be treated with respect. Now please, you can take mine for the night."

You were about to set up the cushion on the floor but Tzuyu tugged your arm. "Yes?"

"C-can you just stay with me on the bed?"

You became speechless at her request. The fact that you are about to sleep with Tzuyu close to you has effectively boosted the blood cursing through your body, creating goosebumps on your skin. You became red and flustered about it.

"W-what? Why?"

"I- I can't sleep without hugging something." Tzuyu pouted.

"I have an extra pillow though."

"I need something big that fits me to cuddle." Her voice became even more softer. You sweared that your heart is about to melt. "I have a life-sized bear that my mom bought for me since I was a kid on my home but I don't want to go back there for now. So... c-can you be my cuddle bear for now, if you might?"

You sighed heavily at how Tzuyu looks so pure and beautiful pleading at you with her puppy eyes and that mellow visuals. This is what's pulling you back: it's your freaking crush and the idea of sleeping with her on the same space, same bed is what's unraveling your lack of composure.

But you don't want your friend to be sad and disappointed because of your stubborness. "Alright, fine. You can hug me in your sleep."

"Yay! Thank you, YN!"

Both of you laid down on the bed you turned around with Tzuyu facing your back, as you can't endure much longer seeing her face too long, although it would be a delight to have such this wonderful sight before you sleep and to wake up in the morning.

She wraps her arms at your waist and hugged you tightly. You blushed when you felt her soft breasts squished on your upper back, sending your heart to race. She buries her face at the crook of your neck before sending a chilling whisper close to your ear.

"Goodnight, YN."

"G-goodnight, Tzu..." You breathily replied before you and her doze off to slumber.

The next morning, Tzuyu woke up first than you. Her eyes slowly opened, regaining her sight, and the first thing she saw was your side-profile. You were now laying flat on your back beside her.

She indulges the pleasant view of your peaceful state, smiling on her own happiness to have such an amazing friend and an irresistable crush like you. Although her frown began to shape from her lips when she remembered the reality that she is still uncertain if you do feel the same for her.

Intaking this moment of you and her in one bed, nothing around but a room filled of silence and being struck by the bright sunlight of the morning. She looked at your bodies laying together until her eyebrows furrow when she spotted something strange under you.

Tzuyu saw a hump-shaped formed onto the blanket that is covering your lower blanket. She was curious to see what it is as she noticed how it almost seemed like it's moving.

Taking off the blanket around you, it had her thinking twice if what she just did is not right at all.

But that doesn't mean she didn't like it at all.

Tzuyu was staring at the source of that hump, and that is coming from your short that is having a tent marked on your crotch.

Unlike from the blanket, what she's looking at was even more obvious at what shape it is. It was long, large and diagonally laying down, measuring it as it reaches down to the upper part of your thigh.

Tzuyu was blushing hard as she realized that she just witnessed you having the most common thing for boys: a morningwood. You have no idea at all that you have a woman beside you who is clearly seeing how hard you can get with whatever reason it may be.

She became so curious, almost deciding if she'll take a touch of it to found out what it feels. Her hands raised up and fidgeting to go forward onto your crotch.

That is, until she got interrupted when she shrieked a little as she saw you moved, and your new position got her swallowing her threat and nervousness crawling inside.

You are now laying sideways, with your front figure now facing her. Tzuyu can feel your morningwood pressing against her bare thighs, and she swear that it's driving her hormones crazy when her skin can feel the warmth of your covered erected cock laying down on her touch.

"He feels so big, oh my goodness." Tzuyu whispered. She even teased it by gently bouncing your cock on her thigh by moving it up and down slowly. Her thighs start to rub with each other as she is beginning to become horny.

"N-no... control yourself, Tzu. You don't want to end up harassing your friend while sleeping. This isn't right." Tzuyu quickly shook her head before carefully removing herself away from your side, standing up from the bed.

As she is now on her feet, she glanced downwards and noticed a wet spot on her shorts. She was shocked to see that she got easily wet thinking about your elongated cock earlier. It had her panicked and rushed quickly at the bathroom to aid this.

Minutes later, you woke up after still in your morning wood, not having any clue that Tzuyu seen that beast earlier. You tried to fixed it by repositioning it on your boxers and hid it under the hem of your shirt.

You exit the bedroom and saw Tzuyu preparing your breakfast on the table. "Wow, Tzuyu I wasn't expecting that you'll be the one to cook." You chuckled as you saw the mouthwatering scrambled eggs and fried rice with the plates.

"Well, I don't want to do nothing while staying here you know. I want to remain productive too." Tzuyu smiled. Her eyes glided down to your shorts and remembering what she just saw almost distracted the stability of her mind. "G-good morn-ning, YN.", she awkwardly greeted you.

"Good morning too, Tzu. Let's eat?"

The two of you began to eat and start some random topics to talk during your breakfast. After both were finished, you volunteered to do some dishes while Tzuyu asks permission to take a shower in which you granted and willingly let her borrow your spare clothes for the meantime.

While you on your way back to the kitchen to grab a new clean rug from your storage area, you heard something that catched your attention from the bathroom door. Your hearing is very sharp and sensitive that's why you can immediately catch on the sounds around you.

And this one is a bit surprising and... enticing. You pressed your ear closer at the door and there you heard loud and clear the sound of someone moaning inside. It definitely is coming from Tzuyu and judging from the noise she's creating, you probably guessed that she must be doing something to satisfy her needs: and you cannot believe it that you have your girl bestfriend masturbating in the bathroom of your own freaking house.

You quickly rushed away out of the door when you noticed that the noise stopped. As you returned to the kitchen, you gently massaged your cock getting hard from that sultry noise.

Is s-she... Fuck, I'm getting turned on with my friend masturbating. Goddamn, control it YN. You don't want her to caught you acting lewd." You hissed yourself before continuing with your dishes.

Tzuyu emerged from the bathroom, just as time you finished washing dishes. You sheepishly avoided her by quickly grabbing your towel and take your turn next at the bathroom to shower.

 As you stepped inside after closing the door to see Tzuyu sitting on the couch and looking at her phone, you looked around your bathroom and had you imagined Tzuyu doing her own business earlier in this exact spot.

It made you rush quickly on taking a bath while fighting with the urge to masturbate by squeezing and massaging your cock and balls with soap, basically edging yourself away from doing so.

It was then you finished, you realized that you forgot to bring your clothes with you at your rush. "I have to be quick."

You opened the door and was about to dash outside when it shocked you that Tzuyu was walking at the same direction as you, emerging out from the kitchen, resulting in her to collide at your naked body. Her feet accidentally pulled your towel after she slumped backwards to control her balance, causing your towel to unveil your lower part.

Both became speechless and flustered as you realized that your largened cock has now exposed to Tzuyu's innocent eyes. You tried to cover it with your hands despite it's massive size. "O-OH SHIT,  TZUYU DON'T LOOK!"

You exclaimed to her but instead she remained staring, gawking at it's size. "Oh my god please turn around, i'll take back my towel. I'm so s-"

"You don't have to, I've seen it already."

"Huh?"

Your face crumpled in confusion at what Tzuyu said. "I-I've seen your thing a while ago after I woke up and I noticed that it's... h-hard. It's bulging on your boxers that I was concerned it might break it by itself."

"And I-I felt bad about it, I- I almost want to help it..." Tzuyu slowly steps forwards, removes your hands from blocking it and returns her sight at your cock now pointing at her, she inspects how it throbs everytime her eyes stare longer at it. "T-Tzuyu wait..."

"Does it give you difficulty right now, YN? I-I'm willing to help you, if you d-don't mind." Tzuyu looked at you with her mischievous soft demeanor. You gasped at her offer.

"But Tzuyu, are you sure about that? This is so embarassing but..."

"Hmm?"

"I don't have a problem w-with it, it's just that... oh God I can't form my words coming out of my mouth well!"

"Don't stress yourself, you said it already." Tzuyu shushed you as she patted your chest. She leaned at your face and landed a surprise kiss on you, making your eyes widen and jaw drop more at her action. "For now, just let me repay you in return for helping me by doing t-the same for you~"

She slowly lowered herself down to her knees, now kneeling in front of you. Her eyes and now leveled equally with your cock facing at her. She bit her lips and viewed at it with mesmerizing gazes. "I've only seeing these from the internet, and I was so right that to see this in personal is a much better deal to admire. I might get addicted with this."

Her hands surrounded the thickness of your cock. She slowly pulls it and bends it upwards, tightening her grip before she starts pumping it in a dangerously slow pace. She heard your deep sigh and looked upwards to see your face floating in cloud nine.

"Does it feel good, YN?"

"Y-yeah, it does. God, it's so much better than using my own hand."

Tzuyu smiled at that compliment. She started to stroke you even more, her fist kept that grip before her other available hand started to come to play too, targeting your testicles.

Your hanging huge balls got fondled with care. "It feels so full and heavy, YN." She pointed out. "Are you even doing it?"

"Y-yeah..." you said as you started to hold her hair and rub it gently.

"How often?"

"J-just... two times in a week, sometimes months." Your breath became raggy as she began increasing the speed of her fists jacking off your thick meat. "Oh god, Tzu..."

"Are you ready, YN?"

"For what?"

She didn't had to reply verbally, but instead gave you the answer orally by circling your mushroom head leaking pre-cum already with her tongue.

"S-shit! I'm sensitive t-there, oh!" You gasped loud as Tzuyu continues to do foreplay on your helpless cock, licking the entire length and juggling each of your balls with her puckered mouth.

After feeling satisfied, she now puts your entire meat inside her mouth and starts bobbing her head off. She fucked herself with an increasing force until her nose is now touching your groin.

Tzuyu pointed at her head and hair to signal you something in which you understood right away. You gripped it and started doing the favor on your own by fucking her mouth with your own choosing of speed.

Your desire on having such lustful act with Tzuyu is making you overwhelm, urging you to participate further in this with her. With the tightening of your groin, you mercilessly pounded her face to race through the end.

"I'm cumming, Tzuyu. Where do you want me in?"

Tzuyu just pointed at her throat. Few pumps and that's all it took for you to blast off your warm seed, filling up her mouth with your load that was saved up for months of your inactivity to ejaculate.

She slowly lets go of your cock with a loud pop before cleaning her lips with the remaining traces of cum left. "We can do it right here, but my pussy is unavailable for now. I-I don't want to get pregnant y-yet..."

"It's fine, Tzuyu. I respect that." You got her point. She must be fearing that she might cause additional stress for her parents in the middle of their financial crisis just to assist her on supporting her pregnancy and the child's needs once she gave birth to it.

You took a mental note that now you're having sex with her, a necessary caution would be required first to perform to ensure the safety.

"But that doesn't mean we can't pleasure ourselves anymore without that. You can still use my body... wear condoms, but only for this another hole I got behind me." She said as she stood up and turned her back on you, making her posture upright as she presents you her ass and rubbing it on your cock.

You had enough of her teasing, you lifted her shirt up and pulled her through her torso. Your hands climbed up to her bra-covered boobs. They are average sized at it's finest, perfect enough to fit in your palm.

You unclasped her bra and removed it around her, now playing on her naked tits while you devoured her neck with supple kisses. She purred and yelped at the sensation she's getting from you pleasing her.

Your fingers pinched and twirling her nipples before you turned her around and made her kiss you. You carried her body and brought her on the couch while she is wrapped around you.

You sat on the couch with her on your lap. Letting go of her lips, you then head on to her breasts by give the attention it deserves, sucking and licking the light-brown delectable areolas and nipples that she have while massaging each it to intensify the pleasure.

Tzuyu was just moaning at your active mouth running around her sensitive area. Your hands then moved around her ass as you kneaded her cheeks from her short before you hooked on the waistband and removed it from her legs.

Her now exposed underwear is the only garment she has left. She crawled on the bed and went all fours. You switched behind her and kneeled, facing her alluring ass as you removed her underwear and took a sniff on it.

Her asshole and the outline of her restricted pussy is now visible to your hungry eyes. Without no more hesitation, you rubbed yourself around her cheeks, making her gasp at the air that you blew from your nose and mouth having in contact with her private areas, tickling her into goosebumps.

You start licking her pussy, wiggling her outer walls before you spreaded it with your fingers then inserted it inside, making Tzuyu scream in surprise. Your mouth then worked next on her hole and sucked on each of her cheeks to grab a taste of her cake.

"Mmmhhmmphhh yeah you're so good at this, YN oh fuck~" she said while grinding her ass across your face and feel your fingers pumping back and forth in her pussy. She started to shiver when you quickened your movement, leaving her in a screaming, groaning mess.

"Ughhh yes fuck fuck fuck YN i'm so close, keep that fingers deep within me~" Tzuyu purred as she gripped tight at the back of the couch, enduring the huge pleasure being provided to her by her dear bestfriend.

"I'm cumming, i'm cumming on your face YN!" Tzuyu yelled before she squirted her love nectar straight to your awaiting face and mouth, tasting and slurping her juices as you slowly rode her orgasm out with slow fingering.

You didn't let Tzuyu to recover some more time as you stood up and jerked your cock at the gaps of her ass. "Are you ready, Tzu?"

"Yes, please. I can take it. I want it to be you, YN. You're the only one I trust."

"I'm glad so, Tzuyu. Tell me if I need to stop okay?"

She nodded. You directed your tip to her entrance and slowly entered. You heard Tzuyu groaned as each inch are now pressing her hole.

"A-ah wait, YN let me adjust." Tzuyu hissed and fixed her position in all fours. "Alright, continue."

You gently pushed deeper and now your cock is inside her ass. You started to move, and you gasped at how tight her ass feels around you, feeling the way she clench when your crotch bumps at her ass.

Sensing that this makes it even feel much better fucking her, you started clapping her ass as you feel like it. Tzuyu just continues to blabber random words of praises and constant moans while your speed changes from rough to vanilla.

Her sultry, sexy voice has reduced to a hum when she felt another splash of wamrth inside of her, but this time in her hole as you shoot another load of cum on her ass with regards to safety of commiting sex with her.

As you pulled out, you saw some few overflow out of her asshole. You gritted your teeth in guilt. "I-i'm sorry, I think I may have done it too much."

Tzuyu giggled and sighed at your considerate behavior. "Don't feel too bad about it, YN. It just means that you really gave it all... which is what I really want from you." She winked.

You blushed before standing back up. "I'm gonna go grab some tissue." You said as you left her for a while before going back to wipe the remaining cum on her ass to keep the couch left unstained with the smell of sex.

"Want to go for one more round?" She challenged you with a smirk as she sat properly beside you, crossing her legs.

"I'm in. What do you want next?"

"Hmm, I think it's time for you to decide for this one. I'm already satisfied with my own cravings, now it's your turn." Tzuyu said, posing herself like she's in deep thoughts. "May I ask you one? What part of my body do you actually admire?"

You traced her naked body but there's this one specific part that drives you crazy whenever you get hynoptized at it's perfect shape and thickness. "If i'm going to be honest, your best gift that was sculpted by the gods for you is your heavenly thighs, Tzu." You swayed your head while whistling at how magnificent it looks.

"Tell me more about it." She flirtatiously whispered at you while playing with your hair.

"I love your ass, those cute tits and that talented mouth too, but your thighs are just too immaculate. Too unmatchable. It's so jiggly..." You started to ran your hands around her well-built thighs. "So smooth, so thick... I would be really honored to be suffocated in these damn pillows."

"Now you gave me an idea to show me what more of these can do." Tzuyu winked. She reaches for your semi-limp cock, awakening it back to it's full size by flicking her fingers around the bulbous head. Her legs shifted above your lap, with your cock sandwiched between those voluptuous thighs to die for.

"And you are very lucky to experience such a rare service coming from such Thighwanese beauty." She smirks before she squishes your hardened cock and strokes its skin with her thighs by lifting both her legs up and down.

"Ugh... mmmphh oh~" You moaned at the relaxing feeling of her thick thighs pumping off your shaft, eager to empty your remaining load you got. Tzuyu was enjoying the sight of yourself trapped and savoring the sensation of her strongest exual appeal.

"How does it feel having my thighs wrapped around your big cock, YN?"

"It's amazing..." You shut your eyes and gasped heavily at the feeling. "Shit, I can't hold much longer if you're doing like this to me Tzu!"

"Cum. Cum for me, YN. Let it out."

You assisted her legs on stroking you by holding her ankles while you buckle your hips, banging her juicy thighs smeared with your pre-cum as it ripples from the impact until you shoot another stream of sticky cum all over it including her knees.

Tzuyu lets you rest as she removes her legs from you and scooped all your cum on her fingers before eating it. She also cleaned your softening cock in payback to what you did to her ass a while ago, sucking it off until no drops are left.

She laid her head beside your arm and cuddled at your body. "I'm sorry if this is too sudden, YN. I got carried away that I started to act like this."

"It's fine, Tzu. You just wanted to destress, let's say in such different way." You nodded. "But it doesn't matter, as long as I get to make you happy and satisfied, I'm always open to accompany you."  You smiled at her and caressed her hair. However, it disappointed when you changed from becoming serious.

"And also, I should be thanking you too Tzuyu for this moment. I've only done this for the first time with a woman, and... to be honest I have to dare myself saying this to you that... you are my ideal girl. The one that I admire for months now. The one that my heart only prefers." Your confession was heard in such clear and simple statement by Tzuyu, and she was very strucked and touched listening at your words.

"And what we did means so much to me because I get to do it with the girl that I love, although it saddens me to think if do you even feel the same as mine. I know I could've confessed to you in a much better setting and better time but I just want to express it all right now to clarify that these isn't just driven from lust, but through my sincere admiration for you that is swirling inside my heart. I love you, Tzuyu."

Tzuyu pursed her lower lip and smiled sweetly at your message. She holds your hands and looked dearly at you. "I'm relieved to know that this is both our first-time having sex together. I was a bit nervous and shy at first but I just let my desire and desperate need of your touch control me, and I'm also glad that it has to be you too, YN. I couldn't imagine other deserving man than only you who I can allow take my virginity."

She went forward and turned your face at her to perform another passionate kiss. "Because I love you too, YN and I will cherish this moment that we did."

"Through that, I must take responsibility for this too. Now shall I ask you something then?" You said.

"Go on." She chuckled.

"Will you be my girlfriend, Tzuyu?"

She grinned brightly at your initiation. "I would be very willing to."

After your heated session with Tzuyu, both of you went to wash yourselves again while doing another quickie session after can't stop getting enough yet with your insatiable bodies.

Now back on getting dressed up, you and Tzuyu proceeded to discuss about her family problem story where you have finally lended some advices for her that might be helpful about their current situation.

More than a week later, you helped her to return back on their home after saving enough courage to confront her parents. When they saw her made her heading back to their home, the married Chou couple welcomed their daughter as they have now settled into peace.

Tzuyu and you then decided to maintain their relationship secret for the meantime as they start to date and explore their affection for each other further. You are also planning to accompany her on looking for a part-time job after she decided that she really needs it, as she prepares herself to balance it with her studies. Not forgetting this kind of relationship you established with her, you and Tzuyu would proceed to fulfill more of your fantasies together mostly taken place at your home like pleasuring yourselves in other various positions that involves rimming, entertaining yourself when one of you is bored by feasting on her pussy, boobs and your cock, or even your most favorite of them all: compressing your face in between her flawless ass and thighs until you end up unconscious.

[cirqosmos]

Did I, A Side Character Became the Male Lead's Wife?!

2023 | 13+ | ONESHOT | YANG JUNGWON × READER | -> PART 2

SUMMARY you — a side character in a royal novel doing absolutely nothing but enjoy your rich ass yet boring life, only watching over the female lead and doing your job in protecting her, only for a pair of kittenish eyes to fall not upon the female lead but on you, unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE not me writing a whole ass oneshot at 5am bcs of that sweet ask from that one anon, imma name u serotonin dopamine anon lmao- and jungwon bae u r truly my muse.. also inspired by sum manhwas cuz I binge read 90+ chapters in less than a day 💀💀💀 plus happy 900+ followers for me <333 mom wake up I'm famous even tho I'll never let u know what my secret writing blog is about 😊😊

a side character, how cute?

well, you only came to know of this very horrible (not really) fact that you're nothing close to a main character's vibes cause look at you babe, where's the sparkling shiny starry dust on you as you walked through the red carpet at the ball?

and did they even spare a glance at you? unfortunately, nope. because the female lead, Liz; was your enemy, at least in how your character was written in the novel by the goddamn author which was you.

yes, that's right!

you, a hella introverted author dwelling in the deepest corner of her room doing nothing but spent an ungodly amount of hours creating the perfect and enchanting characters after crying for major character death of a fic a few years ago. wiping your dripping tears off your cheeks in a comical way as you pull open your laptop and risk your 20/20 vision for life, just so you can reverse the aching pain in your chest that you wore a thick ass glasses now.

Liz, the female lead. Swooning over her was your religion, throwing not one but a ten whole buckets explaining how perfect she was—or how tremendously kind she was, delicate and utterly sweet. patting yourself on the back for creating such a goddess of a character, so it's only wise for you to give her a fitting male lead, right? Okay we'll talk about that later since it's about you right now.

So how did you end up in your novel? Well, because of one fateful day of you doing absolutely nothing but taking a goddamn rest, and whoever the god in heaven that just randomly decided to throw you in the novel you wrote yourself—must be utterly insane. Perfect indeed!

it took you a humongous realisation to see yourself in a dark green puffy dress that represents jealousy, envy, and betrayal—which also represents the side character standing behind the female lead on the thick cover of your book. you've originally written her as that wicked best friend that uses her seductive way of speech to seduce men, and at last turning her back at the female lead by accusing her of a horrendous crime.

her fatal fate consists of her head being snapped by the guillotine, unfortunately. but for you, not really, cause you are so in for destroying wicked characters but jokes on you—you're now in the body of that character.

pfft, can't the gods put you in a character that lives near the sea, with your straw hat on and as you drank your lemon juice away from the public drama, angsty dialogues, cringe moments you yourself have created because you don't have atleast an ounce of social skills that's why you pour it all on your characters.

"oh my apologies, milady— pfft—" three ladies sticking with each other like a super glue, had thrown the glass of wine on the female lead's gown—earning a series of gasps from everyone who saw but you were sure won't pay an ounce of consideration towards her as you had written almost everyone in this novel as "the world against the weak, fragile character."

oh, right. the hyena laughters of those you describe in episode 3 of "the flashy ball"; the three evil sisters, because why not? they added the extra spices in your tongue to the point you couldn't wait for them to get slap by the female lead or possibly someone.

ah, the tremendous satisfaction.

and you were one of that person whose hands itching to smash their skull apart, you cringed enormously at them as they were the ones that brought total trouble wherever they went or whoever are unlucky enough to get in their way. unfortunately, you seal your female lead's fate with them as she need some little obstacles, doesn't she?

you as hell were not sure what you're supposed to do, whether to just let things happen as the story goes or you do the male lead's job in protecting the female lead cause you have no idea why is he taking such a long time to appear, when he should've made his grand entrance at the freaking introduction?

and you wrote it that way cause you got fed up with male leads making their first appearance at the ball, and somehow quickly gaining the female lead's heart like Cinderella cause dear lord where's the slow burn?

just say, you're a conservative grandma type of a mindset or that you are skeptical over love at first sight. yep, you're right. that's why you ain't gonna let your precious female lead get bullied in front of your very eyes. she's like your granddaughter right now, seriously.

a shriek echoed through the entire ball, gaining everyone's attention. "oh my god! my dress! you— lady Liz! who did you even brought with you?!"

oh right, you forgot it's your first time at the ball either. "my apologies, milady. it's just that i saw a bunch of hyenas roaming around.." you rubbed the back of your neck.

"hyenas?! guards—"

"chill, what's the commotion here?" a bright dashing blonde haired man in a red royal suit came around, with sets of stars dusting upon his form which you already realise to be part of the main characters but unfortunately you forgot. you ain't having that extra superhuman memory just because you are an author.

the bunch of hyenas before you reasoned with the prince, but you slowly realise that the prince was none other than Prince Jake. Inspired by that one puppy image idol from fourth generation of kpop, you were apparently slurping your noodles in the local restaurant when you watched him imitating a dog from the tv, causing you to choke on your noodles.

it's safe to say, he's hot enough that he had to be part of your main characters. aah, that signature dashing smile of his as he defended the female lead with his wisely chosen string of words which immediately melted everyone's heart at sight.

times like this you wish you were actually the female lead, but the logical side of you beg to differ; you are not emotionally capable of spewing cringy romantic words for that's only reserved for writing. So thank you, i'll pass.

Surely, Prince Jake ain't the male lead for your precious female lead but you just let them converse with each other despite her with her absolute kindness, urging you to talk with them too, atleast a word. it sort of felt for a moment like she was trying to match you with the prince.

like no please, you'd rather not to. hot guys are hot, but they're not worth the emotional investment past the fangirling section.

plus the prince doesn't seem interested you as he doesn't spare not even one look at you which obviously you couldn't care any less, you sneakily went out the ball after a series of mishaps—for example your heavy puffy ass gown with its sole purpose to only look pretty but the reality ain't that pretty to say the least, panting like a dog as you took each step towards the entrance all while cussing yourself for ignoring your logical part of brain that you shouldn't have been adding humongous useless words to describe the gown just to make it sound extremely pleasing to the readers.

now you're the one to bear the consequences of your own writing, the fuck.

"one! two!—" a long, long, depressing sigh echoes. "three! ah!—" consequently falling upon your face, what a perfect day indeed. you just wanted to go home, tuck yourself in your comforting blanket, eat your hot cup of ramen or indulge yourself in the sea of chocolate while daydreaming of your favourite idols and fictional characters.

not this awful disaster of you getting tangled in the courts' affairs.

"i suppose, you need help, milady?"

oh no, certainly not. don't call me milady, pretend i do not exist for i certainly do not have the social skills to pretend that i like you, or form a decent conversation especially with men.

