#plotting out a song that will wreck the man

[ofglories]

Thinks about my divine muses.

Laughs as I imagine Tsukiyomi, Orpheus, Tiamat, and Taliesin all having tea together and the latter three just bullying Tsukiyomi for his apathy towards humanity.

[hyukakisses]

-emo beomgyu as your jealous bestfriend to boyfriend!

parings: beomgyu x fem reader

plot: heavily inspired by eli goldsworthy’s manic episode in degrassi, (and very old post i had up on my old account)

warnings: cursing, mentally ill/lovesick oreo gyu, sweet reader who’s a pushover, smut, jealous gyu, bestfriend to lover troupe, beomgyu is a bit toxic, beomgyu corrupts reader, reader is also mentally ill with a low self esteem if you squint, sub reader & dom gyu

“so how do i look?” you’d spin in your outfit you had planned out for the night, making beomgyu’s head shot up from the manga he was reading titled nana

beomgyu’s breath hitches at the back of his throat. “you look pretty really pretty” his big brown eyes trail up and down your frame. “why are you wearing black though? i mean it looks good don’t get me wrong but it’s just so not you”

you’d roll your eyes playfully at his comment, internally squealing at how beomgyu knew you so well. “i know this is going to sound so dumb but the guy i’m going on a date with only really likes goth girls”

beomgyu’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach at your admission, you’re going out on a date? with a guy? a guy who wasn’t him?

“a date with a guy who doesn’t even like who you are? seriously y/n?” beomgyu did knew you had low self esteem but he didn’t know it was this low—

you’d frown at the blunt response, “i know i know i sound so pathetic but if i don’t mirror the people i like then how can i ever get them to like me?”

the scowl on beomgyu’s face falls, his eyes softening with pity at your words. how could you not see that he was in love with you? the emo boy would literally die for you — no scratch that beomgyu would kill bare hand slaughter anyone who even thought about you in a negative light yet you’re seriously convinced you couldn’t pull anyone with your personality alone?

beomgyu was about to speak up until your phone rings, a message from the mystery man that was outside your house waiting to escort you to a date and this made the manic emo boy’s blood boil

how dare he takes you away from him? how was that fair?

beomgyu groans loudly after waving you goodbye, waiting patiently on your soft fluffy bed resisting the urge to spam your phone with hundreds of messages and phone calls. hating how you chose some stranger over him

was he not good enough? did the black attire scare you off?

the feeling of impulsiveness rushes through beomgyu’s already wrecked headspace, grabbing his cellphone in a hurry. not being able to stop himself from double— no triple texting you in a row.

miss you >:( 8:10 pm

are you having that much fun without me? it’s been two minutes and you haven’t respond telling me how much you miss me too 8:12 pm

beomgyu let’s out a sigh in frustration, contemplating on the back and forth idea of taking out his anger on your sanrio plushies but he breathes in excitement at the sound of his phone going off.

noooo im not having that much fun without you! i miss you too! 8:13 pm

>:( i hate when you leave me all alone you know 8:13 pm

im sorry ): i’ll make it up to you kay? stay up for me! mwah :3 8:14 pm

MWAH ^_^ <3!! 8:14 pm

WOAH WE KISSED! <3 >:D 8:14 pm

a little bit over a month passes since your night out, and you were currently sobbing on beomgyu’s shoulder. “i-i don’t know what happened i thought everything was going so well but he completely ghosted me when i bought up not wanting anything casual!”

“what’s wrong with me beomgyu? why doesn’t anyone seem to like me after the honeymoon phase? am i that terrible?” you went on a ramble squeezing onto your bestfriend for dear life.

beomgyu couldn’t ignore the slight song of guilt in his chest as he held you in his arms, knowing how much it would kill you if you found out the reason why you can’t keep a relationship to save your life was because of him. beomgyu’s overbearing clinginess this being a huge turn off to any guy you were talking to you.

and since you were super trusting of your friend you never really saw how beomgyu was responsible for your bad luck in dating. this cycle resulting in your low self esteem eventually, often leaving yourself to do a lot of self blaming. wondering, going back and forth with your yourself on why things with literally anyone who showed you any romantic interest always went to shit

am i not pretty enough? am i that boring?