"milady?"

you curled yourself, burying your head into the comfort of your gowns. wondering quite a bit of how odd you look in the middle of the hallway.

"milady?" his voice-like whisper came closer, obviously standing beside you right now. "are you okay?"

fuck it. "please, i beg of you to kindly leave me alone as my day has been utterly ruined and—" oh wait, he seems oddly familiar. those lush fluffy hair and kittenish orbs that only softens among those he were close enough.

prince jungwon.

oh! the male lead, oh my god! your jaw hang so low it fell on the ground, your eyes sparkled in dozens of star like universe as you took in his marvelous beauty that you had spent creating meticulously after studying all the '101 rules of how to create the perfect male lead that had the readers heart evaporating & a huge ass green forest that certainly would cause blazing flames'.

"oh my god! you look absolutely gorgeous, i've done it really well didn't i?! oh my god!"

"o-oh—! absolutely, you did well!" he immediately replied back, pressing his lips tight nervously.

wait what? what did he say? oh shit, oh well, covering your mouth instantly as you accidentally let it out before the prince, your precious male lead that you solely created for the female lead. "i—.."

the prince, your very precious character—obviously taken aback with a slight blush dusting of his adorable cheeks as he raise his fist up to his lips, coughing a couple of seconds. a personality trait you very well are familiar of cause that's how you wrote him when he fall in love with the female lead.

your eyes ogled out at that familiar sight, screaming at the back of your mind—wait, wait! you're not supposed to fall in love with me, you idiot! go back! go inside the ball, she's inside there!

"that's oddly brave of you, milady. i'd certainly go as far as to say that i've never seen such traits from a lady." kitten eyes softening at you, crouching down as he lend both of his hands for you. you raised your eyebrow confusingly at what is he trying to pull at but you realise he was intending to get you up.

"u-uhm? uh, sorry. i could get up on my own, actually." yeah, that's what you did. pushing yourself back up despite his protests because you ain't gonna let him fall any further for you, nah uh, not in this life, your mission is to get him and your female lead together inside the frames of birds holding flower wreaths as they went on to their happily ever after.

not with you!

"may i have the honour to know your name, though, milady?" why the fuck isn't he leaving, what is there so interesting in you that he is still standing here asking you such generic questions.

you shouldn't be having the characters attention on you as you obviously wrote it that way, and that even though your character in the novel had tried to get the prince's heart, despite resorting to foul actions, that he never truly had been attracted to her despite this characters' seductive aura.

for you squealed so loud at the scene you wrote, with jungwon putting her in her place. "you are not her, and you would never be her." along with the bunch of your readers hosting a flamboyant celebration under the comments, screaming over how loyal he was.

so what in the actual fuck is this?

"you don't need my name." you nonchalantly answered.

"my apologies?"

"you see, my best friend is in the ball—" you gestured your hands to the entrance of the ballroom, "and she needs your help more than i do."

"wait? why would she need my help?" his eyebrows knitted together in utter confusion as you pushed him through his back.

"of course, she do! don't ask anything!"

"wait!— my name is!" he forcefully turn to face you again, but you immediately covered his mouth with your hands—kabedonning him against the wall.

an excruciating silence occured between you two in the silent hallway, Jungwon freezing to his core when your other hand shoot beside his head.

"listen i don't need your name, dear sir." you emphasise each word, you certainly don't need to know his name nor his status as a prince, not wanting to risk any possible connection with him judging by how he acted before you just now.

"b-but!" his words were muffled into the void as you cupped his mouth tighter.

"shh, shh. stop talking and listen, will you?!"

jungwon nodded slowly, what an odd situation he was in right now, he thought. but somehow he likes it.

"so first step, is go inside the ballroom. second, look for the lady in pink gown, and third—"

"t-third?"

"third is tell her your name! my best friend needs it more than i do!" you release him from your grasp as you went to swing open the huge double door, "now go!" waving a goodbye before kicking his body through the entrance, pulling the door back with your entire strength despite his protests.

oh of course, you finally let out a gag after suppressing it in front of him the entire time as you've never had a proper conversation with a male without stuttering, somewhat a sad tragedy for you, unfortunately. you felt quite guilty about your readers who swoon over the romances you wrote between your leads, weeping over how you're so good at it—not knowing you're a complete introvert with only a gigantic ass dictionary with you.

finally, the male lead and female lead's romances are about to start! you squealed with your hands clasping as you went on your way to the carriage, gesturing for the rider to embark on the way to your heavenly puffy manor with the widest big grin ever that it had him questioning you, "has any gentleman had caught your heart, milady? a couple of hours ago, you were often beyond distraught to attend the ball but insisted when you heard Lady Liz was going."

"oh, you silly." you giggled as you swayed your hand, "of course, that's one of the reasons. but there's another one.."

"may i ask what is it, then?"

you leaned in closer, urging him to get closer as you whispered. "i got the chance to become a Cupid!"

"a Cupid?" you squealed before the old man, hopping like a child for quite awhile before flying into the carriage much to his surprise, but only shook his head in amusement—appalled by how his mistress had changed so much.

"so?" you couldn't help yourself from pulling out the widest eccentric grin at the female lead, extremely curious and ecstatic over what romances had bloom between her and Jungwon.

Liz raises her eyebrow in confusion, "so?.. what do you mean, milady?"

you shrugged, falling back to your seat as you raise your eyebrow in a comical way, "that.." whispering ever so seductively, "prince."

"p-prince?

"yes!" the teacup rattles at your excitement oozing so much that you tapped the table a couple of times. "what happen? what's the tea~"

she lets out a soft giggle, a bit amused by your excitement. "i have no idea what you're trying to imply, milady."

"wait? what are you saying? didn't the prince went to you last night?"

Liz shook her head slowly, her expressions clearly stating that she absolutely don't know what and who you were talking about as a smile pulled up on her lips once again, taking a few sip from her teacup.

veins popped out from your neck as it dawned on you, your head snapped towards the castle on top of the mountain, you stupid of a prince! you cussed at him endlessly at the back of your mind, tightening your fist as your ears and nose fuming in anger. how dare he? he didn't listen to you at all? what in the actual fuck? would this somehow divert the original route? a dozen question arise into your mind one after another, causing you to let out an exaggerated sigh.

facepalming yourself as you imagined the imaginary heavenly light on top of you, weeping to yourself about how tremendously unlucky you are to have a hard headed male lead. it's impossible, you have never added a trait so irritating like this in his profile so how could this happen?

"milady?" the gentle voice of your precious female lead pulled you out of your inner desperation, you leaned in closer, whining so much over how unlucky you were and such, the rest only being in your mind as you pouted.

"ah, i remember now, the prince—"

"WHAT?—" you immediately seated yourself after giving her a potential heart attack, "my apologies, what did you actually.. remember?"

"i assume you were talking about the prince from yesterday? prince jake?"

"no not that bitch— oh certainly not him, ehem.." you took a couple of exaggerated coughs, avoiding her evident confusion. "isn't there a prince.. name jungwon with you that night?"

"oh my goodness! right! prince jungwon!" she shook her head in disbelief with her finger on her head.

right, how did you even forgot that the female lead in front of you had a "weak ass memory" in her profile description. tsk tsk, truly a forgetful author you are. you should be trying your best to remember the things you wrote before and revise it as best as you can, to avoid any possible problems in the future, atleast.

"right, how did i even forget, the prince asked me for your name, milady—"

"huh?" you look at her with confusion, as you were out of reality a couple of seconds ago. your orbs terribly widened as her words slowly sinking in to your brain. "HUH?"

ask your name?! why your name, why not hers?! what did the prince ate that night before stumbling onto your way that he had to ask for your name before the female lead—his own lover?!

laughing awkwardly, you raise your leg on top of another as you nervously swayed your hands repeatedly. "oh dear, oh dear. you might have heard it wrong, the prince?—" snorting outloud as you gestured to yourself, "asking for my name? what a funny news!"

"i didn't, milady. the prince came to me and asked me for your name, as he was immensely curious of who you are so i—"

"so what?—" you can't believe this, you really can't bring yourself to believe any words she was uttering. you should have been bestowed by the news that the prince had taken an interest in her, a hand in marriage, or anything, anything as long as you're out of the picture! "y-you didn't tell him my name, d-didn't you?"

"of course, i did!" exclaimed she did with the widest grin ever.

why are you so freaking happy over this?! clasping your head in your hands as you tragically fall on your knees causing the lady to gasp in shock, ushering to your side to get you up.

"milady?! what's wrong?"

"d-dear," you pouted as you look up to her, "you didn't tell him where my manor's at, r-right?"

she simply replied, "i did? the prince informed me that he's going to send a letter for you to be his partner to the ball."

an imaginary arrow struck back to your heart, forming a humongous hole that threatens to give you a panic attack. what? what in the actual fuck? did you accidentally did something to divert the original story you yourself created? but you didn't even do anything! you tried to do your best to keep the interaction with him as short as possible and he dared to take an interest in you?!

"milady, a letter from the royal palace had arrived for you."

"discard it. throw it. keep it away from my sight."

"milady?!" Liz and the head of the maid exclaimed in utter shock at your nonchalant answer.

"forget about it, forget about it." you clasped your forehead in utter disappointment, yet your brain were creating another plan b for this unexpected turn of events. what should you do? even more so, what would you do now that the prince had asked for you to be by his side to the ballroom?

this won't do, you won't let this happen—you had to look as unattractive and ugly as possible for him to cringe on and finally divert his attention back to the rightfully person who deserved it; the female lead.

your maids could only fall apart every single time you pluck out the enchanting gems they attached on your hair, ears and wrists. their efforts deemed futile as always as you had no mood for any sort of events, it was like a slap to their face as you initially weren't like this. you overheard them that they couldn't get used to how you were adamant in staying behind the spotlight as you often did your very best in dressing yourself up before, with the sole intention of gaining the favour of men and even more better, a prince.

of course, they are totally oblivious to your real identity. only a series of jaw gaping one after another with your change of character, at first—you had a dilemma over whether you should act like the character you created but you later scrap the idea as soon as the anxiety of being engulfed in the crowd suffocated your chest. opting to avoid as many as balls or public events as possible, but that obviously didn't work out that well since you heard of the female lead's arrival from the country side—just like you intended it to be.

and being the proud mother (writer) you are, of course why wouldn't you take one single look at her and see of how far she had came? but alas, one interaction leads to another one and so on—till finally, you became her best friend throughout her entire journey. waiting for the male lead's arrival, and watch their romances blooming and per se—but oh well, look at the situation you were in right now; total disaster.

you truly despise being in such an extravagant puffy gown and the numerous accessories hugging your skin, it's tremendously uncomfortable that you wanted to rip it off part in front of the prince standing before you right now, and right here.

asking for your hand to dance with that odd kittenish smile, that you swore you had never ever written in his personality profile; he should never have been this casual and chill over a person he had just met. he should've been cold as fuck, icy to touch, and a spiralling disaster if you dare to talk to him, so why?

plus how could he have taken an interest in you? you couldn't possibly have added a dose of the love at first sight trope, didn't you? you despised that trope to your very core.

"milady? may i?" he extended his hand before you, patiently waiting for your answer.

you had decided that you're going to reject him quick and efficient—just like the local fast food restaurant your mouth kept drooling over for, smashing a five star review for their inhuman speedy delivery.

"you see, prince jungwon. i have no desire to have a connection with you, a relationship, as a matter of fact."

he raised his eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by your bold words. "i'm curious milady, why so? have i done something that perhaps had annoyed you?"

cliché question, you loathe that. "what if i said you did?"

"then tell me, milady. i'll try my hardest to own up to you—" he took a steps forward, which causes you to immediately step back as well with a frown on your face. you can't, not in this life, to even give him a single chance to get close to you. nah uh.

"no need, and stay one meter apart, please." you pointed your index finger towards the floor and he hesitated, but complied immediately.

"i." you raise your index finger back to yourself and then at him, "don't like you. do you understand?"

"b-but?"

"stop questioning me, prince jungwon." you stayed firm in your spot, "i believe it's a common decency to step back when a lady had voiced out her opinion, a prince like you certainly would understand, am i right?"

Jungwon was clearly taken aback, the fact that you didn't give him a single chance to utter a word nor take a step closer was a hard punch to his face. It feels as if he was trying to reach for you, but you efficiently dodged it with ease. It kind of.. annoys him.

"base on how you didn't say anything anymore, i assumed we're done here! well then, goodbye prince jungwon." you turned your heels towards the entrance, not bothering to waste any time at this goddamn ball. "i hope this will be the very last." you scoffed inside your mind, eager for the story to return to it's original route, and that the prince would soon deem you useless and such—returning to the female lead's arms.

hm, now where's your precious female lead? she should've appeared right now and right here, strike the pot while it's hot!

"i'm afraid i can't back down that easily, milady." jungwon took a few steps forward, wrapping his hand round your wrist as he spun you around to face his eyes filled with blazing determination. one that you specifically added on top of his profile so that your readers would kept it in mind.

your breath hitched down your throat as you remembered there's only two reasons he could have this; one that reminds you when he was at war, shouting at the top of his voice to encourage his soldiers as they push through the enemies, and another reason of it appearing is when he have to get what he wanted, or else all hell will break loose, chaos will ensue.

right, you're truly an idiot. staying a few years in this novel without any memories, and only for it to surface back when you stumble upon the library—dozens of books flickering a series of eccentric images in your mind. It had cause you to lose all memories of important details, only emerging everytime you are presented with a situation you couldn't comprehend. such as when you forgot that the female lead had memory problems and such.

"i'll only present this choices to you, milady. since you tremendously intrigued me over how well spoken you were and fascinating indeed—" bitch, you don't even know how you had the sudden ability to confront him but you were just sure as hell that you don't want to ruin your own novel. no fucking way.

you can't let him have the upper hand on you.

"let me go." irritated to your core, you tried untangle Jungwon's tight grasp on your wrist but he won't budge even an inch which only had you fuming in anger. "i said let me go, bitch!"

the crowd emits a series of gasps and murmurs as you spun around—twisting the prince's arms which had him yelping in pain, and ultimately pinning him onto the ground. with rage consuming you that nothing was going in your way, you slammed your hands on the both side of his head. clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth as you emphasised each word. "you are one a dumb hell of a bitch, when i said i do not want to see you anymore. i mean it. so—"

"so what?" his smug look resurfaces, one that emerges whenever he was being challenged. yes, do that! he should despise you, not take an interest in you! he should loathe you so much that he can't even gaze at you for a second. excitement surged through your veins as you open your mouth, preparing for the last blow.

"so, get lost. just because you're a prince doesn't mean every girl would fall for you, idiot."

an even more louder gasp emits from the crowd as they clearly heard what you said, their jaw gaping and some covering their mouths with their hands as their mind are now bombarded with random questions over how exceedingly brave you are to insult the royal prince, and of what fate will you met now that you've done such an atrocious act.

a low giggle sent shivers down your spine, and goosebumps to riled over your neck as you realise the prince under you had the widest smirk on his face. you frowned deeply, he shouldn't be smirking! he should be fuming in anger and throwing you out of the palace at this moment. so why?!...

"oh milady, how truly fascinating you are." you let out a loud yelp when he grabbed both of your wrists, pulling you closer to his face—a dangerous close proximity against his fluttering eyelashes and lips that your breath caught up in your throat which causes your cheeks to heated up in embarrassment of what kind of position you two were in right now. "i like you, you would certainly be a perfect fit to be by my side."

"what?!" you exclaimed, jaws dropping and eyes about to pop out at his very words. "i don't want to be by your side—"

"a lady like you, i'm afraid to say, intrigues me very much..." Jungwon shots a kittenish wink right through your heart. "be my wife, milady. i'll show you how good I can be for you."

「 © talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission.

[bookshelf-dust]

pouring out the sun

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 6,988

warnings: swearing, chubby!reader, reader deals with specific body insecurities, swimsuit wearing, brief mention of blood?, post-starcourt billy, slight sexual innuendos (let me know if i missed anything)

a/n: well, um, it’s been a little over a month since you got a fic from me. i took a break from writing, but my mental health only got worse, so clearly it didn’t work too well. this fic was meant to be a way for me to work through some things, so beware of that. i thought maybe someone else might need it too, or might even understand, in some way. i know i don’t usually do specifics regarding reader, but this is really for me. also, the title is a reference to the song of achilles, but it seemed fitting. i hope this turned out okay. i know it’s a lot, but it’s something. <33

————

The wall behind you is starting to make your back ache. The chill you’d felt through your shirt when you’d first situated yourself against it is long gone. You pull your knees up as close as you can get them and wrap your arms around your calves. 

Billy has pressed himself into the footboard of your bed. He’s staring at you and your obstinance makes you stare right back. He crosses his arms, and your gaze flickers to the way his biceps shift with the movement. He’d tease you if he weren't so determined to challenge your stubbornness with his own. 

“How long?” you question, pressing your cheek into the skin of your knee and letting your eyes flutter closed.

“A week. Maybe two,” he answers. 

You scoff and roll your neck so that your forehead can take the place of your cheek. “Oh, holy shit,” you say, voice muffled by your legs. “Yeah, that’s a no.”

Billy rolls his eyes, and even if you can’t see him, you can feel it. He runs a hand down his face. You have your moments, where you can be incredibly difficult, but this is something different. It’s almost like you’re frustrated in some way, and it frustrates Billy that he can’t pinpoint why. 

“You sound like Harrington.” He pushes off the bed and lands a playful slap to the side of your calf before walking out of the room, hoping a bit of pacing might help him figure out what to do.

Billy has wanted to go back to California since he got to Hawkins, though now he seems to be content with a simple vacation, rather than being in a rush to move back. When he brought it up again today, telling you firmly that he is going, you thought it sounded lovely. That it’d be good for him, that maybe he’d take Max and they’d do some family bonding or something. But that’s not what he’d said.

He wants you to go with him.

And you hate the beach. With a burning, fiery passion. 

Despite this, there’s a voice in the back of your head that tells you you’ll end up going anyway–just for him. But right now, the idea of going to California makes you nauseous. 

Sitting in a hot car for the length of that trip, sweating your ass off, baking in the sun, being trapped on the beach for hours? What’s so fun about all of that? And then there’s the matter of a swimsuit. Billy has certainly never seen you in one, and he definitely doesn’t know that you got rid of the ones that were once in your possession. 

He traipses back into the room, making you look up. It’s as if he’s somehow sensed that you were lost in thought, that you were being unkind to yourself. He doesn’t like it when you shit on his girl.

“Look,” Billy starts, leaning against the doorframe. “If you really don’t want to go, I’m not gonna force you or anything.”

He pauses, and you slide further down the wall until your back rests firmly against the mattress. You force yourself to make eye contact with him–only for a moment. 

“I just thought it might be nice to have you with me. I wanted to take you home.” His mouth tips up in a grin at that last bit. He’s guilt tripping you. 

“Goddamnit, William.” You slap your hands over your eyes, shielding yourself from him like he might up and turn you to stone. You’ve never fancied being a garden statue. 

“I just…I don’t know, Billy. There’s a lot for me to think about.” You pull your hands back and his face is inches from yours. It makes you jump, but makes his mouth twist into a Cheshire cat grin. Contrary to the way his boots usually announce his presence, he’s partial to moving like a cat when no one else is around. “Jesus.”

He presses his palms into the bed on either side of you and sits so that his thighs bracket your own. This way you can’t run when he asks you why you’re so insistent about not going to California with him.

“You mean there’s a lot for you to overthink about.” His hands find your sides, thumbs sweeping over the soft of your belly. Your mind jumps to the pudge you know lies underneath your shirt, the very thing that prevents you from wearing the teeny bikinis Heather Holloway runs around in. Right now you can’t bear to have him touch you, and you push his hands off. 

You give him an agitated look, and again that feeling, that he can’t quite pinpoint what’s going on, crawls up Billy’s abdomen and prods at his throat. “What? Like that’s not what you were doing when I came back in here?”

He goes to rest his hands on your thighs, the bare skin calling to him, skin he wants to grasp, knowing how pliant it will be, how it might move under his fingertips, but he stops himself. He thinks that you’ll just push him off again, so he settles for planting them back against the mattress, though close enough that he can feel the warmth of you–close enough that you’re still tangible.

You sigh. He mocks the sound, pitching his voice up just that little bit higher. You cover your face with your palms once more. 

“Look,” Billy starts, “I’ll take care of everything. There’s really nothing for you to worry about. You know I’ve been saving for this since I got here.”

You nod behind your hands, and Billy recognizes it as a gesture you make when you’re about to cry. He swears his heart drops out of his ass. 

“Hey, hey, hey–what’s going on in there?” He pulls at your wrists, a gentle grip, but more than enough to be firm. You let him move your hands away, and he sets them on your belly, but even that seems to be wrong. You’re quick to remove them, not being able to stand the squish of your own flesh. 

You aren’t crying, but your eyes are a little glassy. Billy thinks whatever tears might’ve been about to spill, you’ve willed away. You inhale.

“Billy, I can’t just go to the beach.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t look like you.”

If you could manage to look at him, you’d see the way Billy’s brows meet, maybe even catch the way his breath hitches in his throat. He connects the dots, all at once. Suddenly he knows what you mean.

Last summer, when you were still just friends, you’d come and eat lunch with him on his break. But never once did you actually go swimming, always just taking off when he had to continue his shift. Billy had secretly hoped you’d stay and lounge, at least, during one of the many times you dropped Max or Dustin off. You never did. 

He’s not even sure he ever saw you in something other than jeans then. Hell, you’re wearing shorts right now, in the comfort of your own home, but you don’t ever leave the house in them. Why hadn’t he seen it before? Why hadn’t the thought at least occurred to him?

He thinks about all the times you avoid mirrors, or looking at other people. How you never want to go shopping, how all of your clothes are just that little bit too big. He realizes it’s serving you a purpose. You’re trying to hide–from Hawkins, from him, from yourself.

Billy feels like he’s been punched, or maybe like someone’s poured ice water down the back of his shirt. Still he teases. He needs to.

“Well, contrary to popular belief, I'm really not that into myself. So I’m actually pretty damn grateful that you don’t look like me.”

He tracks your shaky inhale. The teasing has failed him, and he doesn’t want to see you cry.

Billy moves off of your lap in hopes that it might help pull you out of your head for a moment. “You wanna talk to me?” he ventures. You sit up, nodding. The movement allows the tears you’d been holding back to slip free, gliding down the apples of your cheeks.

Billy’s thumbs are against your skin in a moment, wiping them away. “Yeah?” He reciprocates your nod, more reassuring, supportive, than mocking. Billy holds out his hand for you to take. You bring it into your lap, tracing the many creases on his palm. It gives you something steady to focus on, grounds you enough that you can concentrate on getting your words out. 

“I know it’s stupid,” you mumble, voice thick with emotion. Billy flicks his fingers upward to tickle your own, and it gets your lips to tick up just that little bit. 

“It’s not stupid,” he says, tone dead serious. “What’s that shit you always tell me?” He raises his other hand, waving it around. “This is a safe space to share your feelings.” He says the words playfully, as if it might pain him, though he’s just trying to help you like you do for him. Your heart warms at the effort.

“It’s my body, Billy. I can’t just go to the beach because the beach means a swimsuit, it means people seeing me in a swimsuit, you seeing me, but I can’t wear one, and I—” You pause, drawing in a breath. Your eyes squeeze shut for just a second, another tear falling down, but you catch it before he can.

“I hate my body, okay? And I love that you want to take me with you to California, really it means so much to me, but I-I know that means tagging along with you, being out in hot weather, and I’m just going to ruin it all for you looking like this. Really you should be taking someone else. Someone who can maybe put on clothes without sobbing.”

When you finish and look up at him, Billy looks heartbroken. It immediately makes you want to take it all back. You never meant to tell him any of this. 

“You sob when you have to get dressed?” he asks, almost tentatively. The way he says it tells you he’s not picking on you, but instead trying to understand. He’s picturing it, you struggling to simply get ready for the day, and it kills him. You shouldn’t have to feel that way.

“I have before, yeah. And Billy you’re hot. I know you know that. You should be with someone who’s equally as attractive. Not someone like me.”

You hiccup and release Billy’s hand. You start playing with a string on the hem of your worn-out shorts. Billy’s thumb finds your forearm, dragging up to press against the inside of your elbow. “Baby.”

You shake your head, forcing a sad smile to form on your face. “It’s alright. I told you it was silly.”

“Are you shitting me right now?” His grip tightens ever so slightly. He’s begging for you to listen to him without ever saying so. You meet his eyes, and he’s looking at you with so much concern, so much love, that you wish you hadn’t looked at all. This isn’t silly. Not to him.

“What is it about your body that you don’t like? Can you tell me that much?” 

More understanding. More compassion. You can’t take it.

You bite the inside of your lip so hard that you draw blood. You press your tongue against the spot, hoping it will stop. You’re getting angry with yourself. For making this situation about you, for telling him about your stupid feelings, for thinking that you could ever make this work when clearly you’re not meant to even be in a relationship, especially not with him, and definitely not when you look like this–

“Stop. Take a deep breath, and talk to me.” Billy’s tone is unyielding. You’re working this out right now, and he’s made that decision for you. He knows if you don’t, you’ll just shove it right back under the rug and keep fighting this internal battle with yourself all while he’s right here.

You do as he said, and start again. 

“I don’t like my tummy, or my hips, o-or my boobs. My arms are wrong too, and I’ve got all these rolls, and nothing is shaped right. I hate everything, and I can’t even look in the mirror anymore, and I want to go on this trip with you, really I do, but all of this is overwhelming me, and I-I’m just going to ruin it for you.”

“Look at me,” Billy says. You hadn’t even noticed you’d stopped, eyes glued to your bedsheets. You start crying again, warm tears spilling over your lashes. You can’t get them to stop, can’t get your thoughts to stop. It makes you want to press your hands to your ears, like that would help, but really it’s just you. You in your own head. 