“hey hey so what if the guy doesn’t want to take things to the next level with you? the guys a total loser anyway did you see how beat his car was? you’re telling me you want to settle for someone who’s broke?” beomgyu chuckles trying to use humor to lighten up your pitiful mood

you’d sniffle, “b-but did you see the way he looked at me? it felt nice to be liked and not lusted for” and this made beomgyu chuckle to himself, lazily stroking your hair in an attempt to console you.

if only you knew how much beomgyu liked you— no loved you

“and i’m sure there’s ton of guys out there who will like you instead of lusting over you baby” beomgyu grins looking down at your face was buried in his scrawny chest

“r-really?” your head shoots up from the emo boy’s warm embrace, your eyes glimmering hopeful “you really think so gyu? you think anyone could love me?” you always craved beomgyu’s validation and reassurance

another thing you longed for was beomgyu liking you back, but he’s beomgyu and you’re well you’re you—

beomgyu laughs at your cute question, shaking his head causing his shaggy hair to shake. “are you kidding? of course i think anyone could love you and if they don’t then they’re a total dumbass”

what beomgyu really wanted to say was how he loved you, but the idea of someone as sweet as you dating a total mess of a man like him made the oreo haired boy feel sorry for you

you’d let out a wince, at the feeling of your bestfriend above you stretching out your pink gummy insides. clinging onto the males shoulder blades for dear life. “beomgyu c-can you be more gentle?”

beomgyu softens his blissed out gaze on you, basking in at how tiny you look compared to him and how pretty you looked laid on your back. you reminded the man of a princess.

beomgyu whimpers a nod at your words, his pace slowing down to a gentle rhythm. leaning down to close the gap between you both pulling your soft lips into a sweet kiss savoring the way you tasted like strawberry lip balm.

“does that feel better princess? im not hurting you too much now right?” beomgyu bangs flopped down his eyes making you giggle at the action

“n-no it’s not hurting anymore i feel really good..” you moan sweetly, loving at how beomgyu was checking up on you. “thank you for making sure my first time was with someone who loves me even if it was just in a friend way” you’d smile up at the emo boy bringing him down to your face for a hug

beomgyu mentally face palms, stuffing his face in the crook of your neck. the oreo haired boy drowning into your strawberry pound cake scent, wanting to scream at you in frustration. what kind of virgin takes another virgin’s virginity just because they loved them as a friend? are you really that fucking dumb?

a few weeks by and you had another date with another mystery man, and beomgyu was not happy.

after all the comforting words he told you how could you not see that he was in love with you? how could you possibly throw yourself at any guy who paid you attention?

beomgyu was tired of being nice and patient with you, and without thinking he immediately gets in his car to blow off some steam. imagining the hands belonging to your date dragging its way to your figure, cringing at the idea of you underneath another man cumming around his cock and such

beomgyu was so lost in the idea of you abandoning him for this new guy he didn’t realize he was driving straight into a tree, his eyes widening before the world around him went dark

“you came” beomgyu weakly smiles waking up as he senses you grabbing onto his hand

you’d sniffle back a few tears, seeing your bestfriend in such horrible condition really made you feel guilty. maybe if you were at home with beomgyu he wouldn’t have felt so bored at the house and he wouldn’t have gotten into his car resulting in his accident

“of course i came, i came as soon as i heard” fat tears fall down your face in relief when you examine beomgyu’s cuts weren’t that severe. but the mere thought of beomgyu leaving you was too much

“im so sorry i should have never went out tonight— i should have just stayed indoors with you playing that stupid video game you like what what was it?” you cried trying to remember

“dead by daylight” beomgyu laughs at your crying state

“yes that! i’ve been so self absorbed i didn’t stop and realize that you need to come first im really sorry beomgyu” you’d rabble going into a fit of sobs, blaming yourself over and over again for this happening

“it’s okay seriously i just have a few cuts that’s all” beomgyu assures you, showing off the bandages around his body

“i know but i still feel so guilty..”

“don’t be”

you’d wipe your tears away with a dry laugh, “i don’t even know why i continue to go onto these dates when it’s you i want to be with” you’d admit blushing profoundly

“you what?”

“im sorry terrible timing i know but i almost lost you tonight so i might as well come clean” you’d laugh more genuine this time

“i like you too”

“you what?”