Billy takes your face in his hands. “There is nothing wrong with your body. This is just your mind fuckin’ with you. I know that every part of you is perfect, just as it is, and you don’t have to look like anyone else to be good enough.”

You shake your head and grab hold of his wrists. “See, but you can’t really say that. You don’t actually know what my body looks like because I don’t have it in me to let you see it. I know that if you did, you’d be grossed out, Billy. There’s so much fat, and pudge, and I–”

“Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing? Because it isn’t and I don’t wanna hear you say that again, you understand?” You sniffle. He takes that as a yes. 

“Baby, I know I haven’t seen shit. But I fucking swear that I’d be a goner for it. You think I mind having a little extra to squeeze on? ‘Cause I don’t.”

You’re trying so hard to believe him, but every cell, every nerve in your body is screaming in protest. He’s lying. He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s lying. But there’s a part of your brain that knows he isn’t. That he wouldn’t dare lie to you. 

“My body is…it’s disappointing.” You sit up on your knees and wipe your nose. “Because I-I know what the world wants me to look like, and I don’t look like that.” You squeeze your eyes shut, and more tears slip out. He can’t stand to see you like this, and it’s killing him to know that this is what you’ve been dealing with for who knows how long.

“It’s not fair,” you cry. “It’s not fair because I don’t get to walk around with this amazing body, the kind of body that men clearly want, and I think now I want it too. I sit in my room at night and I think about how I’d love myself more if I had a different body.”

Now that the floodgates have opened, you can’t force them closed. 

“Because I don’t have porn star tits, Billy. They’re sad looking, and they definitely don’t look like the chick’s on your bedroom wall, or the ones in your bedside drawer. 

He lets out a scoff of a laugh. It’s not malicious, not even at all. It’s simply due to the fact that your mind, and the world around you, has led you to hating the body you were given. He laughs because he agrees with you that it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that you’re feeling like this. But he has to make sure you recognize that you can’t compare yourself to fucking models. 

“You know all of their tits are fake, right? Or strapped in somehow to get ‘em that high.”

You rub your nose, drag a hand down your throat. “Well, yeah but I’m sure there are lots of other women around here with better boobs than me. I know you like boobs, Billy. And mine are gross.”

“Yeah, that’s bullshit. They aren’t gross, and you shouldn’t talk about your girls like that.” He holds up a finger to prevent you from fussing about that comment. “I don’t care if they’re a little droopy or if they aren’t these round balloons, or if they aren’t porn star tits, or whatever it is about them you don’t like. And I know it’s only because you’ve been comparing your tits with some stranger’s, and that’s bullshit too.” You stare at Billy blankly, but he’s still not done. 

“I wouldn’t care about any of those things. Because they’re your boobies, and that makes them my favorites.”

“Please don’t say boobies, Billy.” He grins and leans in until his mouth hovers above the shell of your ear.

“And I always end up thinkin’ about you anyway.” Your face starts to burn and you fight the urge to abort right then and there. “Not even Elvira can keep me from thinking about you, baby.”

Your face is burning. “What is wrong with you?”

“Oh, there’s a lot wrong with me,” he says, rubbing his nose against yours. “But there’s not a damn thing wrong with your body, and I’m gonna be right here until you think the same.” He gives you one chaste kiss and pulls back. 

“But Billy, my ass is–”

“Amazing? I’ve seen it in those jeans you wear all the time. Shit is mind boggling, baby.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

His giggles taper out, and then he’s looking at you all gently again, like you’re the most precious thing in the entire goddamn universe. “You gotta quit comparing yourself to other people, okay? Doesn’t do you any good, and I know that. This is the only body you’re gonna get, and you deserve to love on it a little.” 

You run your hands down your face. “I just wish I believed that.”

Billy leans down and smacks a kiss to your knee. 

“Hate seein’ you like this, you know? You’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. The way you’re told you should look? It’s all idealized and stereotypical bullshit, and it isn’t fair for you to look at yourself and pick every little thing apart because it doesn’t look like some chick in a porno mag or a comic book drawn by some horny, middle-aged man.” 

He’s fired up now, genuinely hurting for you, and he’s talking with his hands. That gets you every time. 

You might be snotty, your cheeks might feel tight from where the tears have dried, but seeing him be so passionate about making you feel better gets a little grin out of you. 

Billy catches it, that itty bitty quirk of your lips, and he moves in until his face is inches from yours. It’s supposed to be intimidating. 

“The fuck are you grinning about?”

Your grin turns into a full, teary smile. 

“You expecting a kiss or something?” he teases, thumb dragging over your lashes, separating them where they’d clumped together with moisture. 

“I was gonna give you one, actually.” Your eyes start to prickle again. “Because I don’t deserve you—”

Billy covers your mouth with his hand. “Listen, if there’s anyone who doesn’t deserve someone, it’s me—”

You do the same to him in an instant, only he smacks his lips against your palm, winking just for good measure. You roll your eyes.

Both of you remove your hands at the same time, and then you really do kiss him. A sweet press of your mouth that tells him…everything. 

You pull away, and he’s still looking at you like you hung the fucking stars.

“I’m sorry for keeping all of this in, Billy. It’s so suffocating sometimes, and I get so angry with myself for looking like this. I just imagine that I’d be so much happier with someone else’s body.”

“But if you had someone else’s body, you wouldn’t be you anymore. You wouldn’t be my girl.” 

You nod, trying not to let the voices win. Trying not to think about how you look in the mirror versus how you wish you looked. How if you had different features it might be better. 

“Just can’t help thinkin’ you should be with someone that looks nicer than I do.” 

“But I want you, okay? I love you exactly the way that you are.”

“Okay,” you respond, voice shaky. 

“Can I hug you?” Billy asks.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Billy pulls you into his arms, squeezing you tightly against him. He has this way of getting you out of your head, of making you feel like the two of you are all that matter.

You’ve both risen up onto your knees, the mattress dipping around you. Billy’s hands are rubbing all over your back. 

He leans his head back a little, making sure he catches your attention before he dips his chin down to gesture at where the both of your chests meet. 

“They don’t feel gross to me.”

You heave a sigh, pulling away from him completely, and trying to ignore how proud he looks of himself.

“We’re gonna keep workin’ on this, alright? I’m not letting you hate on yourself so much anymore.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Billy rolls his eyes, but you give him a hopeful, yet sad, smile, all the confirmation he’s looking for. That you’ll try. 

“So what else about the beach is it that you’re worried about? I’ll buy you a fucking umbrella, I swear. And if you go, I’ll let you drive.”

Your eyes widen, and Billy knows he’s just won you over. He knows that you have a soft spot for his car, and he’ll do anything to keep you happy.

————

“You aren’t upset that you’re not going?”

“No, not really. I mean, I like it there, but I’ve never had the same attachment to it as Billy has.”

Max slings another swimsuit over her arm. You decided that you really wanted to try and find one you might be comfortable in. Billy said you didn’t have to swim, even if he didn’t want you to overheat, but you’re determined to find something. And Max had happily offered to help you while Billy worked on finding you both a place to stay.

Every once in a while, Max will hold one up to you, as if contemplating the color, and then decide she wants you to try it on without asking, knowing you’ll argue with her.

“Do you miss it?” 

She shrugs her shoulders, nodding towards the dressing rooms and leading the way. She’s holding substantially more swimsuits than you are, and you know you’ll be trying on every single one.

“Sometimes? I miss my family. And I think even for Billy it’s mostly about his mom. California was the last place he was sort of…happy. But I like Hawkins, you know? And even if he likes it better now too, I’ve never been as determined to go back as he is.”

You pause outside the dressing room, clutching the slippery fabric harder than necessary. “I understand. Anything you want me to bring back for you?” 

Max opens the door for you and starts hanging up suits on the hooks provided. She grins. “I’ll never say no to a prize. Now stop stalling, and get in here.” 

You do as she says, and make her choose which one to try first, just to make it easier on yourself. 

Max closes her eyes while you change, but when she hears the shuffling stop and a sniffling replaces it, she moves her hands. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She stands up next to you.

You’re crying, but you’re trying so, so hard not to let the tears slip out. “I’m sorry,” you say, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. “I just haven’t seen my body like this in a long time, and I feel like I look so ugly.” 

She grabs your wrists and gently pulls them away from your face. 

“You don’t look ugly. You look great.” 

Max turns you so that you’re facing the mirror again. Your hands fly to your stomach, and you start to poke at it. She watches you pull at the skin of your hips, trying to see what it’d look like if there was less of it. 

“Don’t do that,” she scolds you. You let your hands fall to your sides, and she catches the stray tear before it can slide down your cheek. She’s being much too nice to you. 

“You don’t think that’s gross?” you question, criticizing your body in the mirror, comparing it to the stockpile of other bodies you’ve got in your brain. 

Max puts her hands on her hips. “No, I don’t think it’s gross. I think you look hot.”

You scoff, pulling at one of the straps. It’s a one- piece, in a color you really like, because you’re too scared to show your tummy right now. There’s a voice in the back of your head that says it looks just fine, but you ignore it. 

“You can’t really think that, Max.”

“Oh, but I can, and I do. So, you’re just gonna have to live with that. And Billy told me about your problems with your body—he’s got a big mouth, you know that? But I wanted to tell you that my hips look like that too. It’s normal.” 

She’s standing like Steve, determined to have you believe her. Determined to be there for you. 

“I think you should get this one,” she continues. “I know you like it.”

“I don’t know, Max.”

“Then try on a few more, okay? Don’t let your thoughts stop you from picking out something you like. As long as it’s comfortable, that’s all that matters. You have a great body, and you deserve to go to the beach with your boyfriend and wear a swimsuit.”

She flops down on the bench, an encouraging smile gracing her face when she reaches up and shoves another bathing suit into your hands. 

Max Mayfield is very convincing when she wants to be. Not only do you keep the tears at bay for the rest of the trip, you also end up getting the first one, as well as one she slipped in your basket at the last second because it “Looked too kickass not to buy.”

————

“You make a very pretty passenger princess, you know.”

Billy rolls his eyes, and even if you can’t exactly see the gesture with your own glued to the road, you feel the disturbance. He smacks his hand against your bare thigh and leaves it there, even if it is too hot for skin-to-skin contact. You know if it weren’t for the air conditioning blasting your face, you might’ve shoved him out of the car. 

“Turn up here, you little shit.”

You’ve made it off of all the main roads, now driving through beach town after beach town. Billy can’t even complain about your driving because well…you’re a good driver. He watches you eye the swankier resorts, the ones with pools and valet parking. He hopes you’ll be happy with the little house he found. It’s not too far from where he grew up, and he’d been pleased about being somewhat familiar with the area. 

The sound of gravel under the tires makes you feel safe. Billy directs you towards your destination, and when you park the car, you feel like you might cry. 

The house is small, sure, but it’s welcoming. The neighborhood isn’t suffocatingly full, either. Sure, there are other homes, some larger than others with their big balconies and wrap-around porches, but it feels…nice. 

You turn off the engine and get out. Billy walks around the other side of the car and wraps his arms around your waist. “You wanna go look around? I’ll come back and get our shit in a minute.”

You spin around and smack a kiss to his forehead. If his cheeks weren’t already red from the heat, he knows they would be simply from your affection. You nod, and Billy takes your hand, leading up the little set of stairs to the door. 

He bends over. “The lady on the phone said the key was under the mat.” He comes back up with the metal in hand. 

“The lady on the phone?” you wonder. 

Billy pushes the door open. “Yeah, it’s like an old ass couple renting this place out. She practically told me her whole life story the other day.” You grin and hook your fingers in his belt loops, letting him pull you around inside the house. 

It really is cozy. One bedroom, two and a half bathrooms. Comfy little barstools and a sweet couch. The part you’re really excited about is the porch. Excited enough that you separate from Billy and pull the sliding glass doors open to step outside. 

You can see the beach. It might take a little bit to walk down there, but you can see it. Which means you can watch the sunset. 

“You like it?” Billy leans against the doorframe behind you. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I really do.”

He pulls you in for a kiss then, lips warm and a little chapped against yours. 

“So, I have this plan.” You raise an eyebrow, clearly a little frightened by that idea. He grins, and kisses you again, trying to shut you up, you know. “There’s a board shop not far from here that closes in…” He pauses, looking at his watch. “An hour and a half. I was gonna rent one so that I can surf tomorrow. Do you wanna go with me or stay here?”

You look over at the bench tucked into the corner of the porch. The cushion looks very comfortable, and you did bring a book. He knows what you’re doing to say before you even say it. 

“I think I’ll stay here.”

“That’s cool, baby. I can pick up dinner?” He squeezes at your hips. 

“That would be nice.”

You reach around and slip your hands into his back pockets. He won’t say it, but you seem a little lighter now that you’re here. Like you aren’t so panicked about the prospect of vacation, but rather content to be there with him. It’s as if you know he’s going to take real good care of you–which he is. 

“That way you can explore, right?” he teases. You’re like a cat that way. You have to check everything out first before you really settle down. 

“Right.” You press a kiss to the tip of his nose, and he pats around on your ass, looking for his keys. When he secures them, he gives it a firm smack, just while he can get away with it, and then he’s moving away from you. 

But he’s right. You do feel a little more content. Maybe even comfortable.

————

“Be fucking still, William.”

“It’s cold,” he bites back. 

You’re rubbing sunscreen all over his back, and even if you’ve already covered the rest of him in it, and helped him tie his hair up into a sweet little bun, he’s destined to be the whiniest man in all of existence. You know for a fact that it isn’t that cold, considering he’d put it on you minutes before. 

“There.” You push your hand into the skin of his neck, making sure you’ve got every spot. You refuse to listen to him fuss about a sunburn. “I’m all done.”

 Billy turns around to face you, placing his sunglasses up on the top of his head. “Ready to get going then?”

“If by ready to watch you eat shit, then yes.”

Billy aligns his face with yours, locking eyes and everything. “I’m not gonna eat shit.”

“Eh,” you shrug, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I bet you will.”

He kisses your shoulder over the t-shirt you’re wearing. He still hasn’t seen the swimsuit you’ve put on, and you’re trying to postpone it for as long as possible. It’s a miracle you didn’t cry getting it on, but you tried to remember what Max had said, how sweet Billy had been when you’d come clean about your insecurities. It is comfortable, at least. You just feel all sorts of wrong wearing it. But you can’t let that ruin this whole trip. It’s not worth it. 

“Come on, grumpy pants. Get a move on.”

When you finally make it to the beach, you’re so hot and sticky you could beat the shit out of him right then and there. There’s no way this is actually enjoyable for people. Definitely not in this heat. 

Billy has left to retrieve an umbrella and a chair for you, insisting he can just sit on a towel. By the time he gets back, you’re full on pouting. It makes him laugh. You cross your arms and watch him work the umbrella into the sand. 

He finishes and reaches a hand out to pull you up from where you’d plopped on top of the towel bag. “It’s so hot,” you whine, faking tears. 

He just keeps laughing. “I know. That’s why you’re gonna come in the water with me, and then you’ll cool off and you can come sit here and watch me eat shit.”

He pulls his shirt off over his head. Your eyes wander all over his torso, soaking in every inch of skin, every freckle and scar. “I thought you weren’t gonna eat shit,” you argue, leaning in to kiss the raised patch on his chest. 

You wish you could be as confident about your body as he is sometimes. Things got really hard for Billy after Starcourt, but at some point something just snapped, and he decided he should show off the messy scars. He takes care of them as best as he can, much better care than he ever thought he would, and they are looking better.

You even wish that you could love on your own the way you do his. But that’s just not the case. 

“Yeah, well I probably will eat shit, so.” He gestures towards your shirt. “You gonna swim in that?” His eyes drop to your bare thighs. No one should be allowed to look that sweet.

“Um…no.” You tentatively grab the hem of your shirt and pull it off quickly, trying to rip off the bandaid. When you’re done, Billy has to remember to keep his mouth closed, his jaw having legitimately dropped. 

“Holy shit. This is the body you’ve been so mean to?”

“If you don’t stop, I’m gonna put the shirt back on.” 

He steps closer to you. He’s gawking. “No! Please don’t. You look hot, baby.”

You’re not sure anyone has ever called you hot before. Certainly not whilst in an item of clothing that doesn’t leave much to the imagination, even if you are pretty damn covered. It’s a little bit higher cut on the sides than you’re used to, but it holds everything in well. You feel exposed. If you think about it for too long you’ll probably just throw up. 

You put your hands over your belly and tilt your head, smushing your cheek into your shoulder. “Billy,” you fuss. 

He removes your hands and instead takes them in him, pulling you down the beach with him. When you get to the water, Billy watches you wade out until it’s knee deep, trying to keep his eyes away from your ass. 

He thinks you look fucking radiant like this. And he’s never actually even said that word. You’re looking down, probably for sand dollars or little fish. Billy takes this opportunity to look at your body. Not in a judgemental way by any means, but simply because he’s never gotten to see it like this. You’re being vulnerable with him, and that means more than anything else could. 

Billy wades out a little further than you and disappears beneath the waves for just a moment. When he emerges you think this is what people must have thought about Achilles. He is breathtakingly gorgeous, and it simply isn’t fair. You can’t believe that you have him. 

Billy walks you back to your umbrella and gets you nice and shielded from the sun before he heads back out to attempt surfing. He might’ve been messing with you, but it has been a few years, and he really might get his ass handed to him by the ocean. 

You’re eating a popsicle when he finally catches a wave, after having tried and failed for a little while. It’s impressive to see him up there like that, especially when you can’t even comprehend how he does it. 

You might hate the heat, and you might hate the fact that there’s sand up your ass, but you think you could sit here and watch Billy surf for hours with no complaint. It’s like he’s in his element, way more than when he played basketball. You can tell that he knows what he’s doing, that he sort of listens to the water and obeys. 

You allow yourself to imagine a future like this. One where maybe you can come back during the summers, just the two of you or maybe with Max and a friend of hers. You could never give up snow, so it couldn’t be permanent, but you could do it for Billy.

You could do anything if it meant getting to see him so happy. If it meant getting to feel so loved and so safe. It is your greatest honor to be loved by Billy Hargrove, a boy that everyone thought was incapable of loving. 

————

“Motherfucker.”

Billy’s voice echoes in the bathroom, reaching you where you lay in the bed. You can’t see him from where you are. 

It’s been a few days, and it’s gotten easier to put on that swimsuit. To look at yourself in the mirror. You’ve done a lot of thinking, a lot of listening. You might even say you’ve learned from Billy during this trip. Not that you’d boost his ego by telling him so.  

He rushes out of the bathroom and flops down in front of you, holding his hand aloft.  “Baby, I need help. I got a splinter from your goddamn umbrella. I can’t get it out.”

“What do you say, Hargrove?” You sit up, taking the tweezers from him with an evil grin on your face. 

“Pretty please?”

“That’s it.”

The second you get your eyes on the splinter, you know he just wanted attention from you. It’s big, and he could’ve just pulled it out with his fingernails. But you’re touched he wanted your help. That says a lot more than he probably realizes. 

You grip the edge of the teeny wood piece and gently pull it out from under his skin. You place it in the palm of his hand. “Ta-da.”

He snorts, and you kiss the tip of his finger. “All better now?”

“Yep.”

He slips into bed with you soon after, and you can’t help but sit up on your knees, just so you can get a good look at him. 

The freckles under his eyes have become loads more prominent, and they spread over his shoulders and collarbones like someone’s dumped glitter all over him. 

He lets you look at him, too, just admiring you in the moment. You look sleepy, beat from being out all day, from driving around to see where Billy grew up, but he thinks you’ve never looked prettier. He tells you so and you use his hand to shield your face. 

It makes Billy laugh, and he pushes your head gently, knowing you’ll go all dramatic and fall back, and when you do you end up in his lap. 

You curl up like a cat, wrapping your arms around him so you can rest your head on his tummy and splay your fingers out over his warm back. You change positions quickly though, propping your chin up with your hands. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” Billy says, swiping a thumb over the apple of your cheek. It’s a light enough touch that it tickles.

“Don’t have to thank me. I wanted to.”

He exhales. “I know, but I also know it’s been hard for you, being in your head all the time.”

“It’s okay. You’re helping.”

He smirks. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” You scoot up and tuck yourself into his side. You might not even need a blanket with all the heat he radiates. “Much too good to me,” you mutter, kissing his chest. 

“You deserve it.”

He feels you grin against his skin, bashful as ever no matter how long you’ve known each other. 

Billy moves onto his side and entangles himself with you, holding you tight to his chest. 

You reciprocate the hold, squeezing a little to tell him you love him. “Thank you for bringing me home. I can see how happy you are here.”

“I’d be happy anywhere as long as you were there too.”

You snort. “That’s so cheesy.”

“It’s true, though.” 

“I know it is.” You’re silent for a minute before you remember. “We gotta get Max a prize before we leave.”

“Oh yeah, bring the little shit a gift.”

“She deserves a prize for having helped me pick out a bathing suit.”

Billy contemplates your statement. “Hm. Yeah, that works. So what do I get then, huh?”

“My eternal love.”

“Oh. I was hoping you’d like, take me to dinner or something.”

“Talk about being a little shit,” you mumble, sleep taking over. For the first time, you aren’t worried about going to the beach tomorrow. You aren’t worried about what squish Billy might be able to feel, holding you like this. You feel comfortable. Maybe you’re not completely in love with yourself, but with Billy around, you might get there one day. For now, that’s enough. It’s more than enough. 

“Eternal love it is then.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[paigebooeckers1]

Maybe, Maybe Not

Paige x fem oc (Amiyah Dalton)

Hey guys! This is the first part to my first fic that I’m actually publishing which is kinda crazy for how long I’ve been reading on here and ao3, or writing and discarding. Idek if anyone will see this, but if you are reading welcome and I hope you enjoy! Depending on how this goes I may or may not write more parts, but yeah this is part one! 🫶🏽

Part 1

“Amiyah! Have you seen that black body suit of mine, like with the open back? I can’t find it anywhere.” My roommate yells at me from our shared bathroom.

“Oh no, definitely not,” I say sheepishly, knowing damn well it’s laying on my bed ready to be worn out tonight.

We’re getting ready to go out, one of us against their will and it certainty isn’t my insufferable best friend, who I just so happen to love enough to agree to go with.

It’s not even that I don’t love the party scene- quite the opposite actually, especially with Jade. But after finding out my ex transferred to UConn this year for football after I pretty much ran away from him, I’ve been trying to avoid the bars or parties like the plague. The thought of seeing him again— drunkenly trying to sneak his hands around my waist and convince me to give him another chance as he has about a dozen times before— it makes me nauseous.

However, I’ve also decided seeing him is inevitable and I’m done hiding from his sorry ass, hence why I’m contently getting ready in my pink Victoria Secret robe, humming along to Playing Games by Summer Walker as I finish up my makeup. I think I enjoy getting ready more than actually leaving the dorm.

Jade suddenly storms into my room, breaking me from my thoughts and making me mess up my brown lip liner in the process. Though I can’t even stifle my laugh as we both stare at the body suit in all its glory, paired with my favorite pair of low rise baggy jeans and my black Jordan 4s as it lays on my bed, waiting to be put on.

“I fuckin knew it, asshole,” not a hint of annoyance in her voice as she says it. “You’re lucky it looks better on you anyways.”

“I love you, too!” I say smiling to myself as she goes back to her spot in the bathroom sink, trying to perfect her lash clusters. I observe myself in my vanity mirror as I put on my last layer of lip gloss, making sure my makeup and curls look better than ever. Although there’s no real occasion, it almost feels like one, like I need to prove myself tonight, and I hate myself for it. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone, especially not Jordan. Even thinking of his name puts me in a bad mood.

I push the thought down, though, knowing it’ll only boost the anxiety I already feel before going pretty much anywhere when I don’t know what to expect. Tonight is about me and my best friend looking good and hopefully getting drunk.

I skip a few songs on my R&B playlist before getting up to get changed, knowing having my outfit on will automatically boost my confidence. Jade is already in the kitchen pouring us pregame shots, so I decide to pick up my pace. She’s clad in a pair of black, baggy cargos and a burgundy cropped tube-top, her belly ring glistening and boho braids reaching just above her ass.

She saunters into my room with the shots in hand, singing along to Practice by Drake that’s blaring from my speaker as she downs the vodka and has her arm raised to give me mine. One thing about Jade is she knows how to get you hyped for a night out. “I don’t know about you, but I’m excited as hell for tonight.” she always says. Jade’s the kind of friend that can mold into any situation you need her for, and I love her for it.

“Me too, honestly,” though I only half mean it. “And we look good. I swear if you bring someone home tonight though, I’ll kill you. That’s the last thing I needa hear.”

“You should know I just go where the wind takes me by now, Amiyah.” she says dismissively. She will most definitely be bringing someone home tonight. “What about you miss ‘I’m too good for everyone?’”

I laugh at this. I don’t have that mentality at all, but I certainly have slowed down when it comes to hook ups and one night stands since my freshman year at UConn. I’m a junior now, but I find it a waste of time. You get wasted, go home with someone, wake up the next morning feeling like shit (physically and mentally), and leave as fast as possible. Having said that, I find it hard to commit to relationships just as much.

“Nope, I just wanna drink tonight, Jade.

You already know.”

“Man you gotta live a little more, and how you gon claim you’re bi but never want to get with anyone, you literally like both!” Jade says jokingly. I can’t help but laugh at the irony of that—it’s very true.

“You should really focus more on yourself, god knows you need to.” I’m of course joking. She flips me off with her acrylic nail before heading to the kitchen to pour us each one more pregame shot.

I throw a few rings on my manicured hands to compliment the tattoos on my fingers, and spray my favorite perfume before leaving my room, making sure to grab my ID and lipgloss filled purse. Jade is already taking her final shot and I join her, the liquor burning my throat while also easing my mind. I take one final look at myself in the large mirror by our door, admiring the way my (Jades) body suit hugs my waist perfectly, the way my jeans hang low and flattering on my hips, my gold jewelry complimenting my brown skin. I feel good.

“You probably shouldn’t look so good if you want to avoid Jordan, Ami.” Jade says with a joking tone, but there’s also meaning behind it. She knows how bad our relationship was, and I think all 5’5 of her would be willing to beat his ass for me.

“Nah, I don’t need to worry about him, he should be scared of seeing me.” And I mean every word, whether I believe it myself or not. I scrunch my curls in the mirror before we head out the door. I feel good. Tonight is going to be good.

Hopefully.

-

Ted’s is packed. I’m not sure exactly what else I was expecting for a Friday night, but it never ceases to amaze me how many college students can fit into such a tiny bar. I instinctively grab Jades elbow as she guides us through the crowded bar so we can order our drinks. Surprisingly, there’s two stools open at the bar, which we rush to. I sit down with a huff and scope out who’s at Ted’s tonight as I order our drinks; a dirty shirley for me and rum and coke for Jade.

“Here you go ladies, they’re on the house,” the bartender says with a wink as he slides us our drinks. I shoot him a toothy grin and thank you. Although flattered, I have to fight back an eye roll. Too many men have egos bigger than themselves, probably thinks he’ll be taking one of us home tonight. I take a sip of the drink, the grenadine hitting my taste buds and it makes me wonder how people could order any other drink. I turn on the barstool to say exactly that to Jade, but she’s already off to the side of the bar talking to a guy she’s been talking to on the football team, Nick or something. Typical.

A wave of self-consciousness hits me sitting at the bar alone, so I go on my phone to distract myself, sipping on my drink and mindlessly scrolling through instagram. That is until I hear that familiar yet dreaded voice calling my name, almost taunting me. I should’ve known. I should’ve told Jade to stay with me.

Fuck.

“Ayy Amiyah. I called your name bout’ 10 times. You too good to talk to me now or sum, baby?” His voice is slurred with alcohol and dripping with cockiness. It makes me sick.

“Don’t fucking call me that, Jordan.” I don’t even look at him as I say with it as much force as possible, though I feel small as he puts a hand on the small of my back, towering over me with a smirk that says ‘I know you still want me.’ It’s gross. I quickly stand up in attempt to leave his presence and find Jade, but he’s faster than I am, like he knew what was going to happen before he even approached me.

His right hand grabs my wrist, the other snaking around my waist. He pulls me into him in attempt to keep me close, so close I can smell the alcohol on his breath as it fans my face. I turn my head away and immediately try to squirm out of his grasp, my free hand trying to push him off of me. Not only to get away from him, but I also can’t let him see any weakness that is forcing itself to break through me.

“Get the fuck off me bro.” I say, finally breaking free from his grasp, feeling the need to disinfect my entire body. I’m floored as Jordan has the audacity to reach for me again. “I don’t know know why you always playing hard to get Ami, just let me take you ho-“

“Yoo, everything good here?” A tall, blonde figure inserts herself between us, one hand holding her drink, the other on his shoulder pushing him back with enough force to cut him off. That’s hot as fuck I think to myself, but my face stays in the same scowl directed toward him. I have to stifle a laugh as he quickly cowers under her, as she probably has a good inch or two on him.

“Oh yeah, man, just tryna talk to my girl here,” he says with a smirk. I swear I see red as the words leave his mouth. We’re done. I left. And he thinks he has the right to call me his girl? Insane.

“Your girl? Well it don’t look like she really wanna talk to you, not gonna lie.” She says it so sternly, I almost feel intimidated and she isn’t even talking to me. As much as I appreciate this girls gesture, I quite literally can’t hold back from telling him off myself.

“‘Your girl’ is actually crazy. I am not your girl, and I am not about to have this conversation with you here. Get the fuck out my face.” I get up in his face, ready to bitch slap the smug look he somehow still has on his face right off.

“Yeah you should probably get the fuck out the bar, actually,” the girl says firmly. I can’t even see her face, but clearly the look on it says more than words because at that, he looks at me, then at the blonde, then to me again. Although it looks like he wants to argue, we all know it won’t get him anywhere, especially in a crowded bar.

He mutters a string of curse words I couldn’t care less about under his breath as he walks toward the exit and I immediately relax, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Not only is he gone, but hopefully he’ll get the hint and leave me alone. For good. I’m not sure if he thought coming to UConn would win me back, but he’s dead wrong. I’m done falling for his lies, the way he tries to sweet talk me back into his life. It might’ve worked in the past, but not anymore.

I’m broken from my thoughts as the blonde clears her throat behind me, and I suddenly feeling bad for forgetting she was even there, as I still have my back to her as I stare at the exit door. I quickly turn around to thank her for cutting him off, and that’s when I realize I’m face to face with Paige Bueckers.

Paige Bueckers; basketball phenom, campus celebrity, not to mention major whore. It’s annoyingly hard to deny how attractive she is, though— she’s wearing a simple back t-shirt that shows off her biceps, grey sweats hung low on her hips, enough to see the Nike boxers peeking under them. A silver chain decorates her neck and her blonde hair is slicked back into a bun. Her jaw is sharp, her nose perfectly sloped, big blue eyes staring right down into my brown ones, her plump bottom lip jutted out and tied up in a small smile— fuck what was I saying? Oh yeah..her roster is disturbingly long and I personally do not want to be another tally on that list. So, I keep my cool.

“Oh, thanks for that. You didn’t need to, I could’ve handled him,” I say with ease, adjusting the straps of my body suit. I smirk up at her, not missing the way her eyes follow my actions, almost hungrily.

There’s a beat of silence as she’s looking down at me, until she licks her lips. “Oh, yeah don’t worry bout’ it.” She pauses again. “Sooo...is he your boyfriend? Annoying ex?” she says with that infamous smirk. There it is. The cockiness, the charm that pulls every girl she glances at in.

“Ex. More than annoying, though. I’d probably go with crazy, obsessive, dickhead.” I laugh, though it holds little humour.

She laughs, too. “Yeah, I got my fair share of those.” Yeah I don’t doubt it, I think to myself. Her eyes rake over my body and she licks her lips again. It’s taking everything in me not to look at them.

“So what’s your name, ma?” The nickname rolls off her tongue like she’s said it hundreds of times before, though it does have more than an effect on me than it should.

“Amiyah.” Despite the feeling in my stomach, my tone remains casual, sultry, even. I can see I’m having some kind of effect on her, which boosts my confidence slightly. “And you are…”

“I’m Paige,” Her cocky expression falters slightly, yet she still holds hold her hand out, smiling. I let out a real laugh, but accept the handshake regardless. As if I don’t already know exactly who she is, and as if she doesn’t know I do. “I know your name, basketball star. You gon’ give me your autograph or what?” She’s still holding my manicured hand, thumb brushing over one of the tattoos on my fingers before dropping it. Fuck.

“Amiyah…” she drags out the last syllable before continuing. “Pretty name, pretty face, and a sense of humor? I feel like I needa buy you a drink.” She flashes me a genuine smile. I think about it for a moment, I really do. But I also remember my goal for tonight, and I’m not about to change my mind for Paige Bueckers. Though it’s very hard to do so as her blue eyes bore into my brown ones, making my 5’4 feel much shorter.

“I’m flattered, but no thank you. I gotta find my friend she’s probably looking for me. Plus, I already got one, see?” I grab my dirty shirley, only remembering it’s sitting beside me on the bar when I reach for my purse to leave and collect Jade.

“Dirty shirley, you got taste, huh?” She says as she stirs her own. Her voice is casual, yet laced with something I can’t put a finger on.

“Yeah, can’t go wrong, right?” I don’t even wait for her response. “Well thanks again for helping me, I appreciate it.” I give her a quick smile.

“Yeah, yeah no problem.” She says casually, rubbing the back of her neck. I can read her expression, though, and it’s telling me that she’s thrown off. That her streak of buying a pretty girl a drink and taking her home to do god knows what else is broken. I almost feel proud.

“See you around, Paige.” I don’t wait for a response before leaving her at the bar, forgetting my drink in the process but I can’t find it in me to care. I need to get out of her presence before I actually fold. I easily find Jade, looking not very happy, and not very sober.

“Let’s leave, I’m sick of tonight.” Her voice is slurred, and I can’t help but laugh. I’ve dealt with one too many emotional, drunken Jade moments that I’m sure it’s about Nick. I don’t even argue her, wanting nothing more than to take my makeup and jeans off and go to bed at this point.

As we’re walking out, I quickly glance back at the bar at see Paige still there. She’s sitting now, sipping on her own dirty shirley with a tight-lipped smile. Her teammates, Jana, Ice, and Kk, are laughing at her, like they’re teasing her. I can’t help but wonder if it’s about the interaction she just had with me. Were they watching her, waiting to see if she’d score a catch? I laugh to myself, glad I was able to give them a different ending to a show they probably see way too often. I’m sure she’ll find someone else in no time.

Luckily the walk back to our apartment is short. Jade is mumbling in annoyance, half to me, half to herself, something about leaving so soon and cutting it off with her boy-toy who she’ll most likely be back to soon enough. I tune her out; for some reason I can’t stop thinking about Paige. How she looked at me, like I was the only girl in that bar. I force the thoughts away though, knowing exactly how the night would’ve ended if it had gone another way. I’d be one more tally on her list of girls to say she’s got with to only forget about two days later.

I hate being vulnerable, so I avoid it at all costs. Maybe that’s why I avoid intimacy, whether it’s for one night or one year. Maybe that’s why I have raging trust issues. Who knows, I don’t want to find out and I don’t need to either. Not now, at least.

“Next time, you’re coming with me again whether you like it or not, and you’re having fun!” Jade says to me, trying to serious, but I only laugh at the slur of her words, as she had much more to drink than me tonight. I decide to hold off on telling her about my events tonight until the morning. “Ion wanna hear nooo excuses missy!”

“Yeah yeah Jade, go to bed babe.” I say as we finally reach our apartment, slipping inside and locking the door. I retreat to the comfort of my bed where I’m left alone with my thoughts. Maybe I want to go next time, maybe I want to see what happens.

Maybe.

-

“Amiyah, you’ve got to be joking…you’re joking right?” Jade’s deadpanning me, her voice sounding genuinely angry. I feel like I’m coming out to my mother again. We’re sitting on my bed, the morning sun peeking through my half shut curtains, iced coffees we picked up from the campus cafe in our hands.

“What? I don’t see what’s wrong here.”

“You telling me Paige Bueckers eye fucked you, shook your hand, offered to bye you a drink…and you said… no?” She’s laughing, almost to herself. “You’re unbelievable. This is what I’m talking about. That woman is every girls dream, and you shut her down like some random guy. You’re even too good for Paige Bueckers. I can’t-” I cut her off before she can continue her rant, much too passionate about this whole situation for a girl who’s supposedly straight.

“Personally I think you’re being very dramatic. She just wanted to hit and dip, that’s what she does and everyone knows it.” I sip my coffee, simply wanting to be done with this conversation.

“Oh okay, so if, like, Drew Starkey was at that bar, asked to buy you a drink and take you home, would you say no?” I let out a loud laugh, partly because of how passionate she is being about this, partly because she compared Paige Bueckers to Drew Starkey. Did I say Paige wasn’t absolutely gorgeous? No. I just don’t need to be another trophy on her case.

“I’m not answering that, Jade. This is about my dignity, not my attraction. I’m done with this conversation and I think you should be too.” I shake my head lightheartedly as I get up and head to the bathroom, taking my curly hair out of its bun and shaking it out. “If anything, let’s talk about your horrible taste in men. Nick? Really? First of all ew, second of all he seems like a dick.”

“Shut up Ami, he’s not that bad. And he’s funny! Don’t worry, he knows where home is.” We both laugh at that, because somehow Jade always does lure them back in somehow. She fails to mention my pretty bad track record of relationships. Jordan, on and off since senior year of high school turned crazy ex.

Olivia, my best friend, sophomore to senior year of high school.(do not recommend best friend to girlfriend pipeline)

And then there’s my very concerning list of hookups, which Paige did not need to be apart of to make for another traumatic story. Nope. Don’t even like the thought of how her hands would feel around waist, how her lips would feel…Not at all.

And that’s final.

-

Paige’s POV

“Girl boo, do not even lie right now, lying is a major sin. Do you want to go hell? I did NOT think so!” Kk is practically screaming at me. It’s been two days since the bar, and she’s felt the need to tell pretty much everyone in her path, including all of our teammates, about my interaction with Amiyah. Hell, I think she even told CD. So what? She said no to me buying her a drink. That happens. It’s not a big deal.

“I swear I had to walk over to you after she left, pick your jaw up off the floor and put it back in your mouth, Paige.” Ice chimes in now. Okay maybe it is a big deal. Maybe my ego is a little bruised. I couldn’t help but falter when she declined my offer, especially after saving her from that douche who was basically assaulting her in the middle of the bar.

“Alright, alright chill. Y’all are reaching now. It’s literally just a drink.”

“Okay. Then if it’s just a drink, why were you sulking for the rest of the night, and this morning? You literally are right now!” Jana says, and I’m suddenly aware of my hunched posture and furrowed eyebrows. I don’t even answer her question. Not only do I really think it’s not worth talking about, but I also don’t have an answer. Sure, I could blame it on the fact that I don’t think I’ve ever been rejected like that, so casually like she had anything better to do. But even then, usually I’d go find another girl to talk to, to take home, to fill some kind of void I constantly felt. But I didn’t even want to.

There’s something about Amiyah. The way her big brown eyes stared up at me like she was trying to figure me out, but saw right through me at the same time. Her plump lips, the dimple she had on her left cheek when she smirked at me. The small freckles that lined her nose paired with a gold septum, the curve and sway of her hips when she walked away. Or maybe it’s the confidence she had, the drawl in her voice, way she didn’t seem fazed by anything— me, her ex, the whole situation. She just wanted to find her friend. It made me want to get to know her more. It drew me in.

So now I’m here, getting it rubbed in by my friends as we sit in the living room of me, Jana and Allies apartment.

“I’m bouta kick all of you out, for real.” I say, not even really joking. It’s late and I have class in the morning, though I can’t even remember what it is. I think I’ve been maybe 3 times this year. (super senior things, chill)

“We heading out anyways, academic weapon things. Oh, and go take a shower, your attitude stinks!” Kk and Ice filter out of the dorm, leaving just Allie, Jana and I, their calmer presence lowering my blood pressure. It’s silent for a moment, as Jana’s already in bed and Allie is making some snack.

“Do you really like her or something? What’s really got you so bothered, P?” Allie quietly asks me from the kitchen as I’m getting up to head to my room. She seems genuinely concerned and it confuses me. Am I really being that weird? I guess I am, I don’t think I’ve stopped replaying the interaction with Amiyah in my head since it happened. I think three separate girls texted me today asking if I wanted to hangout, and I haven’t even bothered to open any of them.

“Nah it’s chill I’m like, over it. Thanks though, Allie.” I’m almost trying to convince myself. She nods in response and I shut my door, plopping onto my bed. My hands run down my face in frustration before opening my phone to mindlessly scroll on instagram, still thinking about the interaction. Was I weird with her? Should I have butted into her and that guys argument? Did I ask stupid questions? That one I can answer; asking for her name.

Amiyah Dalton. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know who she was before I came up to her. I’ve seen her around campus, though she’s very hard to miss. It’s like she’s constantly glowing, her smile lighting up any room she walks into. At the same time, she also has this mysterious energy, like no one actually ever knows what’s going on in her head. Maybe I see through her because I’m the same way, but that doesn’t matter. I’ve heard murmurs about her through mutual friends, girls and guys saying they’ve hooked up with her and hardly ever heard from her again.

Maybe I’m this bothered because I thought I could be different, like I could take her home and prove that I am. But I didn’t even get to do that after she basically brushed me to the side. I feel like I need to prove myself to her. Yeah, that’s all. I just need one night, one taste of her and I’ll be fine.

I’m broken out of my trance when her instagram comes up on my feed as “suggested for you.” Real funny. My fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they click on her profile. I spend more time than I’d like to admit on there, intently looking at each post, wanting nothing more than to like, comment and favorite every one. My thumb even hovers over the follow button for about 5 minutes before I decide against it. She probably already thinks I’m weird, I shouldn’t…but what if I shoot my shot and she notices me? Nah she’d proba- Am I really think this hard about a fucking instagram page? Maybe. Am I going to bag this woman? Yes.

Well, maybe.

[michaelsfavgirl]

needy

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: As the days pass, during a holiday stay at Hayvenhurst, your need for Michael grows more insistent, leading you to beg for his touch while everyone else is home.

Tags: smut, teasing, p in v, creampie, dom!michael, sub!reader, tummy bulge, spit, semi-exhibitionism.

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: hi! This is my first time posting a one-shot on here. I hope you like it <3 Constructive criticism and suggestions about future fics are welcome in my inbox. I'd appreciate it if you could reblog and interact to give me more motivation to write :) thank you.

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

“God, you’re so needy,” he whispers while holding you close to his chest. You huff and knit your eyebrows together. “Am not,” you say. He raises his eyebrows in mock disbelief.

“Look at you,” he kneads your soft waist and looks at you with an amused expression. You are needy, there's no denying it. “I've spoiled you too much.” He cups your face with his large, exceptionally skilled hands that have made you feel like you have been to heaven and back. 

You blush from the intimate proximity, how you can feel his minty breath fawning over your face while the chatter from downstairs can still be heard. You frown at his statement, clearly not liking the fact that you're not getting your way like you usually do. 

“Normalized stuffing your cunt with my cock on a daily, and now look at the consequences-” he glides his hand down to your ass but doesn't give it the attention you crave. He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, instinctively you part your lips and try to gently graze it with your tongue before he takes it away. “-can’t even go a few days without having your greedy pussy touched.” 

You whimper at his words, desperately pawing at his chest, pleading him to make the achy feeling between your legs go away. “Michael, please…” 

Suddenly loud laughter emerges from the outside, bringing you out of your fuzzy state. “You hear that, baby?” you nod and swallow, looking up at him with glossy eyes. “Do you want everyone to find out how naughty you really are? I mean, what would my family think?” he cocks his head to the side and smirks.

You whine and squeeze your thighs together, trying to soothe your pulsing clit. “I'll be quiet, I promise.” Michael chuckles lowly. “Yeah? Will you, sweet girl?” he caresses your bottom lip with his thumb. You nod enthusiastically. Your neediness pouring out of you. 

After softly tracing your face with his fingers he gently pulls you closer to him and his plump lips. He connects your mouths in a kiss that should be rushed and heated considering the circumstances but it’s not. It’s sweet. Slow. Passionate. Full of adoration. 

Michael feels your body melt into his which makes him smile into the kiss. He can’t help but feel his ego inflate at the fact that he has such an effect on you. His precious, pretty girl can only have her desires satisfied by him. Nobody else knows your body like he does. 

As the kiss continues to be steady you place your hand on the back of his neck to urge him to pick up the pace, not wanting to drag this out and have someone barge in from suspicions. He pulls away in response, leaving your lips slightly swollen and shining with his saliva. 

“You know better than to rush me baby” he tightens his grip on your waist as a warning and teasingly makes his way from your jawline to your neck. He leaves short open mouthed kisses on your heated skin, taking his sweet time as if his entire family isn’t downstairs wondering what’s taking y’all so long. 

It’s not really about being rushed, it’s about quickies. He absolutely hates no, loathes them. Can’t wrap his mind around the concept, why would anyone want to hastily fuck like bunnies without much foreplay just because the people are desperate? Have some self control! It makes him feel as if you’re a toy to him which makes his skin crawl. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he’ll make sure to let you know in every way, especially when it comes to your bedroom. 

When it comes to sex Michael likes to take his time. From foreplay to aftercare he’s the most attentive lover. Likes to thoroughly prep you with his fingers and mouth before stretching your slick pussy with his fat, lengthy cock. And he never dares to cum before you, you always come first, literally and figuratively. Multiple times a night too to make sure you’re completely sated and blissed out in the end. And then he cleans you up and cuddles you to his chest until sleep takes over you. 

So you can imagine how quickies are torturous for him. But this time he understands. It’s been a few days since you two arrived at hayvenhurst, his family home, for the holidays. He hasn’t touched you intimately once during the stay which has been driving you mad, Spoiled from having your cunt played with almost every day. Seeing you trembling in his arms reminds him of when he made love to you for the first time. 

“Shh, Shh, I’ll take care of you sweet girl I promise” he responds to your meek whimpers. 

He pushes you closer to the bed making your knees give out and sit on the edge of it. He kneels in front of you, god he looks so good on his knees, breathing heavily, he looks like he’s about to devour you. 

He parts your legs with his warm hands and licks his lips like a hungry predator. You lean back slightly, balancing your weight on your trembling palms. “You’re lucky you’re cute” he says as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

Michael flips up your skirt, exposing your panties which have a noticeable wet spot around your hole that’s begging to be stuffed full. Clenching around nothing you feel his hands sliding up and down your inner thighs. Soft hands squeezing closer and closer to where you need him most as his mouth litters short pecks on your skin. 

As he gets dangerously close to your heat you remember that the door isn’t locked. Panic rises inside you, you whine and try to close your legs but Michaels much stronger hands keep them pried open. 

“…the door” you whisper worriedly. 

“What about it?” Unbothered, he goes back to kissing your soft thighs. 

Bewildered, you try to shove his head away with your hand. Wrong move. He glares at you, giving you a warning look. 

“It’s- it’s not locked” you manage to blurt out, his teasing caresses and wet kisses making it hard for you to properly articulate your thoughts. 

He huffs and rolls his eyes slightly, he stands up and goes to the door. You breath out thankfully, a bit too soon though. Michael turns the handle and opens the door a little, not too much but enough for somebody walking by to have a peak. He comes back with a nonchalant attitude and stands between your legs again.

This man will be the death of you.

“Is something wrong?” He tries to act casual as if what he just did isn’t insane, but you can see a glimmer of mischief in his gorgeous brown eyes. Now he’s lucky that he’s cute.

“If you want it so bad then you’ll be able to be quiet, right?”

“Or is that too much for you?” he leans back slightly. 

As he's about to take a step back you reach out and grasp onto his forearms. “Michael…” breathless and needy, you beg. You beg him to just quickly take his cock out and fuck you. You’d do anything at this point. The tingling feeling in your tummy drives you mad.

Speechless for a second, Michael recovers fast, as he had never seen you so desperate before. Something about that definitely turned him on but he doesn't have time to ponder about that right now. He needs to take care of his girl.

He groans under his breath, knowing he doesn't have time to eat you out. 

Ugh, what a bummer. 

He grabs your hips and pushes you back onto the bed with your legs still dangling off it. He hikes up your shirt enough so that your bra is showing and pulls your panties to the side. You whimper as the cold air hits your bare skin. Jesus you’re drenched, your folds glossy and puffy from being neglected. 

Michael’s hands itch to touch you, to stretch you on his long fingers before putting his cock in you but he can’t, can’t risk others getting suspicious of you two, I mean the door is ajar anyway, can’t waste anymore time.

Swiftly he unzips his trousers and pulls it, along with his boxers, down. His thick cock springs out, pre-cum leaking out his tip. Your mouth waters as you stare at it, dick fully hard and pulsing. He wraps his hand around the base and pulls back his foreskin lightly, making more of his tasty cum to drip out and land right onto your clit. You shiver at the contact as you feel it dripping down your slit. 

He wraps your legs around his hips and moves closer to you. He tugs on his cock a few times before pressing his hot tip against your sensitive nub. You don’t even have time to react as he starts to rub your clit in little circles. Your head falls back onto the sheets as you finally feel a tiny bit of relief. You buck your hips, wanting more but Michael shushes you, telling you to be grateful for what he’s giving you. 

He slides his cockhead down to your needy hole and tries to slip his fat cock inside you. He pushes slightly a few times but only manages to get half of his tip in before you start whimpering from the stretch. Amused by your cries he urges his fingers against your lips. 

“Spit” he commands. You widen your eyes slightly. You shakily part your lips and spit onto his fingers. “More, again” his voice sounds more hoarse, you can tell he's just as aroused as you no matter how much he tries to deny it. you do as he says and feel your cheeks heating up. 

Satisfied he brings his hand down to his shaft and smears it all around his dick. You squeeze your walls at the delicious sight, his cock now covered and shining in your spit. 

He grabs onto your hip with his left hand and slowly pushes his cock past your slippery folds. You moan quietly, trying not to make too much noise. Desperately clawing at the sheets you gasp as you feel your gummy walls stretch around his fat, lengthy cock. He’s not even fully inside you and you're panting like a dog in heat. 

“See? See how prep is so important now?” He taunts you with his righteous, but extremely attractive, attitude. You nod and bite your lip to suppress your noises. 

He grunts as he watches his cock disappear into your slick pussy, your walls hug him so good he might cum right there, but he stops himself. Faltering his movements he stops briefly to let you catch your breath. Yeah, it’s obviously for you, he doesn't need a minute to collect himself, definitely not. Liar.

After a minute he pulls out slightly and thrusts back in again, not fully though. He starts to pump his cock inside you at a steady pace, making you feel his prominent veins rubbing against your slick walls. 

“No, want all of you” you whine. 

“You can’t take more right now, don't start with me” he says sternly and continues to plunge himself into your tight cunt. 

“I can-” he brings you out of your cock drunk haze by cupping your jaw with his fingers, not aggressively though, you’re still his princess. “don’t wanna hurt you, baby” before you can protest he makes you look down and see the outline of his big cock on your belly bulging slightly. You mewl defeatedly and lay your head back onto the bed obediently. 

“Good girl”

He resumes his rhythmic thrusts and low grunts and even whimpers. God he looks so good like this, on top, his eyebrows knitted from concentration, hands groping your soft inner thighs. Beautiful. 

As he picks up his pace ever so slightly he brings his thumb to toy with your pulsing clit. You bring your palm to your mouth to stop yourself from moaning. You can feel more of his clear pre-cum oozing out his tip, making everything more slippery. As a consequence of his fastened pace the sounds of your squelching pussy and his heavy balls slapping against your ass intensifies. You’re close, so, so close.