“you heard me, just shut up and help me home will you?”

a/n: this made me miss my ex.. enjoy enjoy

[hannie-dul-set]

나비 / NABI — [preview].

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, mentions of sex, hospital scare, ghosting, rumors as a plot device, what may be considered as bullying, mc refuses to monologue about her feelings, the works. WORD COUNT. preview: 1.2k words | full fic: est. 30k.

RELEASE DATE. end of may or within the month of june. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. this is a sequel to 모기 / MOGI. remember when i said i wasn’t planning on writing a part two to this? haha, remember? well, this might be my best work yet gosh darn, life works in mysterious ways! i poured my entire fucking soul into this! 

something i’d like to mention is that i’ve already planned out this entire sequel before beomgyu’s sukidakara cover came out, before i revisited his other two covers. the timing was crazy because there’s three major arcs to this fic— and somehow, all three songs fit the themes. really really well i started crying at some point HAHAHAHAHHA. there’s so much i want to say about this story, but i’ll bite my tongue until its release. enjoy!

preview under the cut.

YOU STILL DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. Ever since you and he reconciled and publicly became friends again, your life has never known quiet— all thanks to the countless insects constantly buzzing around him, and by consequence around you, every damn day. And it’s not like you can keep avoiding him. Choi Beomgyu has made the executive decision to take advantage of the guilt you’ve been feeling, so for the past month, you’ve been a slave to his whims. 

Responding to 3AM ice cream runs even though you’re swamped with assignments. Going to parties hosted by people you don’t know the fucking names of because he keeps calling you a boring loser. And, the cherry on top, having to deal with Lee Heeseung’s even more annoying presence, just like how you’d predicted he’d behave if he ever finds out you and Beomgyu are friends.

Which he did. Much to your despair and agony.

“Beomgyu, your girlfriend’s here to see you.”

Case in point. You spare him nothing but an eye roll when he lets you in the clubroom for the, ahem, coding club. You’re here because Beomgyu texted you to fetch him a matcha latte and since you’re playing as his slave at the moment (and until your patience runs out), you obliged out of the kindness of your heart, only to get a truckload of teasing in return.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Yeonjun throws you a peace sign from their worn out sofa by the door the moment you enter. He’s accompanied by a good number of chip bags on the cushions.

“Hey,” Hanbin greets you as well when you pass by their alleged meeting table. Which, by the way, has stacks of leftover takeout containers and some empty, some half-empty plastic jugs of water. “Beomgyu is on the computer.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. This clubroom is a fucking gremlin hole.

“You know what.” Your path towards Choi Beomgyu is interrupted by Hyunjin, suddenly popping out of the half-wall separating the lounge area from the computers at the back. You jump, because what the fuck? “My heart races everytime you come here. I still get flashbacks from the day you threatened to wreck our safe haven. I think you gave me PTSD.”

Ah, yes. That day. That was eventful. It was the first time you’ve seen Choi Beomgyu cry.

“Serves you right, gossip snorter,” you say. “Out of the way, I have business to deal with.”

Hyunjin indeed gets out of your way, and there he reveals a row of four computers lined up against the wall with their assigned nerds mashing on the keyboards and yelling profanities at matching game screens. You zero in on the one on the far left corner. Surprisingly, Beomgyu is relatively calm compared to the others. You tap on his shoulder. Beomgyu turns his head around.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his office chair back from out of the desk with a swivel while removing the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck. You notice Jeongin seated beside him, who looks up at you only for a moment only to flinch back to the screen. “You’re here?”

No, shit. You jangle the latte in front of his face, head cocked, and he reaches out for it. But then you quickly jerk back your hand before he can snatch it from you. “Nuh-uh. Pay up.”

“Tch,” Beomgyu clicks his tongue and shoots you a bitter look. “Hyung, can you toss me my jacket?”

Someone from behind does indeed toss him his jacket, and at that very moment as well, Heeseung decides that it’s a great time to indulge in his newly founded hobby. “Hey, how about me? Why didn’t you get me a drink?” He joins the already crowded crevice in the back and swings an arm around your shoulder. “You get a boyfriend and forget all your friends. Have you forgotten that you two got together because of me? I’m hurt, I’m so hurt.”