“Mike” you whimper. 

“I know, baby, i know” he looks down at your blissed out face and coos at you. 

Michael looks at where you’re connected and groans, there's a white ring of your cum forming around his dark cock, that along with him being able to see his cock bulging in your tummy sends his senses into overdrive. His thumb keeps rubbing your button in tight circles as he feels himself get closer to the edge of his release. Feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure that only he can give you, you arch your back, anticipating your sweet release.

“Fuck- come for me baby, cream on my cock” he says and throws his head back.

You feel a familiar sensation in your lower tummy whilst he feels his balls tightening, ready to fill you up with his sticky seed. Frantically you reach out your hand and intertwine it with his much larger one, wanting to feel as close to his as you can. 

As your pent up desires reach a tipping point you feel your legs tremble as you throw your head back and let the powerful orgasm wash over you, mouth open, whining from how good it feels. As Michael sees your face he feels the same feeling arise within him, squeezing his eyes shut he grunts as he pumps you full of his cum, rope after rope of his creamy seed filling you up to the brim, just how you like it. When he feels his cum trying to escape your little hole he pushes in slightly, to make sure that none of it goes to waste, making you whimper from the unexpected stretch. 

“Still needy?” Breathless, he asks with a smile plastered on his face. You giggle and shake your head as you admire how his curls frame his face so nicely. 

Unfortunately, You don’t get the chance to fully calm down from your high before you hear a familiar voice coming from behind him.

“-Michael?” 

shit.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

[l223m0nade]

Bees (a stucky au snzfic)

ok

ok ok

so I saw this random thing on a tumblr post:

and it got its Stucky-idea hooks so deep in my brain. It just did. And the thing is my deepest inspo is honestly in the land of snz. (This fic kind of ends abruptly sorry but i want to do more and it'll probably end up on Ao3 w like a M or E rating 😳🫣 when and if that happens i'll link to it)

Stucky au, no powers, age gap, what I'm picturing in my head goes less with the words "silver fox Steve" and more with the words "dorky Dilf Steve" like 2012 Cap fashion with current Chris Evans face? in..a good way? and longhair early-20s burnout Bucky. I have some backstory headcanons that are just hinted at here, hopefully it's tantalizing rather than confusing.

anyway have 11.5k words of this and encourage me to write more bc i have fallen in love with these particular boyz. Some light existential angst but mainly idiots pining aka the sweetest sauce

~Fic~

Sam isn’t sure how much longer he can allow this to go on. His barback and the new semi-regular square dude are once again being all awkwardly flirty while pretending they’re not, like two sad lonely white...ducks, who never learned a mating dance and have zero game.

At least Square Dude has an excuse: he’s the most obvious newly-divorced newly-out family-type guy Sam’s ever seen. He’s clean-cut, with a ridiculously handsome square jaw, wearing well-made but unstylish button-down shirts and pants that make him look like he belongs in a Norman Rockwell painting. He started coming in about two months ago, quiet, friendly when ordering his one or two beers of the evening, and firmly shy when it comes to the inevitable overtures sent his way. It doesn’t take a genius to see that this is him dipping a first toe into the pool: coming to a relatively quiet gay bar, just to sit and watch men talk to each other and let the whole notion sink in.

By now most guys would’ve found someone to spread their wings with or gone elsewhere to find em, but Square Dude, whose name is Steve, seems content to talk to the guy who pours his beer about whatever DIY project Bucky is pulling questions out of his ass about.

The crush is painfully obvious, and suburban closeted Steve can’t be blamed for having no deal-sealing abilities, but Bucky has no such excuse. Sam has watched him pull stiff-backed business bros in five minutes flat when the mood struck him, with his big blue puppy eyes and his dark wicked smirk and long lean slouch. But with Steve all he appears capable of doing is asking him questions about crown molding as though those words mean anything to him while gazing at him like he’s beaming the words You could fix me directly into Steve’s skull. Steve, for his part, just doesn’t seem to be able to look anywhere other than Bucky.

As usual, anyone that tries to strike anything beyond a friendly conversation is kindly but firmly rebuffed. “He’s not ready for that yet,” Bucky had insisted with unnecessary defensiveness when Sam implied it was time for the new guy to move from spectating to participating in the relatively mellow flirting and hookup scene the bar played host to most evenings. “People go at their own pace.”

“The only pace he’s going at is towards you,” Sam smirked. Bucky glowered at his implication. “You gotta make it weird. He comes here to, like, practice. I’m part of that, in a chill, friendly way.” He shrugged and looked at the glass he was drying. “When he is ready, it’s not gonna be for me, it’s gonna be for someone actually in his league, like a...hot college professor, or something.” Sam had rolled his eyes and resolved to stop trying to help Bucky Barnes flail around in his mess of a love life anymore, for the hundredth or so time.

Tonight is busy enough that Sam can mostly be distracted from this bad sitcom, and not so busy that he has to yell at Barnes for being distracted. Still, there are a couple empties on tables in the Steve-less side of the bar, and after finishing the drinks for the people in front of him he turns, catching Bucky’s voice, in a tone of delight he uses when speaking with only one person, saying “Wait. Seriously? Bees?”

“Yeah!” Steve responds, equally puppyish. He’s tall and broad, sandy hair and beard just beginning to show a hint of salt-and-pepper. He looks like anyone’s fantasy fireman or lumberjack, at least in the context of a place like this. He also exudes genuine sweetness and vulnerability despite his intimidating muscled height.

Bucky Barnes, Sam’s barback and old friend, leans against the bar doing the helpless-goober-with-a-crush stare, a look on his face like Steve just announced he was a Nobel Prize winner. “No way. How do you keep bees? Just as, what, a casual hobby? That’s, like, a whole thing, you can’t be an expert in so many things!”

Bucky is all shaggy longish dark hair and stupid cheap graphic t-shirts, with a striking, animated face that is used mainly for sarcasm. He and Sam had been at the same high school a few blocks away, though Sam is older, and in the funny way of life they’ve wound up good friends. He’s working at Sam’s place because, in his words, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing with his life. Bucky’s going through his own version of one of those fairly bleak lost periods of 20-something misery, but he’s smart and not a drunk and decent at what he does for Sam, and if he bangs a third of the customers he does it discreetly enough. Sam never knew dark-blond, broad-shouldered, bass-voice sad-eyed dudes pushing 40 were the kryptonite that made him unable to do anything including flirt, until Steve came in one day and Bucky sprayed himself with the keg he was tapping.

Steve chuckles— is this man blushing? “Oh no, I’m nowhere near an expert. But it’s pretty easy once they get established. Don’t need much from you. I’m not, uh, living at the place with the backyard where the hives are, right now….so….but they’ll be fine without me.”

Steve gets a little quiet and Bucky’s fangirl expression dims with distressed sympathy. It gets sad like this sometimes when talking to Steve. Recently divorced guys had this problem, where everything came back to the one topic. Steve’s not doing it pathologically, didn’t seem like, just genuinely realizing another change. Bucky looks stricken. He doesn’t always seem young, at newly 24, but sometimes it still shows.

Sam finally manages to catch his eye away from gazing at Steve to convey a quick head jerk of get-the-hell-over-there-and-do-the-job-I-pay-you-for, and Bucky peels himself away with an apologetic smile at Steve. Sam picks up the conversation with Steve as Bucky clears tables at top speed, hearing how he’s renting a place month-to-month not far away, not able to plan something more permanent just yet. He doesn’t say anything revealing, but it’s still easy to paint a picture of a small, empty apartment. Bucky’s not the only one with a soft spot for this guy, and Sam is warmed by the thought that his little bar offers him respite.

………………..

“That’s so sad,” moans Bucky a few days later. It’s just after opening on a weekday afternoon, and Bucky seemed quieter than usual so Sam is tantalizing him with what he learned talking to Steve the other day. “Did he say—you know he has kids?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam answers. He’d been as offhand as a person could be about that sort of thing, but it wasn’t hard to see how he really felt. He was standing in the rubble of a sincere loving marriage to a woman with whom he had two 11-year old twins. Helped explain his rectitude when it came from moving from his spot at the bar, meeting someone other than the staff. Bucky’s eyes are pools of sympathetic anguish and Sam feels the need to say, “This kinda stuff happens to people, Buck,” earning an eye-roll for his patronizing efforts. “It’s good he’s coming here, learning about himself. I think you help a lot, for the record.”

Bucky starts and gives him a bewildered look. “What?”

This is aging him. Sam sighs, “He’s lonely. Maybe feels kinda lost right now.”

Bucky’s mouth gets a pained downward slant to it.

“He. Likes. You.”

At that, of course, Bucky gets uncomfortable, blushing and moving off to wipe tables somewhere away from Sam, rubbing his nose and clearing his throat like he’s been doing since he got there. He brightens when Steve comes in an hour later, and Sam rolls his eyes and leaves them to their game of mouse-and-mouse.

Steve is telling Bucky... how window insulation works. He thinks he asked, he hopes to god he did, at least. He’s been embarrassing himself for weeks, coming to this place almost every day. He’s kept it pretty well under wraps that although he liked the neighborhood simplicity, and talking to Sam, and got comfortable after the first few visits, the real reason he’s there more evenings than not is to see Bucky. With his bright grey-blue eyes and dark hair hanging past his chin, swinging against his cheekbones, with his smile and wicked sense of humor and his confounding ease in himself, the ease that gives Steve despair and hope for himself. With that mouth and that divot in his chin, and those last two thoughts are not allowed, because the need to put his thumb into that dot in his sculpted chin and kiss those ridiculously pink lips is urgent and unthinkable.

He doesn’t do that, he just sits and pines and chats awkwardly with him, and gets to know a few other regular guys and talks sports with Sam. He just likes talking to Bucky, it’s easy, easy like nothing has been in a long time, and he’s a creep, he’s a pathetic older guy using his experience to take advantage of a younger guy—

Only, he’s not actually experienced here, at all. And Bucky is so smart, he’s self-deprecating about it but it’s not like he and Steve aren’t generally on the same level beyond his inner glossary of home improvement terminology. He downplays the fact that he knows cars like an expert, insists the stuff Steve learned from keeping up an old house and the hobbies he picked up to stay sane is somehow far more impressive— Steve’s pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose, to make him feel less adrift and clueless. He has that way about him, of someone who looks after other people without realizing it.

Things were all dark there for a while, with the end of his marriage to Peggy. But he’s pretty sure he and Bucky are friends, and he feels bright when he sees him.

Tonight, though, Bucky seems just a little worn down. He’s wearing a waffle-knit shirt under his incomprehensible-thorny-calligraphy-t-shirt, as though he’s cold, and his eyes are tired. Steve waits for a reply to the last thing he said and looks to see Bucky with a dazed, spaced-out expression, before he shakes his head and rubs his nose, saying “Sorry, I thought I was gonna sneeze, what’d you say?”

Talking about the goddamn weather and window insulation was segueing into a real conversation, to Steve’s delight: “How my mom moved us out to Jersey so we could live somewhere better and I never forgave her.” Bucky gives a wide-eyed grimace of agreement and he can’t help the bright laugh that bursts out of him. “How about you, you grow up in the city?” He’d inadvertently spilled his guts about the divorce on like his third time in the bar, something that humiliated him to think of but Sam had simply said with an understanding face wasn’t too unusual, so Bucky knew the basics about Peggy and the twins, but Steve had felt clumsy asking Bucky about himself.

He rolled his eyes with his problematically attractive crooked grin and answered, “Aw man, I grew up practically around the block from this place. Went to high school at the big catholic cinderblock in the neighborhood. I was at school on the west coast for a couple years, but…” His eyes cast downward. “now I’m back.”

Steve remembers how bad it felt at that age, to not have accomplished enough fast enough. Saying that will make him sound like an old grey dad and even if that’s what he is he can still hold out a little hope of being something different here, so he just says, “Brooklyn’s a good hometown to come back to.”

That makes Bucky smile at him and look him in the eye, like he liked what Steve said, even like it made him feel better. Steve tamps his answering grin down to reasonable levels.

Bucky’s also been rubbing at his nose on and off this whole time, and he can see it give a little twitch right before he breathes out a “scuse-me” through hitching breaths, his eyes flickering closed. He pushes his nose firmly into his long-sleeved elbow. “hhh-hh-tdschuh!” He sneezes quietly and muffled. “Oh, snf, sorry,” he says, blinking and emerging from his elbow but not lowering it, the hazy ticklish look still on his face, breaths hitching. “Another—hhh—‘nother one?” He freezes, looking up at the overhead lights, nostrils flared, but after a second he deflates with a sigh. “Nope, nevermind. Snff.” Steve’s guts swoop. This crush is so unsustainable. He’s gonna fail to be cool and friendly and he’ll have to watch Bucky go all uncomfortable and pitying as he explains to Steve that he has six hot boyfriends who are not almost-forty almost-virgin losers who only know how to take up his time when he’s trying to work. According to his therapist these “harangues of negativity” are “unhelpful.” But Bucky looks tired and a little pale and like his nose is going to start turning pink and Steve is just trying to survive.

“Bless you,” Steve says softly in his gentle voice that’s so deep it takes Bucky by surprise and makes his stomach flutter every time he talks to him. He feels like he might be blushing.

“Thanks,” it comes out husky and he clears his throat hard, moving to the little sink to wash his hands.

“Allergies, or…?” Steve ventures, a little divot between his eyebrows of concern-more-like-pity.

“I dunno, something’s bothering my nose today,” he says lightly with a shrug. In truth Bucky has a good idea what’s making him sneeze. The fucking radiator that was supposed to heat his cheap shitty basement apartment had stopped working in the middle of the night, so he’d spent six hours until dawn shivering, and an itchy tickly feeling had been growing in the back of his nose and throat since around noon. It’s starting to evolve into a runny nose and an ever-present but elusive feeling of being about to sneeze, and he knows that means he’s coming down with a cold.

He sees some convenient glasses to clear and excuses himself with a smile so he can sniffle out of Steve’s earshot; he’s enough of a mess compared to Steve on his best day, he doesn’t need to show off his scraggly urchin runny nose aesthetic of tonight any more than he has to.

For the next hour, these light, tickly sneezes either sneak up on him or abandon him at the last minute, leaving his nose feeling like it’s going to start getting stuffy.

Steve watches Bucky do his job, sniffling, rubbing his nose, and sneezing furtively into his sleeve or collar; tucking the strands of hair that have come loose from his short ponytail behind his ears, and feels so helplessly tender for him that it can’t be normal or healthy even by desperate crush standards.

Bucky’s coming down with a cold. He seems to want to brush it off, but Steve can hear a slight change in the resonance of his voice that gives it away even if the tired pink starting to border his eyes and nostrils doesn’t. The place is getting crowded and he’s busy; Steve feels for him, as well as pathetically jealous of his attention as he banters with him in passing once in a while.

He glances up as Bucky heads in his direction with a short stack of empty glasses and sees his steps slow; he pauses, blinks up at the overhead light, eyes hazy, and then, wavering, starts to turn his face into his shoulder, before pausing again and then sighing and sniffing as the sneeze evaporates. He looks up and sees Steve watching him like a creep and laughs, “Damn, lost her,” and then as he continues behind the bar, “You havin’ fun watching me look stupid?”

“It’s agony actually,” he responds, gets a laugh, and feels the now-somewhat-familiar internal squeal of this is flirting! I’m flirting with a guy and I think he can tell! It’s painfully pathetic, but he can’t help but track the fact that Bucky knows plenty of the folks that come to Sam’s, that he’ll give anyone his attention if they ask for it, smiling and joking, but the only person he really goes out of his way to talk to, initiates teasing with, is him, Steve. It’s still nothing more than polite obligatory chatting, he’s sure— when you work at a bar this kinda thing is natural. Bucky is young and charismatic and gorgeous. His love life would probably give Steve enough combined envy and jealousy to cause heart failure, which would be perfectly appropriate because he is an old square divorcee. It makes him warm and bubbly enough that he seems to be Bucky’s favorite customer to pass the time with.

A guy down the bar gets his beer from Sam and sidles closer. “This seat taken?” he asks with a good-humored cocked eyebrow. This is why Steve actually started coming to this place: to meet people, to meet guys, in a way that, well, went somewhere. To call his own decades-old bluff. Not to moon over staff half his age who woulda been out of his league even if he was still in his twenties. He turns to the guy—his age or a few years older, attractively lithe with muscle, a hard but handsome face, and smiles.

Bucky gets busy for a stretch— Sam’s place is actually full tonight thanks to the playoff game. He enjoys the feeling of being a genuinely necessary part of the bar’s operation, when some nights it’s hard to believe he’s more than Sam’s charity case. Nights like this remind him that he has a real job, he’s decent at it even with a bum left arm; whether he’s living out his dreams or not he’s an adult with a job, a place to live, and people he cares about. Plus it distracts him from feeling sorry for himself for coming down sick.

His satisfied feelings fade when he looks over to the Steve end of the bar and sees Brock Rumlow talking to him. He scowls. Fucking Rumlow. He only ever comes on nights with games these days, but Bucky would be perfectly happy if he never came in at all.

It’s fine. Steve’s fine. He is a grown-up, significantly more of one than Bucky. Of all the people who have no need of his misplaced ineffectual chivalry, Steve has got to be last in line.

Maybe he finds more stuff to do in the general area of that end of the bar, and maybe he’s listening for Rumlow to say something dickish, or maybe he’s just a masochist and he wants to know firsthand if they hit it off. Sam is trying to point his “Don’t-be-Stupid” face at him like a flashlight beam but he resolutely ignores it while he replaces a couple bottles that legitimately needed it, ok, just because they’re in a convenient place doesn’t make that untrue.

“Yeah, I’m glad I found this place,” he catches Steve’s cheerful voice. A wave of bar noise obscures their next words, and then he makes out Rumlow,

“—actual sports on the TV. ‘Course,” the smile is audible in his voice, “the clubby places are good for at least one reason, y’know?” He quiets down to say it but not enough. Steve wouldn’t particularly like that, Bucky guesses, and then grinds his teeth as his brain helpfully supplies him with the memories of how easily Brock had charmed him, months ago. It wasn’t any kind of nightmare, but it was still probably his least favorite hookup to date: he’d been so happily focused on Bucky at first, then rough and selfish in bed, capped off by an unnecessarily clear implication that he wouldn’t be calling. Bucky knew the score with casual sex, but it had still given him enough whiplash to sting; it crossed his mind a few days later that it had been like Rumlow wanted him to feel like a dumb kid.

Steve has sputtered something about “not sure he’s looking for anything like that” while Bucky fumed about the past. He has to grab beers for a couple guys, and bending to get in the lowboy fridge makes his nose run suddenly, and flush with an insistent tickle. He manages, just barely, to squash the sneeze completely into a silent mmp! into his shoulder, andmakes a getaway to the bathroom. He blows his nose, but it won’t stop tickling, so then he stands there like an idiot, holding paper towels like they’re a book he’s reading, staring up into the lights and waiting to coax the sneeze out.

He can feel it coming but it still takes forever. At least the bathroom is empty. He wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly and sniffs and his breath finally starts to catch.

“hehh...heh...heh—heh-Uhh....huhh. Fuck.” There’s no way it’s not happening though, his goddamn nose tickles so bad— “hhHAh—EHSsschhooo!” It’s a ridiculous cartoony sneeze but at least it’s satisfying. He blows his nose again, then sighs. He’s definitely sick. Gonna be great sleeping in a freezing apartment. Turning into kind of a shitty night, he thinks with sarcastic pep.

When he leaves the restroom he can’t help glancing over to where Steve sits, and sees he’s now frowning at whatever Rumlow’s saying, looking politely uncomfortable on the way to annoyed. As he drifts back into earshot he hears, “….fun, but, if you’re looking for more than, um, casual, I dunno, kind of a dead end.” Then his pulse jumps as Rumlow looks right at him and finishes, “not dating material, trust me. Either way,” he leans in, “I think you can do better.”

Bucky closes the distance but puts himself behind the bar so he doesn’t immediately clock the asshole. His fists are clenched. Can he throw him out? If he doesn’t get away from Steve and shut up Bucky’s gonna end up fired and charged with assault, probably, but he doesn’t know if he can throw someone out on the grounds of being a jerk that he hates. Thank God, Sam’s caught on that something is up.

Rumlow doesn’t seem to have won Steve over, in any case. He’s turned cold and hard in a way that makes him look unfamiliar, and he says quietly but very clearly, “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.” He sounds like a straight Army Captain contemptuously shattering an underling’s heart immediately post-office-suckjob or something; in the morass of anger and panic it still registers with Bucky’s dick to his utter bewilderment. It definitely triggers some core memory for Rumlow, who turns the color of old milk before flushing and standing. He takes in the sight of Bucky glowering behind Steve and barks an ugly laugh. “It’s like that, huh?” he asks, shaking his head in mock pity. “Good luck with that rescue mission.”

Bucky feels like he did when Hank Ackerman pantsed him in 8th grade. Everything’s too bright and clear. He wants to cover his face and run into the back, but he’s rooted to the spot by the thought that that’s just what the dumb baby slut Rumlow’s been making him out to be would do.

“That’s it man,” Sam comes up beside him, smile on his face as though he’s just casually joining their conversation. “You’re done. Get outta here.”

Rumlow scoffs, takes a step towards the door, then turns with the beginning of a macho intimidation-lean in Sam’s direction. He’s hammered, Bucky hadn’t realized, and he can usually tell with people. He’s...kind of fucking scary. Had he gotten rougher around the edges, or had he been like this when Bucky went home with him? Jesus Christ.

Sam just returns his stare, all semblance of friendliness gone from his face. “Get out.”

Rumlow glares another second, but then he goes. There’s a reason Sam’s successful running a bar in the middle of the still-managing-to-be-seedy part of Brooklyn, as well as his finely tuned sensibilities to the unmet needs of Brooklyn’s grownup queer folks. He has the air, recognizable to serious troublemakers, of someone who will absolutely meet and raise any escalation. There were, in fact, a taser and a gun behind the bar, but Sam had never had to use them.

Steve stands up sharply, like he’s—what, gonna follow? Bucky opens his mouth to protest, but then—“Steve.” Sam’s got the side bar entry folded up and he’s intercepting his angry stride. “Please don’t.” He goes on, too quiet for Bucky to make out. Steve deflates and sits back down, taking a long drink of beer and then frowning at his knees.

Bucky consciously lets go of his tension as he sees Rumlow’s silhouette, walking outside, disappear from the last window on the right. He feels shaky, the way any kind of confrontation leaves him, and embarrassed as hell. He avoids Steve’s eyes for all he’s worth, scrubbing a hand under his nose and sniffing sharply.

Steve was just a customer. Bucky was just one of many people that Steve made polite conversation with in the course of a day. Feeling like this was just a consequence of getting that confused. Because he’s an idiot. He has to sniffle again. He also feels about ten times sicker than he did a few minutes ago, and successfully blinking away the brief prickle in his eyes just turns it into the need to sneeze.

Steve tries to breathe smoothly and calm down. This frat-boy rage is ridiculous, he still wants to go punch the hell out of that fucking creep. He must be drunker than he realizes, although deep down he knows it has more to do with the inarticulate surge of protectiveness he’d felt for Bucky since the guy had gestured to him with a jerk of his head as he crossed the room.

He hears a shuddering gasp and sees Bucky duck down to crouch behind the bar. His concern flares way up, but then he hears the three muffled sneezes, all in a rush, “hhhMPtchsh—hmptsschoo—hptsshhuh,”. He straightens back up, sniffing hard, more wetly than he sounded earlier. He’s rubbing his nose and glaring at the door, not looking at Steve.

“Bucky,” he says, frowning, determined to get this across, “what that asshole said about you—”

“Steve, snff, it’s fine, just drop it, okay, I’m asking you,” he meets Steve’s eyes with a downcast expression, before it flickers as his breath catches, and he sneezes again, half-pinched down into the collar of his shirt, “ihh-dtsschuh!”

His nostrils keep quivering and he lets out a shaky sigh of frustration before ducking around the corner out of sight with his hands tented over his nose and sneezing, “hiih-hih-HIDtschoo!...hih-HIH-TISchoo! ..heehh...heh—HEH—” the last one deserts him and leaves him sniffling. They’re still pretty quiet, but a lot heavier and spraying than the first sneezes Steve heard earlier. Bucky blows his nose and washes his hands thoroughly, and when he’s back behind the bar his nose is decidedly pink.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky’s lips thin in exasperation— it’s not like him, compared to the guy Steve’s talked to the last few weeks. Whatever, he can’t help but say, “you do sound like you’re coming down with something, you should—”

“Steve, I’m fine,” says Bucky, in a soft tone that brooks no argument. Still tense, he turns to Steve with a crooked smile and says, “Really,” and it’s warm, if strained, between them again, and it seems like that’ll just have to satisfy Steve, and he says as much to Bucky who blushes and bites his lip for some reason.

Sam rescues Bucky by asking him to do inventory in back, letting him be sneeze and be dramatically in his feels without anyone around, especially Steve. The bar is slow enough now that he just shamelessly hides for the rest of the night. He’s constantly sniffling and sneezing and needing to blow his nose with the roll of rough brown paper towels back there, and even without that he’s too keyed up and pissed and miserable for human company, so it’s for the best.

He casts furtive recon glances to the bar where Steve sits, first craning his neck trying to spy Bucky, then brooding into his beer glass which makes Bucky feel like an asshole, then perking up at least a little shooting the shit with Sam, hopefully talking shit about Brock Dickface Rumlow. Then the misery wells up enough to get him to actually focus on work to avoid feeling it, and then it’s a few hours later and they’re closing up and he goes home to his little icebox and tires not to think about anything.

The next day, Sam chooses evil.

Steve and JB Barnes are both at least somewhat complex men, and it is always a bad idea to meddle in the affairs of others. But screw it, he’s had Bucky moaning in his ear for months now, and he was gonna have to recheck all his angry counting from last night, and these guys really seemed dumb enough to let the tension of mutual attraction strain between them until it just broke, some misunderstanding threw them both on the defensive or whatever, and they missed the chance at any of the fun part of connecting with each other.

So.

It isn’t a big surprise when Bucky calls him around 2, apologizing and pausing to make some gross “ihHgjshuhh!” noise, saying he was probably too sick with this cold to come in. What is a surprise, for poor Bucky, is Sam’s implacable response: “Duuude, I’m so sorry, but there’s some kinda convention in town and the place is packed, I need you here so bad, no matter what. You can take the next two days off, I’ll pay you.” He hears Bucky swallow back the what the hell and resignedly say ok. He feels diabolical. But hopefully it will be worth it. Steve usually comes in early on Thursdays, and he’d looked all hangdog-worried about Bucky the night before.

He’s been there twenty minutes already, chatting distractedly with Sam and staring at the TV screens but really looking all over the room like Bucky might be hiding somewhere. Bucky slouches in, ten minutes late, takes in the mostly empty room and gives Sam a betrayed glare.

“You really ndeeded mbe, huh,” he mutters as he puts his backpack away.

“You don’t even sound that bad,” Sam rejoins cheerfully, and Bucky’s mouth drops open with incredulity.

He moves some boxes around in back without issue. Then he tries to start prep by the bar. In a fifteen-minute period he has two sneezing fits that require him retreating to the bathroom to blow his nose endlessly and wash his hands. Sam decides that’s plenty sufficient. He and his customers are gonna pay a price in germ exposure for this stupid ass cupid skit he’s putting on.

“Steve, you believe this guy?” Bucky’s been avoiding Steve’s concerned hopeful looks since he got here. “He insisted on coming to work.” Bucky chokes in outrage, then coughs for real, while Steve moves a few seats closer. Sam turns; Bucky couldn’t look more betrayed if there was a knife with Sam’s name on it in his guts. Lord deliver him from dramatic white boys. “Did you take the bus here, Buck?” There was no other way for the guy to get to work, but he just replies flatly,

“Yeah.”

“You oughtta go home and rest.”

“Le me give you a ride, Buck,” Steve jumps in with the Air-Bud eagerness Sam had expected. They confirm it and bustle Barnes into a Civic while he’s sneezing too much to protest. Sam washes his hands metaphorically of the situation, and also very literally and thoroughly.

Steve’s car is a little old, and cold, and dusty. Bucky shivers as he buckles his seatbelt. He feels silently nervous and thrilled to be in Steve’s Car!!, but at the moment it’s hard to be anything but….sneezy…

“hhh-hh-hhmmPtchuh! S-s-sor-ry-hiihHIptchsh!” Holding them back when he feels like this just makes his nose more irritated and thus even sneezier. He stubbornly jams his fist under his nose to quell the tickle. He has some napkins from work, so a nose-blow is possible, but it doesn’t feel possible, not so close to Steve, who has it a million times more together than Bucky even on days when he isn’t falling apart on a cellular level.

“Bless you,” Steve says quietly. He looks at him reflexively, to see a small, sweet, sympathetic smile. “Ready?” Bucky gives a little nod and the car pulls out into the slushy road.

His nose is running onto his finger, it’s a crisis. This is why it’s always a terrible idea to leave the house when you’re really sick. “Ugh, I gotta blow mby ndose, I’mb sorry, I’mb so gross right ndow,” talking also makes his nose angry. Fucking Sam and his supervillain plan to humiliate him. What had he done to deserve this? He fumbles for the napkins with his less-dextrous left hand, the one he should have stuck under his nose, goddamnit, he’s gonna sneeze again…

“Psh, don’t worry about it,” scoffs Steve like the big huge dad he is, then with a sympathetic glance he turns the radio on, to the classic rock station, because of course, Bucky almost laughs even while racing to get tissues on his face before this giant wet sneeze overcomes him. The music is loud and it does help him feel less embarrassed.

“heh—HEH-KSSSHOOoo!” he gets the wad of napkins in front of him just in time. Blowing his nose after that demolishes them, but he feels a little closer to a human being.

“Bless you!” Steve chuckles. “Man you got a good bug, jeez!”

Why are he and Sam both so cheerful. “Thanks, I’mb glad you’re impressed,” he croaks.

“You have cold stuff at home?” Huh? When Bucky doesn’t answer he continues, “Tissues, tea, soup, medicine, you know?”

“Oh, umb, sorry, I’m tired,” Steve makes a sympathetic sound. “I usually just use toilet paper. I took the last of my Dayquil before work. I dunno if it even helped, all it feels like it did is mbake me jittery and sdeezy.”

“Why don’t we stop by a drugstore.” He sounded decisive.

“Oh, you don’t have to bother with that, really Steve—” he pauses to sniffle desperately. Technically he can afford a couple things, and he probably needs them. “Or—you could drop me off and I’ll get myself home from the store, that would totally be a big help—”

“Is the heat even on in your place?” Steve interrupts, shrewd-eyed. At Bucky’s wide-eyed sputtering response he continues, “I knew it. I used to be a broke Brooklyn kid, once upon a time. Only reason to come into work, am I right? Can’t believe landlords are still getting away with this shit.”

Bucky considers denial, then slumps. “S’why I’mb so much...hhh...worse...hh-huh-hudschuh! Snff-snff. Worse today. They said it’ll be fixed by tomorrow so...we’ll see, ha. I got a space heater and an electric kettle though, I can get in my blankets and drink tea and I’m fine.”

Steve is quiet, no response, and Bucky worries irrationally that he pissed him off. A few minutes of classic rock later, he pulls into the small parking lot attached to the drugstore, turns the car off, and turns to him, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Bucky I—” he breaks off and laughs to himself. “I know you have to be polite to customers, I don’t want to—” he makes eye contact, looking pained and rueful. “I’d like to think we’re friends. But I don’t want to put you on the spot or anything,”

“We’re friends,” Bucky interrupts gently. Steve’s face brightens like a sunrise and Bucky’s chest does a nice warm thing.

“Yeah? That’s...I’m real happy to hear it.” Steve says, sheepish but grinning. Then his eyes get the determined look that Bucky is starting to think means trouble. “Well the reason I asked is, as a friend, I really hate the idea of you trying to ride this out in an icebox apartment. I have heat. And a couch!” He hastens to add at whatever wide-eyed look Bucky’s giving him. “It’s just, I know it’s no fun being sick by yourself, and, well, honestly I wish I’d socked that asshole at the bar last night, and I really wish I’d clocked him as a jerk faster, and I’d feel a lot better if I could do something nice for you, and you really seem like you could do with some rest and medicine. Will you let me grab some stuff here and spend the night at my place—where there’s heat— and let me fuss over you?”

“Steve, that’s—that’s so nice, but I really can’t imb—snff—impose on you, and I gotta be so contagious right now…”

“I don’t care about that,” Steve says easily. “And I know you’re not gonna die on your own, but,” and, whoa, he’s deploying some kind of dignified mature version of puppy-dog eyes, it’s so sincere, and also so certain, that it starts to seem like the only sensible course of action is to let his gorgeous crush take him to his apartment while he’s the polar opposite of sexy, an unspeakable snot factory, and also possibly starting to run a fever.

….His apartment is gonna be so goddamn cold.

And lonely, incidentally.

And Steve is so nice. He’s literally, actually here, he seems to mean it that he wants to take care of Bucky’s sick bedraggled ass as some kind of friend-favor. There’s no way this is a come-on with him in this state, even if he can still muster enough energy to wish it was. No way Steve’s ever gonna want to fuck him after watching him snuffle through 200 tissues and mouth-breathe all evening, but he was nuts to think he ever would anyhow. He’s just that nice, and Bucky is that pathetic, and that might not feel great, but he wants to be Steve’s friend, he really does, and even through his own shyness he can see that the guy is pretty lonely.

“You, umb. You really don’t have to.” He says, watching Steve, who waits with obvious hopefulness. “But. Uh.” Steve raises his eyebrows and gives him a little smile, and Bucky finds himself returning it helplessly. “If you really don’t mbind. It could, potentially, be really ndice to take you up on that. You really don’t have to though!”

“I want to, though.” Jesus, he’s so sincere. Bucky feels some weird kind of protective way about the earnest honesty in his eyes.

“Well, then, okay. Thangk you, I really appreciate it.” He laughs, finally feeling how miserable it would have been to go back home and try to sleep in a cold blanket pile on his mattress on the floor. “Mby place sucks right now.”

“Alright then,” Steve beams. “Let’s get you a couple things and then get you cozy.”

Bucky’s nose is not okay with him using his face to talk instead of constantly blow it. It’s gotten completely blocked, and it’s tingling unpleasantly, and running so bad again he has to smush his knuckles under his nostrils. The tickle crests and his breath catches before he can do anything about it, but he clenches his jaw and forces it into a stifle. “hhh-huh-MMP!!” The problem with doing that is it just makes the tickle— “hh-mMP!” worse. “Ugh, sorry.” His hand is a dam against his nose at this point.

“Bless you!” They both step out of the car, but Steve hurries over to his side with a crinkle in his brow. “Why don’t you just stay here and I’ll grab a few things. Anything in particular, or just tissues and NyQuil?”

“Dyquil is just schndapps,” Bucky grumbles, then his brain catches up a little and he says “tissues,” fervently, and then it catches all the way up and he says “wait, ndo way are you buyig!”

Steve cocks an eyebrow like a handsome jerk. “You really wanna go in there?” With your current nose situation? He’s kind enough to not say.

He casts about for a moment—“Grab me a little pack and then I’ll go in!”

Steve gives him a skeptical look and says “Sure,” in a way that makes him think his orders won’t be followed, but he’s too busy squishing his nose more firmly and silently begging it not to make him sneeze again to keep arguing, or to protest when Steve opens the door for him and puts his car keys in his hand before dashing into the store with a promise to be quick.

He’s back not even ten minutes later, by which time holding his nose plugged and not letting his sneezes out has put Bucky in a state of perma-misery, stifling relentless sneezes every few seconds, unable to keep his eyes fully open. Steve tosses a box of tissues onto his lap before he gets all the way into the car because he is a saint.

“Guh,” Bucky says gratefully, pulls out a wad of about ten, and lets the miserable sneeze that had been building out into the nest of forgiving softness. “HehgSHOOmpff!!” And then blows his nose forever. Finally he feels like he can speak and have a face again; the little drugstore bag is now home to a dozen nasty used-tissue balls. “Well,” he says as he puts the last one in there, “wish I hadn’t had a witness for that.”

Steve just chuckles. “You’re fine,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing rumble. “I grabbed you a toothbrush, and I’ve got some stuff that can fit you for pjs.”

Bucky feels like he sneezed out the last of his strength. “You’re way too nice.” He sniffles and slumps against the window, looking at the familiar blur of orange streetlight. “I should be more worried you’re a serial killer.” Steve chuckles again, and he likes that, so he goes on, “Probly got a nice Jeffrey Dahmer setup at your place. Sorry if I don’t make a good steak.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Steve replies, sounding indignant. Then laughs for real, shaking his head, “I’m not gonna chop you up and eat you, I swear.”

“It’s fine. Just mbake mbe into soup,” sighs Bucky. That would be warm. He’ll just be a big hot pot of Bucky, and Steve will stir him and season him so carefully with his big strong hands. This is a weird train of thought. He might have a fever. But he can still hear Steve chuckling.

Steve pulls into his parking spot and the car shudders to stillness as he takes his key out of the ignition. Next to him, Bucky is asleep with his head mushed against the window. He’d conked out for the last five or so minutes of the drive. “Hey, Buck, we just got to my place,” he says softly, trying not to sound too bedroom-y. His eyes flutter open, the blue of them standing out, and Steve takes a steadying breath because Bucky is so good-looking it catches him off guard and overwhelms him sometimes.

His eyes are glassy-bright and there’s a flush high on his cheekbones, and as he shifts upright in his seat Steve reaches over and touches his forehead without thinking about it. It’s noticeably hot, but not burning. The twins’ childhood bouts with the flu gave him a sense of bad-fever heat. “Think you got a temperature,” he murmurs sympathetically. Bucky just blinks up at him, a little wide-eyed, and only then does he realize his big meaty hand is practically covering half his face. He feels himself flush to match Bucky, and for a second they just look at each other.

Until Bucky sniffs a miserable liquid sniffle and they both almost jump. “Sorry,” Steve mutters awkwardly, and Bucky’s saying the same thing at the same time. They both move to get out, “Just one flight of stairs up.”

“huh—tschumpf!” is Bucky’s answer, his nose buried in a new handful of tissues. “huhh, hUH—huh.” The second sneeze fizzles, leaving him blinking and frowning and wrinkling his nose snifflishly against the ticklish haze as he shuts the door. “Fuck. Sorry, scuse mbe.”

“Bless you.” It’s probably not normal to find someone so sick so adorable.

Steve leads him up and along the hall and then he’s unlocking the door, feeling giddy that he’s letting Bucky into his apartment, and then guilty for being excited, when the poor guy is just hesitantly accepting a much-needed favor. Bucky trails in behind him and then stands still while Steve sets the bag from the drugstore and started to turn to him, saying, “It’s not much, but—”

“ASHHOO!” Bucky’s sneeze interrupts and snaps him forward into his tissues, and then he just stays folded over for a second like it sapped the last of his energy. Then he straightens, rubbing his nose into the tissues and sighing. “Jesus, sorry,”

“Bless you! You don’t have to be sorry, you’ve just got a cold.” Steve has to hold himself still to keep from rubbing his back.

“You’re...hh-huh….? Snfff, ugh. Totally gonna catch this, I owe you way mbore apologies.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” he chuckles, toeing his shoes off. Bucky follows suit and he continues, “I stopped caring after raising toddlers, they’re little germ factories, you catch everything.” Why’d you bring up your old-dad status, Steve? “I’ll grab you some things to sleep in.”

An hour and one confrontation about Steve giving up his bed later, Bucky is ensconced on his couch like the king of cold-medicine commercials, surrounded by blankets and pillows and tissues and steaming cups and bowls. He feels a little more human, which is nice, but lets him access how incandescently awkward he feels at being rescued from his idiotic life like a snotty Cinderella. Steve has been flitting back and forth between the couch and kitchen, fussing over him to a truly excessive degree while exuding satisfaction and cheer, like some kind of calendar-model Santa with a caretaking kink. He was practically rubbing his hands together at the prospect of getting Bucky blankets and tea on his couch. Now he’s giving a rundown of his TV system standing next to the couch and it feels the tiniest bit manic and Bucky can feel himself getting a little too quiet but he can’t help it. After a minute Steve notices, and sets the remote down.

“I should stop babbling at you and leave you in peace,” he says with a bashful chuckle, turning to leave the room.

“No, I— you don’t—” Bucky doesn’t really have a response beyond ‘please chill out and hang out with me and let me picture cuddling with you,’ which will not be said aloud.

“You really don’t hafta feel like you need to entertain me, Bucky.”

“It’s not, I don’t,” he sighs and then sniffles. He doesn’t want to sit here and stare at the wall and stress about this, alone in this room in Steve’s goddamn apartment. He maybe should have thought about just how much he’d fallen for Steve before taking him up on this offer, because the concern and sweetness and fussing are starting to ratchet up his anxiety, because what if there was a chance it meant—

“Is anything the matter?” Steve crouches smoothly to be on his level and torment him with his eyes’ blueness. When all Bucky can do for a moment is flounder he looks more concerned, and a little downcast. “I really don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. If anything’s bothering you, you can just tell me.”

What the hell is an ordinary sinner supposed to do in the face of this much sincerity? Act like he thinks he’s a damn grownup, Bucky guesses, and girds his nervous loser loins.

“Why’re you—” he starts, frowning, then cuts himself off and tries again with a small, apologetic smile.

“It’s just...this is such an imposition, and you seem...kinda weirdly happy about it? I just don’t get why.”

One side of Steve’s mouth quirks up, making him look dry and self-deprecating and unfairly handsome. “You’re worried I’m gonna start talkin about Scientology, or put you in my basement dungeon?”

Bucky shrugs. “Kinda.” Just ‘cause he went home with strangers didn’t mean he had no sense.

Steve seems to cast about for an explanation, and he also starts to turn pink. “It’s—you’re just so—” and then he sighs and sits on the end of the couch, next to his blanketed feet, addressing his words to the wall in a rush. “Honestly, Bucky? I have a huge crush on you, and,” he laughs in embarrassment, decidedly blushing now, “I’m just real happy to have a chance to take care of you in whatever little way.” Now he does turn to look at him, pained. “I’m sorry, that must be so uncomfortable to hear. I promise you’re not my hostage! Please don’t make a break for it, it’s cold out and you’re so sick. I swear I’m not Cathy Bates in Misery.”

“Y—hihdsschuh!” The sneeze catches him by surprise, but he has wadded-up tissues in his hand already anyhow. He has to blow his nose, and he does it thoroughly to buy time. Steve stares stoically at the ceiling as though waiting for sentencing. Is this seriously Steve telling Bucky...he likes him?

“You…” he stops, sniffs. He needs a plan. He doesn’t have one. His mouth is gonna keep moving anyway, “You said, ‘you’re just so—‘, what were you gonna say?”

Steve looks confused for a second, and then just helpless. “Bucky, you’re just so sweet. I’m happy for a chance to do something for you because I owe you, you get that, right?”

“Owe me?” Bucky asks, nonplussed. Steve laughs with what seems like disbelief at his confusion.

“Yes, Buck! For the last few months! For taking pity on me that first night I came into Sam’s. You asked me a question about antifreeze.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs. His world is rearranging itself. Steve remembered that?

“I feel—real self-conscious, I guess, coming into the “scene,” he gives it air-quotes and Bucky’s heart swells a little more, “by the route I have. Y’know, married dad who woke up one day and realized the stuff he repressed at sixteen might be the real him. Sam’s was the third place I tried to go into. I just felt so ridiculous, I still do— 39-year-old brand-new gay dude, it’s idiotic. I was practically gonna have a panic attack, I was definitely gonna leave and not try again and just...stop trying in general, maybe, to figure this new scary shit out. Except you were there, this—this smokin-hot guy, and you’re acting like you actually want to talk to me, and… so I stayed. And came back.” He looks Bucky in the eyes and it makes Bucky’s stomach clench. “I feel like you’ve been taking care of me this whole time, helping me ease into things, helping me not to feel bad about being completely uncool, asking me about stuff I actually know about instead of laughing at me because I’ve never heard of ‘poppers’,”

At that, Bucky has to give in to the giggle bubbling out of him, which inevitably leads to a short coughing fit. His first instinct is to keep laughing, rake Steve over the coals, but Steve is looking at him with a careful sort of expression, and it occurs to Bucky that just because he’s older and seems like he has it all together and has great posture doesn’t mean he’s immune to feeling vulnerable. And he looks like he’s feeling really fucking vulnerable right now. Acting like Bucky is worthy of this adorable schoolboy crush is absurd, but it’s not like it was so many eons ago that little baby Bucky Barnes was having his First Gay Bar experience, and he’d been scared as shit.

He already feels like he missed the boat on his life. Steve is starting over at 39. He’s so fucking brave. Bucky...somehow, unthinkably, Bucky is in a position where he could really hurt this guy.

“I’mb, umb. Snfff. Thing is, I’m a little surprised…” And Steve must think that’s the prelude to rejection because he pulls this sad little smile onto his face that’s the worst thing Bucky’s ever seen, and he has to make it go away, “It’s just, to hear you tell it I took pity on you and I’ve been talking to you to, like, guide you along and coach you because I’m some saint!” He smiles, starting to feel amused. “Steve— I just wanted some reason to talk to you, dude.”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

He has to laugh, putting his forehead in his hand. “Sorry. I, just, I have not been operating under the assumption that I had a chance with you? And now it sounds like you’re telling me I do? While I sit on your couch filling your trash can with my disgusting tissue mountain?”

All he gets from the man is “...Huh?”

“You said ‘crush’,” he insists, and he’s not laughing, his heart is pounding actually. “What did you mean by that?” He’s gonna awkwardly say that he wants to fuck, and once that box is checked in his Gay Awakening, he’ll move on to actually date people actually in his league, and that’s maybe not gonna feel great, but, well…

Steve looks up from staring at his hands, makes eye contact, and he looks a little confused and a lot like he’s facing a firing squad. “I meant, I mean that…” he blows a breath out. “Jesus I have no idea what I’m doing. I mean that I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out on a date, since pretty much the first night I met you.”

Bucky’s head does a record scratch and Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, “But I guess instead I kidnapped you when you were sick and blurted this out to you while you were trapped on my couch waiting to be left alone to sleep. I was never smooth but I swear I’ve done better than this.”

A giddy feeling is rising up in Bucky’s chest, making him forget completely about how tired and crappy he feels. “Well, I am smooth,” he says, “I’ve got game. At least, I did, until you showed up and turned me into a giggling bimbo. What the hell, Steve.”

“This is starting to seem like a romantic conversation but I can’t tell,” murmurs Steve with his face still uncertain but a little twinkle in his eye.

Bucky’s nose is gonna ruin this, he’s surprised it gave him that long a grace period. “Yeah, snfff, real romantic, I’mb gonna—hih—fuckin’ sndeeze—heh-heTShoo! Againd.”

Another sneeze teases out, and then he has to blow his nose for about ten years. “Bless you,” says Steve all quiet and bedroomy in his deep voice, and he’s definitely smiling, sparkle-eyes, leaning towards him the tiniest bit, but still looking like Bucky’s leaving him hanging a little, unsure, and he can’t help the wave of doubt he feels.

“Steve, you—” he stares at the blanket on his lap. “I’m a mess. You’ve accomplished shit, you have a real goddamn job, I—I’m just, ok, we’re both adults, but I feel like a screw-up kid compared to you.” He takes a deep breath and says what he doesn’t want to, “I’d be...pretty damn flattered if you wanted to hook up. I kinda can’t imagine you actually want to date me.”

He dares to look up and Steve looks more serious. He doesn’t say, “no shit.” He says, “I won’t argue if you say you don’t want anything, but I sure don’t agree with how you describe yourself. I don’t want to hook up—at least, not just that— I want to date you, get to know each other better, because I like you. I trust my judgement, when I think someone’s a good person.”

He says it so simply, and Bucky finds himself believing it despite himself, and a warm happy fire is kindling under his ribs. “Well, shit,” he murmurs, “it’s starting to seem like you’re asking me out.”

“It’s...starting to seem like you might be saying yes? If I am?” Steve looks agonized and Bucky’s doubts are no match for the giddiness fizzing up inside him, and he lets it show on his face with a grin, and whatever that looks like makes Steve kinda gulp and scootch up closer to him. Bucky makes a show of giving a slow, considering nod. Yes.

Steve has this soft, nervous little smile on his face, but his eyes hold something weighty, almost burning, as he moves even closer, and it’s just, it’s really, wow, Bucky has maybe never been taken seriously in quite this way by anyone before, it makes his knees feel watery and kindles something in his core. “I know you’re sick,” he rumbles, “but I feel like I gotta kiss you,” and how is it that the softer he speaks the deeper his voice sounds? He brushes his curled fingers over Bucky’s cheek because that’s how close they are now and this isn’t really Bucky’s life, is it? “What if I was to kiss you, right now?”

It’s hard to tell with the sexiness melting his brain but he realizes Steve is actually asking, because he’s a gentleman— a gentleman Bucky wants to be taken apart and turned inside out by. “Then you would be a guaranteed victim of my plague,” he breathes. “But I wouldn’t stop you, I’m not that selfless.”

“Sounds like a dare,” Steve murmurs, and tilts his head and presses their lips together.

It’s a short simple kiss but they each give a quiet gasp at the contact, and then stay there a moment. Steve’s beard isn’t huge but he feels it, like a firm underline to the shockingly warm plush pressure of his lips. He thankfully tragically remembers that congested people can’t make out and pulls away after just a brief press of lips, but not before giving a soft lick to Bucky’s, full of promised things to come.

They sit there a few inches apart and breathe. Bucky feels like a vibrating tuning fork. He just barely stops himself from shakily saying “wow,” like a highschool virgin, but when he sees Steve looking at him with lips still parted and a gobsmacked expression he changes his mind and lets it out anyway, “wow,” with a giddy grin.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, blinking like he got hit with a cartoon hammer, going from pink to red, and then he swoops in and kisses Bucky’s cheek, and then stands, going, “Excuse me, just gotta go...out of your sightline, and. Do something cool. And serious. No victory dances.”

…..the next morning…….

Steve could hear Bucky in the shower, sneezing three times, but not sounding—four times—nearly as heavy or exhausted as the night before. A few minutes and one loud noseblow later, he came out wrapped in a towel, mercilessly bare-chested, his nose bright red but his eyes clear and cheerful. Steve’s attention caught on his chest as his nipples tightened in the relative chill as Bucky said sheepishly, “forgot my clo-hothes—” his voice swooping to a breathy quaver on the last word, “hhh-hh-hehh—EHisSHOooh!” he turned as far away from Steve’s part of the room as possible and sneezed over his shoulder. “Snnfff. Excuse me, sorry.”

“Can I lend you some warmer stuff, just for now while we eat breakfast? There’s no way you’re not still sick,” Steve fussed, forcing himself to round the kitchen island slowly and casually instead of rushing over and wrapping him up in his arms and kissing his red nose that was twitching again. He quelled it with another sniff that sounded a lot less congested than the previous night.

“Ah, I’m ok. I felt really bad yesterday, but I slept so well,” he said with a warm grateful smile at Steve that went to his toes, “I don’t feel shitty and run-down anymore, just all, like, shnuffly.”

Steve chuckled helplessly and went over to rub his shoulder. “You’re adorable.”