Your face scrunches up. “Literally, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not my boyfriend.” You elbow Heeseung off, eliciting another whine from him. When your eyes snap back at Beomgyu, you see that he’s preoccupied with going through wallet. You kick his chair. “Say something, dipshit.”

Beomgyu hands you a bill and exchanges it with the matcha latte. You wait for him to speak. He takes a long sip, pulls his face away from the straw with a grimace, hands back the drink to you, then says, “What she said.”

You look at him, drink now back in your hands.

“What the fuck?”

“Keep it,” he says, putting his headphones back on. “Don’t you have class?”

Your jaw clenches. Fucker made you run an errand for nothing. He gives you an asshat smile of goodbye then spins his chair back to his computer. You scoff and smack the back of his head, causing his headphones to slip off. “Bye.”

“Hey!”

“Later,” Heeseung bids you off, and it’s followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the inhabitants of the testosterone infested, stinky gamer cave. Seriously, every time you drop by here,, you feel an ounce of your soul shriveling up and rotting away. Yeonjun very politely opens the door for you. You hear one of them yell out before you leave.

“Come over tomorrow. Hanbin hyung’s treating us to pizza!”

And with that, you’re finally free, matcha latte in hand and a desire to breathe in some fresh air. You’re pretty sure the air is polluted in there. But still, it’s been a lot easier to breathe recently than when you two weren’t on good terms.

“Saved you a seat.”

You make it to class two minutes before the schedule. Minjeong proudly taps on the seat next to her, and you take the invitation. “As you should,” you hum, taking out your notes from your bag, and not long after Sungchan arrives and lands on the spot next to you.

It’s the week before finals. Prof Shin starts the class and decides to fuck all of your study schedules by giving a last minute assignment due next week as well. 

“Does this guy want to give us depression before the summer or some shit?” Minjeong complains the moment your professor leaves the lecture hall.“I swear to god, if another prof gives us an assignment due over the break, I’m killing myself.”

“You two have plans over the break?” asks Sungchan, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and the three of you head out for lunch, funneling out into the hallway along with the rest of your blockmates.

“I’m going home,” says Minjeong.

“I have summer classes,” you answer..

Sungchan stops in his tracks. “You serious?” 

“Yup.”

“You bet on it.”

He looks at the both of you like you’re a bunch of withering old ladies and he’s very much unimpressed. “Make some time for the last week. I’m throwing the wildest summer rager and you two can’t miss it.”

You’re pretty sure you replied with something along the lines of an agreement, but you’re not quite sure. The thought completely slips out of your head throughout the next week because, well, finals. And before you know it, your first semester of uni comes to a close, and summer comes crashing in at full swing.

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

You and Me

AN: I felt compelled to write something based on the best song off of ATE so, here we are. Also, purple haired Changbin had a vicious hold on me so.

Synopsis: Changbin isn't what you're used to. He's uncomplicated. Fun. Casual. However, maybe that's what you need.

General tags and warnings: Seo Changbin x Fem! Reader, situationship/casual dating, one mention of past alcohol consumption, barely there angst and mentions of a breakup and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: While there isn't explicit powerplay, Reader does take charge and Changbin is more on the submissive side, petnames, dirty talk, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple and breast play (f. receiving), Reader is very into Changbin's body (she's just like me fr), strength kink, arm kink of sorts, piv sex without a condom and creampie.

Word count: 3k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

“Hey!” he yells, shooting you a nasty scowl that only makes you laugh before turning his attention back to his needlessly massive television, “You totally cheated!” 

Things with Changbin are simple. Easy. Freeing. 

“It's not my fault you suck at Mario Kart, Bin,” you respond through laughter that causes your cheeks and stomach to start hurting. Your amusement only grows as you watch him still lose to you even though you're playing while laughing at him and his horrible gaming skills. 

You're not sure why he insists on playing when you both know how trash at it he is. 

“I swear you cheated,” he mumbles under his breath, though it's loud and clear enough for you to hear. You playfully bump your shoulder against his, “How would I even cheat in this game?” you bite back a giggle when you notice his scowl deepen from the corner of your eye, “I just think someone is a sore loser and can't handle getting their ass kicked,” you sing-song. 