“No way!” Bucky glowered, but then a few drops fell from his wet hair to his chest and neck, and he shivered into a sneeze so quick and light it sounded incomplete, “hih—tish!” followed by “ih-hihtchoo!” and he blinked, taken by surprise.

“That was... the cutest thing that ever happened,” Steve said truthfully.

“Shuddup— heh—edschoo!”

[angelkhi]

hi! i loved your fic about abby so much! really one of the best I've ever read <3

can you write hcs about abby and how supportive she would be with her girlfriend being a volleyball player? like.. help her before an important game, the sexual tension when they argue after reader lost a-and all

thank you for everything!

i hope i did this justice! thank you so much for the ask and the kind words!! <3

prefacing this by saying my knowledge of volleyball (and most sports in general) are ranked somewhere between -0 and 0%. (i’m a formula 1 girlie i like cars going zoom)

this is generally sfw but it gets a bit smutty as per (minors do not interact i know where you live i’ll make your parents take your phone away😡).

pregame!abby who gives you snacks and water, feeding you information on the other team (which you’re sure is not allowed).

pregame!abby making you a playlist to hype you up, sneaking silly songs in there to make you de-stress a little.

pregame!abby sitting you on her lap, hyping you up in front of your teammates, whispering in your ear how good she’s gonna fuck you if you win.

wholesome pregame!abby who kisses you on the forehead, who tells you “go get em baby” before every game. (she can’t resist swatting your ass as you leave).

pregame!abby getting all handsy with you, riling you up before the game so you can take it out on the other team.

pregame!abby letting you re-braid her hair when you get all nervous and fidgety before a game.

game day!abby who wears your gets mouthy with the ref over every tiny incident, standing off to the side arms crossed.

game day!abby who cheers louder than anyone else, shouting “that’s my girl” every time you score.

game day!abby trash talking the other team, pretending it’s someone else when the ref looks her way (she’s on her final warning).

game day!abby giving you pep talks between sets, making sure you rehydrate, reassuring you when your team is down a few points.

postgame!abby letting you sit silently in the passenger seat, hand on your thigh. after a loss she knows you’re disappointed in yourself even though it was a team effort, but she also knows coming at you glass half full will just piss you off.

postgame!abby doing little things, running you a bath, stocking up on your favourite snacks, ordering your favourite takeout, putting on your favourite movie even though she thinks it’s dumb.

postgame!abby who’s been waiting for you to snap, knowing that at some point all of that self depreciation and anger is gonna come pouring out.

postgame!abby knowing that you’re not angry at her, nor do you mean to take it out on her but she’ll take it if it makes you feel better.

postgame!abby refusing to touch you until you fix your attitude, making your moods even worse. it’s a game of cat and mouse, who will cave first? (she knows it’s you)

postgame!abby doing everything she can to get under your skin, lingering touches only to deny you later on, sitting you on her lap lips tracing your neck, fingers skirting along your hips until you reach a breaking point, then nothing.

postgame!abby finally having enough of your bratty behaviour, pinning you down against the plush sofa, completely overpowering you, crowding you with her scent and her touch not giving you what you want until you ask her.

postgame!abby who definitely edges her pretty girl until she’s quite literally on her knees begging for it, and then overstimulating you until you’re a blubbering mess. she’s so in tune with you, she knows it’s exactly what you need to release that tension. to finally talk instead of pushing her away.

postgame!abby who praises the shit out of you. yeah you both get off on it, but right now she’s all about rebuilding your self esteem and a little bit (a lot) of praise never hurt anybody.

postgame!abby with the sweetest aftercare, bathing you, wrapping you up in the comforter, hydrating you, feeding you, letting you talk. telling you how proud she is no matter if you win or lose.

just sweet abby and her volleyball girl <333

[beezusvreeland]

Santi's journal (Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader)

I was planning on publishing a fic about Santiago on Valentine's Day, but didn't have time to finish. Since I like what I wrote so far, I decided to share with all of you :)

summary: After the break up, Santiago is advised to write a journal to deal with his feelings, an exercise that brings back memories and, maybe, a new hope for your relationship.

ship: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader

genre: Angst, possible second chance romance, Santi sometimes being sweet and, others, a bitch.

words: 1,7k

taglist (if you'd like to be added, just let me know in the comments): @wreckmyimage @steven-grants-world @lizispunkk @torntaltos @nervousmumbling @littleshadow17

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You’ll never read this. I’ll make sure of it. It boils my blood the fact that I can see the face you’d make, you would tell me writing in a journal is so unlike me. Of course you’re right, you’re always fucking right. I wouldn’t be doing this if Will hadn’t made me. He showed up at 7 fucking am at my mother’s house and you know she fucking loves him, a prince charming, if she has ever seen one. Fucking prick keeps smirking at me because I know he is far from it. After eating like a fucking king, he tossed me this goddamn notebook and a pen and said something how I should stop pouring my feelings on alcohol, hilarious since he was drinking as much as me last night, and find another way to express emotions or whatever. He is still here, watching me like a fucking hawk while I pretend I’m taking this shit seriously. 

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Being back at my parents�� house is fun for like two days, after that it’s just depressing. I’m sleeping in my bed in my room and it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. If my conscience wasn’t guilty already, I would have broken the promise I made to Ironhead and driven my ass straight to the bar. I would keep getting a hangover, but at least I would sleep better.

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I was cleaning the car just now and found one of your earrings. That one that’s a small golden hoop, you wear it all the time. You’re probably looking for it, maybe I should give it to Frankie or Benny to return it to you. It’s funny, you always said that you felt sort of naked without earrings. It was one of these things you would repeat every once in a while, I’ve always liked that. Felt like a confirmation that even if you changed, you were still you.

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Things got complicated after we broke up. I wonder if you feel it too, our friends forming teams for each of us. I don’t like that. And I know you don’t either. I went to Fish’s to give him your earring, feeling safe ‘cause you know, it’s fucking Fish, mi hermano. But Sarah was home and was the one who opened the door. Let’s just say she’s very much on your team. She made sure I knew that with all the screaming in spanish and the dishes being thrown my way. I hid in my car until Frankie came home. Me, an army veteran. That’s how pathetic my life has been, princesa. 

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Can’t sleep again. Think I got too used to having you by my side. Also, this bed is very small, I don’t know how I was able to sleep here. I think you would like to know that now I’m the one doing my own laundry and the cleaning. Ma made it clear that her casa no es un hotel. I heard her telling mis tias that the only baby she wants to take care of is a grandchild and that I ruined her chances of having one. 

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Met a girl at the bar last night. We made small talk for a while, until she asked me if something was wrong because I kept looking at the door every time someone walked in. I told her I thought I saw a friend, but the truth is I realized that my body has an automatic response to the sound of the bar door opening. I turned every time hoping it would be you walking in, but it never was.

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I saw on the news that the old movie theater downton is going to be demolished and turned into a parking garage. Not gonna lie, it made me so fucking sad to think about it and to wonder how you might react to this news. We were always there when we were kids. It was where we talked for the first time. You think it was at school, but it wasn’t. All I wanted was an electric guitar just like James Hetfield’s and my parents said absolutely fucking not when I asked them for it, so I started working there on weekends. Sundays were always boring, only a handful of people showed up in the mornings and time just wouldn’t go by.

And then one day you showed up at the concession stand, hair down in one of those headbands you loved so much, I wasn’t prepared, thought I was going to have a heart attack at the age of 16. You recognized me from homeroom, knew my name and all. I was such a fucking simp, always trying to sit next to you. I thought you would never even look in my direction and then you were there at the theater, trying to make some small talk while I got you popcorn. I spent the rest of the day over the moon that we had talked and terrified I had blown it by being so nervous and barely saying anything to you. In homeroom on monday, you turned to me with a shy smile and said hi. That’s all it took. You had me…and still do.

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The nightmares are back. You know, the ones with the sounds of shots being fired, all the blood and the bodies. I’m terrified that one day I’ll start recognizing them. Of one of them becoming you. I almost called your number, dialed it and everything. Then I remembered that, according to you, the only acceptable excuses for waking you up in the middle of the night were if the house was on fire or if someone was dying. And I just didn’t want to give you yet another reason to be mad at me.

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I’m pissed off right now. Frankie had the audacity of taking me out of town to help him pick up some table Sarah bought online and next thing I know, he starts to reprimand me for what happened. Some bullshit about not giving up on what I loved, especially not you.

No matter how much we argued, he still missed my point. You were the one that had doubts. The one that didn’t want to commit. You said you wanted to, so why won’t you?

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I went back to the bar today. Fuck, I really needed a drink after that disaster with Frankie and the arguments with my mother, who won’t shut up about Miss Celia next door becoming a grandmother to twins and how she is thinking of giving her some of my baby clothes. Ma wanted them to go to her grandchildren, our children. We can’t have a conversation that doesn’t involve this topic. I just can’t do anything right.

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It’s not just the clothes she keeps, you know. Ma also has several scrapbooks with moments I didn’t even remember. There was one just for prom, with pictures at my house, in front of the limo, others where I look very sweaty and probably stoned. I spent years going back to that memory. It’s one of my biggest regrets, not taking you to prom. I put myself in a situation I didn’t know how to get out of.

The night we kissed for the first time, in my car parked in front of the movie theater, blew my mind. Before that, I thought you’d never date me, so I started dating other girls. I had hooked up with Paloma Gomez a few times when she let me know we would go to the prom together. I said yes. I was such a shit little idiot, fuelled by hormones and teenage angst. I hadn’t learned yet that having sex with someone doesn’t mean you are in love with them, how meaningless it could be. It didn’t matter how much I tried, no amount of it could ever compare to talking to you on the phone late at night, trading secrets and whispers about everything and nothing.

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Got a consulting job at a firm. It’s freelance for now, but you know, it gives me something to do and a reason to leave the house every day. The people at the office are fine, there aren’t that many demands at this time of the year and one of the ladies from the other floor brings a cake every friday. This week’s was lemon flavored with a cream filling I know you would love.

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Benny convinced me to try out the gym he is working at and it wasn’t bad. I thought he worked at the counter or something, but he is a personal trainer. A good one, if you ask me — don’t fucking tell him.

Ben made me lift some weights and run for a bit. Tried talking to him about the fight, I actually meant to ask how you have been, but once again the words escaped me and our conversation took a turn to who’s right and who’s wrong. He said if I wanted you back, I should understand what went wrong to make it right. It was weird, not gonna lie, all the riddles and shit. For a moment there, I felt like I was the kid and he was the adult for once.

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A few days after we kissed, you showed up at the theater again, remember? You seemed nervous for once, holding a dark green box that you put on the counter. You were even wearing a dress I hadn’t seen before, the one that made you look like Wednesday Addams. It seemed you even had a bit of makeup on.

You broke the awkwardness between us asking me to open the box. Inside there were five cupcakes with inscriptions on them: P R O M ? When I looked back at you, you had your hands behind your back and were shifting your weight, a smile on your face. Telling you that I already had a date and confirming I was dating that girl was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in life — and I’ve hidden in a cave full of corpses before, you know it.

I became desperate, tried telling you it wasn’t serious, that maybe I could cancel with her to go with you. And you said that would be cruel to both of you, then left.

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author's note: I have and idea for a part two. Let me know if you're interested? And if you like what you read, please reblog and leave a comment, it means the world to us writers to be able to interact with our readers.

masterlist

[zealofchronos]

Hiii!! Today marks the eventful return of Bones Anon. The last thing you wrote for me was absolutely fucking fantastic I still keep going back to read it!!

I see you've been writing a lot of genshin lately but I've never played that game so I am going back to Pokemon.

I want to steal Raihan's big hoodie so fucking bad. I just think it would be so comfy. I know I can buy one irl but I'm a broke bitch™ and it's usually too hot to justify wearing a sweater where I live.

So, if you're willing to write it, perhaps a nice little fic of Raihan discovering his bf enjoys snatching his hoodie? And deciding that he is very willing to go without his signature hoodie just to let him wear it.

Bonus points for fluffy shenanigans w/ Raihan teasing the reader and the reader snarking right back?? Just two smug bastards being smug to eachother (affectionately)

Bonus bonus points if reader is also tall as fuck and the hoodie actually fits them, because I see a whole lot of short reader and I want more rep for my lanky ass!! /j

Anyways thank u in advance I think ur cool as fuck

- 🦴

wahoo !! hello hello, bones anon ! ♡♡

truth be told, i already wrote this a long time ago, a while after i first saw it, but my uploading motivation went down the drain >< i've mostly been lurking on tumblr a lot and reading loads of things, but today i am here to do this ask justice by sifting in my docs and pouring out what you've asked for!

never steal from a dragon, but i'll do it anyway! ;; raihan x male reader

contents ;- fluff , sfw , established romantic relationship , tall reader ! , playful banter , please do not leave the stove unattended while cooking ^^;

proofread by @elvenxwarrior , who made sure the fic was "sufficiently british" ! ♡

Galar was peaceful these days to say the least, with Eternatus being captured and a new champion rising to the throne, there’s a lot that has changed. But it was still all the same, with beautiful days to be lived out, and a multitude of things to do. Be it befriend the Pokemon that were in the wild, or find incredible treasures on a long lasting journey. Or, perhaps, run a gym in a big city.

Morning sun rose over the streets of Hammerlocke, a beautiful city with a brilliant feel. All visitors would marvel at the architecture, from the middle aged stone walls to the historical lineage behind it. But in every city, there are homes- and today, we zoom in on a cosy little den- yours!

After much contemplation, you’ve decided to make a home in this city, for one very obvious reason.

Golden rays peeked through the blinds, day barely beginning but you’re already begging for a few more minutes in. It seems someone could agree, soft snores coming from none other than the city’s gym leader himself- Raihan, who laid next to you. His arms loosely wrapped around your body, holding you close as you could only suffer in silence, succumbing to his comforting grip paired with his almost ridiculous sleeping habits.

Perhaps it was because he dealt with dragons, or because he was always busy with something- be it training, or working out. Maybe he’s tired himself out to the point of dropping dead asleep the moment his head hits the pillow every night, or he’s swallowed too much sand in those sandstorms he conjured up in the stadium ( his mouth was always open, never shut even during those moments- it’s a wonder how he hasn’t gotten any in his lungs by now )… Or perhaps it’s only around you that he finds a moment of peace to just let go of all of his worries and simply enjoy the moment.

You weren’t exactly doing anything- you were merely just another trainer, but you were lucky enough to snatch away the heart of this untamed dragon. Perhaps, you could say that was the first thing you ever stole from him. Because you weren’t about to stop now!

Thanks to Raihan being such a deep sleeper, you easily slipped out of his hold. It was a lazy day today- the gym didn’t have to be open, but it probably wouldn’t stop your energetic boyfriend from rushing over there as soon as he got the chance. So, you decided to take it slow for now, because if it came down to it, you could definitely convince him to just relax for the day.

First matter of the day was simply getting ready, heading straight to the bathroom to take care of yourself. Morning bed hair? Fixed with a quick combing through. Smelly breath? Gone with a simple brush. Clothes?

…Clothes always proved to be the most difficult thing of the morning. What exactly would you wear today? The Hammerlocke City Gym Leader seemed to rub off on you, now taking into account what you’d wear for the day more often than not. Right now, you just stood there in your pyjamas- and that should change really quickly. But what would you wear after?

Returning to your currently shared bedroom, you glanced around as though a new sight might help jog up those brain cells to work a bit better. Well, there was the bare back of your boyfriend, a blanket barely covering him up as he found a pillow to replace your missing warmth. He had such defined muscles, yet you weren’t here to gawk. But the sight alone gave you what you thought was a brilliant idea. Your eyes scanned the room a little further, catching sight of the familiar piece of clothing on the floor of your room.

Raihan’s hoodie.

Oh, this was perhaps his own treasure that nobody has ever seen him without. Well, nobody but you of course. But now it was time for it to be stolen away- It feels just like that one series you saw before, where a group of thieves steal away one’s treasure to change their hearts! But you’re not here to change his heart of course, you’d prefer if his heart stayed yours, as yours remained his.

You spared the sleeping Raihan one last glance before smirking, immediately putting on the nice hoodie after tossing your pyjama shirt off. It fit quite nicely around you, but that was merely because you were just shy of the gym leader’s height. It was a blessing, really, because it meant you didn’t have to get on your tiptoes just to kiss him, or he didn’t have to bend down to an atrociously low level just to meet your eyes. Then again, it’s not like he isn’t used to crouching down- I mean, you’ve seen his battle stance, whenever he gets a little heated in the middle of a match. It’s a little hot, you could say, but since when is he not?

Now, it was time to carry on with your day, singing praises for your beloved boyfriend could come later!

Next came breakfast, and what better breakfast than… well, a big one? It was common for you and your boyfriend to eat your fill. After all, he needed all the energy to get through his day, and to start it all with a nice boost was great! Thankfully, your fridge was stocked with all sorts of things that you both liked, but it seemed today, the flour in your cabinets and eggs in your fridge called for you- the decision was made in your head, it’s time to make waffles! And as if that wasn’t enough, you pulled out the sausages from the freezer, and a few other things to make a not-so-lazy-but-still-kinda-lazy breakfast. At this point, could you even call it that? Oh, who gives a damn.

“ ‘tuuun…” The low rumble of a certain Pokemon sounded from below you, a beloved Appletun- your beloved Appletun, actually. It seems that she finally woke up from her own slumber, coming to check out what you were doing. Fortunately, you had just placed the kettle to brew, or else you might’ve tripped over the poor thing. Having a moment to spare, you decided to give her a little treat, and of course some much deserved pets before continuing to cook away some good breakfast.

It wasn’t until much later when a bunch of delightful smells filled your house did you hear a loud yawn from your room. It was quite obvious who it was, and you could only roll your eyes at how late he woke up. But it’s no matter, you would much prefer it this way, after all. Not long after, you finally heard his footsteps, and it was nice that he decided to actually get up and see you. You could only laugh to yourself over that, looking after a few things in the pan to make sure they didn’t burn.

“Hey, babe, have you seen my hood… ie,” that familiar voice slowly died down as he stepped right into the open space, eyes widening the best they can whilst still somewhat groggy and in much need of some more time with you. “...Stealin’ from me, ay?” A shirtless Raihan questioned, snorting a little as his eyes scanned you up and down. This was quite the unusual sight for him, but it… wasn’t unwelcome at all.

“Yer’ callin’ me a thief? I think you should check who left it lyin’ on my floor,” Your soft laughter filled the air, leaving the stove for a moment to get the hot water into a mug with a tea bag. “Tell ya’ what, I’ll trade you a cup of tea for it, eh, ehhh?” Doing your best to sound convincing, you held out the nice mug of tea to him. It was your favourite mug at that, actually, and you would never use it to serve anyone else. By your right mind, this was a mighty fine trade!

“I dunno… You still took it from me, y’know,” Raihan’s gaze sharpened momentarily, deciding that if anything, he might as well try. I mean, he’s done that a lot, trying despite many fruitless attempts. By many, you could say exactly ten.

“And I’m offerin’ something to you in return! Fair’s fair.”

“No ‘s not.”

“Yes it is.”

It was now a somewhat endless back and forth, both of you repeating the same thing as neither of you wanted to give up. Was it tiring? Not at all. You could do this all day with him. Actually, you probably did this everyday with him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. After a moment of contemplation, you finally decided to up the deal to something he can’t refuse…

“Fine, a nice cuppa’ aaand… a kiss from yours truly..~” You hummed, wiggling your eyebrows as though that was the best deal you could ever possibly give him. And truth be told, it was. You don’t think there was ever a day that his lips didn’t touch yours, except for the days before you started dating. It was the perfect pick up for him, maybe even better than a cup of tea alone.

“Hmm, you have yourself a convincing trade offer, babe,” Raihan crossed his arms as you slowly approached with your favourite mug in hand. That sweet smile on your face was something he wanted to wipe off, but only in one specific way.

“So? Made up yer’ mind or am I keeping my lips to myself?” You questioned almost impatiently, a hand on your hip as you set the mug down on the countertop nearby. Before you knew it, he had his arms around your waist, coming up oh so close to you.

With his eyes slowly fluttering shut, Raihan leaned in. He’s memorised everything, from how long it takes to get his lips to yours, to how to fit his arms around you.

“Takin’ my kiss first,” He proclaimed right before dipping his head down a little, his lips meeting yours. It was sweet and tender, just like any other time. Sure, he was wild and maybe a little reckless at times, but when you were in his arms, he found a way to let himself soften up a bit. He loved you to bits, after all.

Your arms wound around him in return, savouring the lovely morning you were having. It was a great day already, especially with the delicious view you were having. Soon your hands wandered a little, and you could feel him chuckle against your lips.

“Hands off the merchandise,” his eyes fluttered open with a soft laugh, followed by a mischievous snicker of your own when he swatted away your hands. “Greedy lil’ bugger,” He added, but you both knew that you were his greedy lil’ bugger.

“Oh, you know you love it,” You rolled your eyes, laughter definitely a bit too loud for the morning, but you couldn’t care less.

Raihan grabbed his tea, pretty much gulping it down despite the lack of sugar in it. It was already a bit cold, so there’d be no use in putting in any anyway. “I love it just as much as I like you in that, y’know,” the gym leader commented, eyes sweeping up and down your figure once again in the most obvious manner. He just really wanted you to know that he was checking you out, because goddamn, he’s wondering why he didn’t lend you any of his spare hoodies before this. “Guess I can go without the hoodie for the day.”

“Oh, for real?” Almost amused, you had to just make sure. Raihan simply nodded again, coming up to sneak an arm around your waist once more as he pressed his lips to your head and–

Click!

“Oi–?!” The sound of the shutter going off meant only one thing. Your head turned, whipping around to see Raihan’s Rotom phone flying behind you as it just took a picture. That sneaky lil-

“Aaand posted!” The gym leader chuckled as he dove in once more, pressing another quick kiss to your cheek. “And that’s another two kisses I stole from you, heh,” He snickered away, quietly shutting off any notifications from the post he just uploaded. He’ll deal with people questioning that he’s not single later, when he’s done messing with his lovable boyfriend.

“What the ‘ell!?” You weren’t mad at all, really, but you were really bewildered by the fact that he just did that. You expected many things, but that was not one of them.

“Ha! Look at yer’ face right now..!” He laughed a little more, before pulling out something that his silly brain could come up with. “Don’t be mad now, darling,” he paused, the nickname that he calls you when he likes to tease slipping past his lips. “Just wanted to show the world that I’m not on the market, y’know. Because someone stole my hoodie and… my heart.”

Oh, well, there was another thing you didn’t expect. Sure, you two had your playful little fights every now and then, but Raihan never failed to be smooth when he needed to be, and it always left you a little speechless.

“I… you… wh–”

But before you could actually get any words out, an annoying beep resounded from over the stove. You turned over to check and…

Shit.

Well, there goes breakfast.

Now you had to scramble over and salvage what you can, and being a wee bit of a useless bugger himself, Raihan simply stood there and laughed it off. Oh, he’ll see who’s laughing when you decide to ‘‘steal’’ from him again.

[ravennaortiz]

i need to know more about The Nanny fic <333 i will be happy with anything u can say ab it

Hello Sweet Anon!

Thank you so much for asking about The Nanny! I honestly cannot believe how well that moodboard wip for it has taken off! Please accept my humble offerings below that include things I'm still trying to figure out, background info on Clays Daughter and a little snippet from the story.

A couple things I am still trying to think of /plan as I write the story.

I am trying to decide if I want Clays Daughter to be an OC or to be just reader insert clays daughter- I try to make sure my reader inserts are as neutral as they can be so I'm a bit worried needing to be more descriptive of what she looks like will be a turn off to readers

Am I releasing it as one big fic, multiple parts or make it chapters?

Who exactly is the guy: Just because I am who I am lol originally I was thinking Juice buttttt then I was like it should be someone outside of the club like a Mayan, cop etc.

About Clays Daughter: She does not have a great relationship with her dad at all. She has a lot of anger and resentment for how he treated her mom ( crow eater) and that only grows as he puts more and more rules on her. Her and Gemma never saw eye to eye and she hates her and is part of the reason she jumps at Taras offer to be a Nanny because she knows her not being able to see the kids hurts Gemma.

Now the thing is....she doesn't really like Tara either. You see Tara ratted to Clay and Jax about seeing her with a guy they would not approve of. Clays daughter felt deeply betrayed because she had always told Tara when Jax was sleeping around etc and thought of her as an older sister and looked up to her.

Now shes hell bent on revenge for a series of betrayals and the goal of being at the head of SAMCROS table being the last one wearing a crown.

Jax knew he should look away but he couldn't. His eyes were glued to your ass as you poured yourself a glass of wine. The underwear you had on leaving nothing to the imagination. "Want some?" you asked with a smirk as you turned to face him. Jaxs icy blue eyes snapped to yours before dipping down. He swallowed hard as he realized the cropped sweater also left nothing to the imagination as his eyes stayed glued to your nipples that poked through the fabric.

"Go get some pants on" snapped Jax as you started to walk towards him. Rubbing his face he turned and made his way quickly to his bedroom shutting the door. His heart racing and breathing heavy as the sight of you stayed in his minds eye. Glancing at the bed he saw Tara was already out cold. Fuck he thought as his hand moved down to his jeans were his cock throbbed painfully against the fabric.

[radiowallet]

Eyes Open - Chapter One

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Amy Oliver (ofc) Summary: As the leader of the Heroics, Marcus Moreno always seems to get stuck with the worst of the legislative duties, including dealing with the local police stations. The station secretary, Amy Oliver, quickly steps in, finding subtle and not-so-subtle ways to get Marcus the information he needs. WC: 2.5K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, talk of police work, slow burn, yearning, idiots friends to lovers, financial stressors, second chance romance, workplace romance (sort of), older love interest, eventually explicit.

Series Masterlist II Main Masterlist II Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Cross-Posted to AO3

>>> Chapter Two

A/N: Hello friends! It's been a very very very long time since I've posted a fic and needless to say, your girl is nervous. I've been hard at work on book prep and promotion, and in between all of that I have been plucking away at this story. I really wanted to write something fun and easy and self-indulgent. Thank you to everyone for reading!

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

----

Marcus is tired. The kind of tired that builds slowly, the feeling cresting higher and higher until it’s pulsing behind his eyes. The kind of tired that leaves him irritable and anxious, and ready to take it out on anyone or anything. His head is pounding, his body aching from the physical exertion of standing his ground for far too long. It had been what felt like hours of runaround from the chief of police; a semi-regular occurrence that he had grown far too accustomed to. The room was stuffy, the blinds pulled closed and the door shut tight, locking them in with the stale air and cigarette smoke. He fights the urge to tug at his tie, refusing to give the bullheaded ass sitting across from him the satisfaction.

Being leader of the Heroics came with quite a few headaches but the bureaucratic anxieties that came along with dealing with the local law enforcement was one of the biggest thorns in his side. 

“Sir, the Heroics have always done our best to keep the lines of communication with your precinct open. But in order to achieve that, you’ll have to meet us in the middle.”

Chief Baldwin chuckles, the sound demeaning in more ways than one. He leans back in his chair, his heels making a heavy thud as they hit his desk. “As in break protocol? Skirt the rules? Allow vigilantes free reign in my precinct and my city?” 

“I don’t see how my asking for a few unredacted case files is–”

“Forget it, Moreno!” He grins, making a show of picking up the very file Marcus had asked for. “You can go through the proper legal channels and you’ll take what I give you. Now get the hell out of my sight.” 

Marcus turns where he stands and storms out, making sure to slam the door as hard as he can, the bland, generic art hanging on the wall rattling on impact. For a moment he doesn’t move, chest heaving and fists clenching, wishing he had something (or someone) to take this simmering rage out on. Just as he’s about to start walking again, intent on completing his righteous tantrum with a moniker of dignity, a soothing voice hits his ear with the smallest of peace offerings. 

“Coffee?”

He turns to see Baldwin’s secretary staring at him from her desk, a stack of paper sitting in front of her, her pen poised above a signature line. His frown shifts, the tension melting from his shoulders as his head jerks out a nod and he falls into the seat beside her desk, the chair squeaking beneath the weight of him. 

She doesn’t say anything else, instead gripping his shoulder once before standing and stepping away. He watches her from the corner of his eye, her movements precise as she pours him a cup of dark liquid. She tears open two sugars, adding them along with a splash of cream before finally setting the navy blue mug down in front of him. She pours her own, a chipped white mug with a worn-away police badge on the front, and returns to her seat, turning her quiet gaze in Marcus’s direction. 

“You can say it,” she prompts, brown eyes watching him over the rim of her mug, the slightest hint of a smile curling along the corner of her lips.

“Your boss is a jerk.”

She doesn’t respond, but her smile shifts just a smidge wider. She takes a generous sip, humming as if she actually enjoys the taste of it. She sets her coffee to the side, and pushes up the sleeves of her cream-colored blouse, turning back to her stack of papers with renewed intent, jotting something down across the top of the page.

“The two of you have been doing this dance for years now. I’d think you’d be used to it.”

Marcus grumbles into his own coffee, refusing to respond, knowing full well how good of a point she’s making. Amy Oliver has, after all, had a front row seat to every argument between the Heroic and the chief of police from day one. She knew the pattern just as well as Marcus did, and after every instance of door slamming and name calling she was always there to help in her own way. She was one of the few people in the building who brought a smile to his face and he found that even when he knew there would be trouble, Marcus always looked forward to sitting at her desk and sipping her terrible coffee. 

“Might be time to just end these little visits. Not like they get me anywhere.”

“Don’t joke,” she gasps, her over the top pout more than comical. “What would I do for entertainment around here without the two of you having your little pissing matches? My job?”

He rolls his eyes, but her smile is contagious, and before he can stop himself, he’s hiding his own behind his mug. 

“Perish the thought.”

“The audacity,” she murmurs mostly to herself, checking another box with a bit too much flourish, her ponytail swinging from the effort. “How was your weekend? Did Missy end up going out with what’s his name? The one who’s death you’ve been daydreaming about?”

Marcus feels his smile slip at the change in topic, but Amy doesn’t miss a single beat. “She did! I love this! How did Marcus Moreno, leader of the Heroics, handle his baby girl going out on a date?” 

“I’ll have you know I handled it great.”

The admission seems to finally have her full attention. She drops her pen and leans forward on her elbows, the tips of her fingers just grazing the tops of his thighs. 

“Define ‘great’?” 

Marcus swallows hard, ignoring the heat swirling deep in his belly, even as he feels himself lean, just barely, into her phantom touch. Amy, for her part, takes his silence in stride, reading between the lines of everything he doesn’t say.

“Let me guess? Sharpening those silly swords at the kitchen table when he came to pick her up? A stern reminder of curfew while also demonstrating superhuman strength? A text or two under the guise of ‘checking in’?”

He barks out a laugh at how keen her eye really is. “Alright, you got me! I may have leaned a little hard into the protective dad thing.”

“And I bet Missy was still home by curfew.”

“A few minutes early, actually. Not sure why I worry so much.”

Her hand is on his knee before he even has a chance to register the feeling, another comforting squeeze, there and gone faster than he can pull air into his lungs. “Because you’re a dad.”

He coughs and takes another sip of coffee, an action meant only to help slow his racing heart, and leans further back in his chair.

“How was your weekend?”

“Oh, big Saturday night. My mom sent Harris Candy Land. So, naturally we had to play it 5,000 times in a row.”

Marcus feels his chest fill with a different kind of warmth, picturing Amy and her 7 year old daughter going toe to toe over the same board game he and Missy would play night after night. She could downplay it all she wanted, but he knows that when given the chance to spend quality time with her daughter, Amy would play as many repetitive games as there were stars in the sky. 

“You wouldn’t believe how many times she beat me, Marcus! I swear! This weekend I’m pulling out Monolopy and letting her taste my wrath.”

“Big words,” he teases, admiring the way her cheeks heat up beneath his own gentle ribbing.

When their snickers finally start to subside Marcus moves to refill both their mugs while Amy continues to work. She thanks him, easily splitting her focus in a way he’s always been jealous of. She checks a few more boxes and signs one paper after another, all the while never letting her bright eyes and impish grin stray from his attention. She doesn’t falter, even in the throes of her gentle teasing, and Marcus wishes he could spend the rest of his day sitting across from her.

And then, as if she can read his mind, “Can you stay for lunch today?”

“No,” he sighs, hating the taste of the word more than the shit Amy calls coffee. “I have to get back. The rest of the team will be waiting for me.” He takes one final sip of coffee before standing, knocking his fist against her desk in lieu of goodbye. 

“Okay, well, can you toss these files in the shredder for me on the way out the door? I have to get a presentation set up for a briefing, and I’m already behind.”

“Of course,” Marcus agrees, accepting the stack of papers that she had been carefully chipping away at since he walked in this morning.  

“Thanks, handsome,” Amy quips, turning back to the computer screen, the click of her mouse following him as he goes. When he gets to the shredder he stops and tosses one single piece of paper away, taking care to fold the rest in half before sliding them into the breast pocket of his jacket. Once outside, he walks quickly to his car, only stopping briefly to send a quick text.

M: Thank you 

A: For what?

She always was a pro at playing dumb.

It would have been easy to mistake Amy as a wallflower, her eyes always pointed down, her lips seemingly sealed tight, fetching coffee and filing paperwork with zero complaints. She knew the precinct better than anyone, and though every cop in the building would rather die than admit it, she was the reason that place made any difference.

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a secretary was underestimated. 

But it wasn’t long before she proved that very notion wrong, finding Marcus after his very first argument with Baldwin, pushing a crumpled piece of paper into his hand along with a crappy cup of station coffee. When he smoothed it open later that day, it was to find a list of suspects, hastily scribbled in Amy’s beautifully looped cursive. 

Neither of them mentioned it again, but the tips kept coming, subtle and not so subtle alike. Case files meant for the shredder that never made it, heavy boxes carried to the evidence locker under the guise of a favor, and one hilarious time when a phone number had been penciled into five down on a Monday morning crossword puzzle. Each one had helped him avoid the legislative tape wrapped securely around police work, and Marcus was eternally grateful for all she did to help him and the other Heroics. 

Even if he couldn’t tell a single soul.

M: Next time I’m around, lunch is on me.

Marcus tries not to think about how it’ll probably be a few weeks before he shows his face around the precinct again, especially considering the confidential information he had just been handed. It always felt prudent to keep a low profile after these run-ins with Baldwin. He picks up his pace, anxious to get back to Heroics headquarters and begin parsing through the case report tucked out of sight, his detective skills already thrumming to life with the potential of new puzzle pieces.

It’s another helpful distraction from the lingering memory of her comforting grip around his shoulder, the hint of her smile over the rim of a chipped coffee mug, the teasing lilt of sweet adorations that he knows don’t mean a thing.

-------------

Amy takes care to keep her eyes forward, watching Marcus over the top of her computer monitor, only catching a glimpse of his hands as he tosses away some of the pieces of paper she had handed him, and pocketing the rest. The transition is seamless, and she can’t help but swell with pride as the Heroic disappears completely from view, the front door of the precinct swinging shut behind him.

Her concentration is broken by another stack of papers hitting the corner of her desk. From the sound of the dull thud it gives, she already knows the rest of her afternoon is now spoken for. But, she reasons, at least it should help the hours tick by just a little bit faster. 

“I swear. That Moreno. He just doesn’t know when to call it quits.”

She casts an eye over her shoulder at her boss, refusing to feel any sort of shame for being caught staring. It was hardly the first time she had let her eyes linger on the width of his shoulders or the cut of his jaw, unable to deny how handsome the man is. She was only human after all.

Today had been just like any other, Marcus’s righteous fury boiling away to reveal his tender heart, joking along with her as he slowly relaxed back into himself. Amy could feel the heat making a home in her cheeks, unable to look away from his plush lips as they formed around a laugh or the stretch of his skin as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. But for all her stolen glances and coy flirting, she knew she could never bear to ask for more, not willing to risk the precious friendship they’d built together over the years. 

“You could try playing ball with the Heroics every once and a while.”

“He’s a bleeding heart, Oliver. Walking around with superpowers and worrying about petty police business. Best not to get too hung up on him.”

A bleeding heart is one way to put it. 

A good man is another. 

A rare find in a world full of men and women alike who were anything but. Amy had had her fair share of experience with those, Harris’s dad the best example she could conjure up. But it hardly mattered. He was gone and she and Harris were better off for it. 

And if given the choice she’d gladly take Marcus’s bleeding heart over the man who walked out when there were two lines on the stick instead of one. 

Derek stares down at her, dark eyes nearly piercing where they pin her in place. For the briefest of moments, white hot panic slices through her heart and she worries he’d seen the case report Marcus had slipped out of sight. But then he’s turning away, reaching for the coffee pot that lives behind her desk, pouring the last dregs of dark liquid into his cup. 

“But we’re all on the same side. Right? Derek?”

Amy watches the older man for a minute longer, doing her best to listen to the steady beat of his silence for any lingering secrets. But Derek Baldwin has always been best at keeping things close to the vest, and his true feelings towards the Heroics were no exception. He taps two fingers on the stack of papers, his movement firm, his orders concise. 

“Finish these up and then you can head out for the night.”

“Sir?”

“Take the afternoon. See your kid. You’ve earned it.”

Amy can’t help but smirk, ducking her head and pulling the papers close, anxious to finish up and head home. 

If only he knew the whole truth. 

Earned it doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

------------

>>> Chapter Two

A/N: All my love and thanks go out to @jazzelsaur who has listened to me talk about these two (and silly book stuff) basically non-stop. Really, truly, I can't believe I get to call you my friend. How is that possible????

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Sickness Excuse

Pairings: Weems x Thornhill x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.2K

Summary: You used the excuse you were sick one too many times with Principle weems so what happens now your actually sick and can't leave class?

TW: Vomit (I think that’s it idk)

A/n do I ever write fics without someone throwing up?

PART 2

It was the middle of outcast history, the most boring of all your classes and you still were feeling awful. Your stomach had been unsettled for what felt like far too long. It would knot and then go loose before tying itself up again. With each knot the nausea would build but weems already had her eye on you for the amount of history classes you had skipped, and you were running out of excuses. You knew if you skipped and got caught you were in for it. Especially when you used the sick excuse last week and you had no proof of actually being sick. No fever. Yet. Just that uncomfortable pain in your stomach.

The teacher was an old wolf named Terrbine Fleetsted who honestly looked like he was napping and based off the way his little white musta he was moving with the slow rise and fall of his chest you looked to be right. Trying to be as subtle as possible you rested your head on the desk somehow feeling worse. Enid was sat next to you pretending to be working but really, she was writing down some gossip for her blog she had heard in the quad on the way to class. She was rambling about something, and you had honestly stopped listening or paying attention. Your eyes were closed which was probably why when she jabbed you with her pen you jumped a mile.

“Jesus tap dancing Christ enid!” You almost yelled and enid shot you an odd look.

“Dude, have you listened to anything I’ve been saying?” She said with a fake huff. You knew she wasn’t mad the way her eyebrows were twitching she was merely concerned.

“‘M fine ‘nid” you mumbled going to rest your head back on your arm.

“You don’t look too great, maybe you should go lie down.”

“Gee thanks. And i can't weems would probably go dark ages on my ass and burn me at the stake if i miss anymore of this boring ass class.” You said into your elbow.

“Weems can’t be mad for you being sick?” She said sounding confused.

“She won’t believe me. Used the old sickness excuse one too many times.”

“What excuse?” Enid said and before you could answer your stomach knotted painfully and you knew you were going to be sick. Spit pooled in your mouth and you knew exactly what was coming. You jumped up from your chair drawing eyes around the room, yet the teacher stayed asleep. Like a bullet you shot from the room and raced through the halls. Sprinting into the nearest bathroom you could find you dropped to your knees and locked the door before pouring out the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Had you been further than a mere inch from death (as you put it) you may have noticed Enid’s panting breathing coming from behind the door. She knocked rapidly and you barely made out the sound of her yelling something.

“Y/N LET ME IN RIGHT NOW.” She yelled and after a minute you heard nothing. Maybe she gave up? After the small reprieve you rested your back against the stall hearing the door open again. Dammit who was it this time. You heard the distinct clicking of heels and you automatically straightened your spine. Your stomach however revolted at this action and sent you pitching forward into the porcelain again. You gagged and tears stung your eyes as you brought up more of your stomach acid. It burned and you hated every last second of it.

“Honey whats going on in there? can you let us in please?” A voice asked which you faintly recognised as Ms Thornhill. What was she doing here? You simply whimpered and then heard the heels again and watched exhaustedly as the lock on the door turned from the outside. Two faces peered into the stall, and you simply looked at them and blinked, too tired for words. Principle weems and Ms Thornhill stood looking at you for a second before Thornhill quickly came over to you. She gently grabbed your cheek and laid her other hand on your brow to check for a fever.

“Darling are you ok? What prompted this?” Weems asked from where she was observing at the door. Enid had seemingly gone back to class, and you mentally thanked her for not seeing you like this.

You simply sighed and lent over to flush the toilet.

“Honey did you throw up?” Thornhill asked and you nodded weakly.

“Oh darling.” Weems said softly. “Why didn’t you leave class earlier.” She said and you shrugged not wanting to admit you felt you couldn’t. The principle frowned and you closed your eyes and rested your head against the wall.

“Bring her to my office, the nurse went home sick and i have some training in this kind of thing.” Principle weems said and Ms Thornhill nodded. The head mistress swapped spots with Ms Thornhill inside the stall, and she gently scooped you up from the ground and into her arms. You weakly rested your head against her collar bone and closed your eyes.

“Do you feel you may be sick again?” Principle weems asked and sighed softly as she felt you nod into her neck. She motioned for Ms Thornhill to follow, and she grabbed the small black bin from under the sink before trailing after the principle out of the bathroom. You thanked the high heavens nobody saw you being carried like a baby by your principle through the halls but overall, you were too exhausted to care.

You must have been dozing lightly because you felt weems adjusted you and open the door to her office and soon you were being gently lowered to the couch. Ms Thornhill set down the bin beside the bed which was luckily empty. Weems tucked a blanket around you and slipped a thermometer under your tongue. You were too tired to protest and simply hummed and closed your eyes.

You felt a hand brushing the hair from your eyes and back away from your face.

“Ms L/n how do you feel now?” Weems asked and you nodded which was met with a chuckle.

“Honey that doesn’t tell me much.” The principle said and Ms Thornhill smiled sadly down at you. You let out a low dejected hum and Weems frowned.

“Bad huh?” She said and you nodded again, and she removed the thermometer.

“101.2 did you eat something odd?” She asked frowning at the stick.

“No i don’t think so. Just…”

“Just what?” Ms Thornhill prompted.

“Just a coffee from the weathervane and something from the new bakery in Jericho. I dunno it tasted slightly odd I guess.” You mumbled and the principle looked at you sadly.

“Oh darling.” She said. “I’ll be sure to follow up on that. But right now, get some rest and I’ll wake you up a bit later for some medicine when you’ve settled some more.” She said and gently drew circles on your stomach. You hummed in agreement and shuffled around a bit to get comfy which made both teacher's chuckle. Once you had deemed yourself safe and comfy enough to fall asleep your breathing evened out and you knew you would be well looked after.

MASTERLIST

[lunarriviera]

on the importance of beta screaming

i would like to say a little bit here in this chili’s tonight about the vital, indispensible role of beta enthusiasm.

because yeah we all know we get tied in knots in our prose, write sex scenes with impossible numbers of hands, dangle modifiers, repeat words, commit horrifying typos like “he licks with his tounge.” i have several useless graduate degrees so yes i can fix all those things for you or offer revision suggestions. as well, i am a north american who lived in the uk and divorced a londoner, so i can also britpick or yankpick your fic. then, it’s important to have at least one beta who can check you if you’re writing about a culture other than your own. finally, i usually will only beta for fic with whose canon i am intimately familiar.

those things are helpful, even essential. but there is something else a beta reader not only can do, but has to do, and that is scream.

look it’s hard out here for a pimp okay. we are in our little offices or bedrooms or hunched on the bathroom floor with the phone just trying to write our little stories. we made a tiny gay man and we gave him problems, and now we are going to make it YOUR problem. and then we will all thrash around and yell happily together, for we love this tiny gay man.

but until someone picks that fic out of the tag and clicks on it and reads it and starts keysmashing in the comment box, you’re all alone. just you, in your head, in your room, while you’re walking around the park, while you’re shampooing your hair, while you’re cleaning the cat’s litter pan—it’s just you. (and, sure, also the imaginary friends who spout riveting or hilarious dialogue in your head. them too.)

and when you’re all alone with just your words and your little people, a terrible and completely unique kind of loneliness can sink in. were they the right words? were they funny, pretty, tragic, joyful, smart? do they truly convey the depth of your feeling? and above all else: can they compel someone else to feel what you felt? because you’ve read that fic that made you scream into a pillow at 2 am. and you wonder: can i do that for someone else? can i feel my feelings so strongly and so well that they reach out of the screen and haul someone else in along with them?

and in the hours, days, weeks of waiting for someone to reach back through the pixels for you, a beta steps in to fill that space. this, she will let you know, is good. this is REALLY good. this is so good she’s gonna dword. she has no chill. she is about to mclose it. how dare you. she thought you were friends. now you’re in a fight. elmo in flames dot gif., screaming girl dot png., spongebob burying himself dot webp.

this is not an OPTIONAL feature of a beta reader. this is not just a nice thing that it’s nice to have. this might be the ESSENTIAL function of a beta. her hand is over your head and it’s briefly sheltering you from the pouring rain. hey listen! she says, and she cups your face in her hands: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP. and you, wherever you are in the world, even if you’re 24 hours away from her on the globe, you put your palms to your cheeks to feel the warm blush of happiness and relief. someone else is out there, picking up what you’re throwing down. and you did not fuck it up. it’s actually entirely possible that you nailed it.

without her, you wouldn’t know. and in fact in a small fandom, without her, there wouldn’t BE that much of a fandom. so you and your beta get to be a part of that little group of people who keep a set of stories, a family of characters, alive. that’s fun too. (plus you get to backchannel about all the horribly Wrong Opinions everyone else has. this both saves you from making an ass of yourself on social media, and will make you guffaw during a zoom meeting if you’re not careful.)

so get you a beta reader who’s a screamer. i said what i said. don’t settle for someone who can be nitpicky about the past perfect but who never says anything positive; people will remember and come to read the fic that’s stunning and strange and new even if you forget to use “had.”

i aim for about 50/50 between praise and suggestions (the same proportions i use as a professor), but if i’m honest it winds up being more like 80/20 for fanfic. that’s okay. if i’m gonna err, i’d rather err on the side of encouragement.

we get so little of that, either as writers or just in the world. we get so little hand-holding and shoulder rubs and affectionate hollering. so when you beta, think about letting loose a little. think about, sure, exaggerating for effect. you know how sweet it feels when someone gets all exuberant all over your drafts—so maybe allcaps a little bit, as a treat. it feels pretty great. you’ll see.

(oh and ps: save a life. leave an ao3 comment.)

[oceandirtcountry]

writing because I haven’t gotten to that part in my fic and I want to write it NOW

Ben sighs, throwing his jacket over the roof of his car. It didn’t feel right. Bringing Kai to the place he and Ruby hung out so much in?

He didn’t know where else to go, really. But it still felt so wrong.

Was she…serious, when she said all those things to him in the Ultimatrix? Or was it just mindless blabbering, because he was gonna die, and she might as well make him feel better about it?

Ben watches as Kai opens the car door, dressed elegantly in a dress he couldn’t care less about. She flaunts it, but he’s too lost in his thoughts to bother. Fancy date my ass, he thinks, still wearing his classic jersey and cargo shorts. Sometimes I can’t trust Grandpa Max.

“Sorry ‘bout the dress code mess up.” He isn’t. He doesn’t even try to hide how fake he’s being.

“It’s okay. I expected it from you, after all. You’re you.” See that sarcastic put-you-down bullshit? Kai is the weirdest girl he has ever met, and the only reason why she’s even allowed here is because she acts sane around adults.

What fucked-up kinda line is “I thought I could train him”?

“What flavour smoothie you want?” Ben walks idly to the ordering desk. She just shakes her head, saying something about a diet.

He ordered two smoothies. Kai thought he wasn’t listening.

Ben just forgot he wasn’t on bodyguard duty for one night, and somehow he missed the idiot already.

“Ben, you really haven’t changed, have you?” Kai laughs as he sets two cups down onto the roof of his ride. Ben shakes his head, chuckling along dryly.

She walks over to him, placing an arm on his chest, very much suggestively. He looks away, not out of embarrassment, but just to make sure nobody’s around to witness this nonsense. But there’s a whole crowd building, and he can’t just hero out.

Faults of being a celebrity 101: you’re not allowed to be an asshole in front of your fans.

“So how about it, Benji~ You’ve got tinted windows, right?” she coos. He couldn’t care less. This is gonna be on the news, and Ruby, she’s gonna be…

He was her first crush, Ben realises. She’s never said anything remotely close to her heart-pouring right before he sacrificed himself.

A whiff of something reaches his nose as he pushes Kai away slightly. “Not here,” he coughs out, reeling from the stench—

Hold on, that smells like a fart. A smoked one.

Maybe—just maybe—his teammate was right here. And maybe—someone was coming to his aid.

He watches Kai pucker her lips with mild disgust. Ben just couldn’t imagine it. She was, in technicality, really nice. But they never got along, and he’s just famous now. Everyone wants a piece of him.

She pushes closer, and at this point she’s put him into such a position that he can’t possibly escape.

Ben can only sigh, closing his eyes, hoping the worst of it can just go by. Making out is off the table, but he can only pray she doesn’t try.

Someone tackles Kai Green to the ground in a flurry of red-coloured petals.

Ruby—Ruby Rose, his bodyguardee, protégé, and probably so much more that they never actually talked about—stood up, looking him in the eye, and with so much sincerity, asks:

“Was that…something you wanted? Did I interrupt? Because I’m so sorry, Cunningham said that you looked really uncomfortable, and I just—”

Ruby feels two fingers grab her cheeks, pushing her lips together into a pucker before she feels Ben’s lips crash into hers.

It’s not a describable feeling. But the release, knowing that he finally returned what she did, felt so good. They were, actually, doing it for real.

It’s god-knows-how-long before he finally pulls away. Kai is standing there absolutely dumbstruck, but Ben couldn’t give a single fuck. He’ll answer to grandpa max. He always could.

As Ben drops Kai off back at her house, Ruby turns to him from the passenger seat.

“So, uhm…what are we?”

Ben shrugs. “Partners in crime, Dumb and Dumber, whatever you wanna call it.”

After saying that, he leans in, dangerously close to her face.

“Does it matter, though?”

[cuffmeinblack]

I just had someone comment on Salvation saying they were scared to start it and were looking for a promise that I'll finish it.

And I absolutely definitely promise to finish it.

Unless I die.

In which case I bequeath my insane Miro board to @ellivenollivander and she can finish it else I'll haunt her.

I've never actually put this much effort into a fic before. I usually just sort of wing it or make vague notes and try to organise them in a document as I go. Salvation was my experiment to see if I could do things 'properly' because I want my next project to be an original novel. I've put way too much effort into this fic to give up now and I need to tell this story. For Gar.

I do understand why people are hesitant to start an unfinished fic, I really do, but it's also so important to cheer writers along. It can be lonely pouring hours into writing and having nobody to talk to about it and receiving no acknowledgement of that effort, so I'm so so grateful for anyone who does take the plunge and puts their faith in a WIP. Also shout out to people who write a whole ass 200k fic and then drop it in one go, I don't know how you do it.