“I am not a sore loser,” he argues, fingers mashing the buttons of his controller as his eyes focus on Bowser inching closer to fifth place with every button he all but smashes. “You're just a dirty, lying cheater,” he grumbles, his lips forming a thin line as his attention briefly shoots to your choice of Peach comfortably in second place. 

You elect not to give into his accusations. Simply letting your actions speak for themselves and smirking when you cross the finish line in first place. Again. Changbin crosses his arms and refuses to look at you for a few moments and you try your hardest not to laugh at the pout on his face and the way his purple bangs shadow his eyes. 

“Changbin,” you start, the struggle to hold back your laughter evident to even your own ears. 

“One more game.” 

The corners of your lips tick up without your consent, “Changbin, we've already played five rounds and I won four of them,” you respond. 

“Just one more. I know I can win,” he argues desperately. You don't think you've ever seen anyone take Mario Kart this seriously. His ego must be terribly bruised right now. 

“We had a deal, Binnie,” you remind him, your smile widening, “A deal that was actually over two, whole rounds ago.” 

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically in resignation and this time you do let the giggles bubble out of you. You can't remember the last time you allowed yourself to just…have fun before meeting the man next to you after one too many glasses of wine and swiping on Tinder. 

Minho had been incessantly nagging you to put yourself out there after things crashed and burned with your ex-boyfriend of five years. Saying that you were wrecked after he broke up with you last year would be putting it kindly. You're honestly not sure how you survived that but, a stubborn man who is arguably more cat than human and who loves you more than he'll ever admit likely had something to do with it. 

‘The best way to get over someone is to get under someone new. Or, on top of them. Whatever works for you.’ His advice was pretty horrible but, after spending these handful of months with Changbin, you can't say it totally sucked. 

You're startled out of your thoughts by a firm hand on your thigh, plush lips kissing along your jaw. You're not sure exactly when he moved but, you aren't complaining. Placing your controller down and letting your fingers run along his purple locks. 

“I really like this colour,” you say a little breathlessly, letting him push you down onto his couch and make himself comfortable between your thighs. You've found that it's incredibly easy to get in the mood when it comes to Changbin. A few kisses and groping at his massive arms and you're ready to go.  

He laughs softly against your neck, eager hands shoving your shirt up and exposing your breasts to the cool air of his apartment, “I've noticed. If I was a more insecure man, I think you cumming extra hard the first time you fucked me after I dyed it would hurt my feelings,” he muses against your skin, his warm breath combined with the way his firm hands gently knead your tits causing your mind to grow hazy and your clit to buzz to life. 

“I mean, it's still you that made me cum so, there's no real reason to feel insecure anyway,” you respond with a snort, arching into him when his soft lips press firmer kisses along your collarbone. Usually endearing eyes becoming heavier with desire with every second his mouth and his hands remain on your more than willing body. “True but, a lesser man would,” he replies, sounding increasingly more uninterested in this conversation and instead focusing on your hardened nipples and spanning as much of his hands as he can along your waist. 

You can't say you blame him. The fog creeping into your mind worsens when his warm mouth eventually takes the plunge and envelopes one of the nipples he's been sneaking glances at since you showed up braless hours ago. The determination to make sure you're enjoying yourself is one of your favourite parts of Changbin, as selfish as that may be. He's purposeful, even in moments where his passion overrides the rational side of his brain. His fingers experimenting with how to caux the most visceral reactions from you, his mouth testing to see how soft or hard you like it. Even all these months later, his curiosity and desire to see just how much and in how many ways he can make you feel good makes your head spin. 

The light drag of his teeth along your nipple causes your entire body to jolt. Your pussy clenching around nothing when his heavy gaze finds your lidded one through the wisps of his purple hair. God, it looks so fucking good on him. The memory of you two fucking each other close to unconsciousness the first day you saw him sporting it is a fond one and, makes for phenomenal spank bank material when he's too busy to let you bounce on his cock or fold you in half. Not one to be outdone, however, your hands drift from where they'd been clingy to his ridiculously hot shoulders (seriously, you never knew shoulders could be this attractive) to palm his biceps greedily. Changbin knows what his arms do to you. He knows just how stupid they make you and, you're 99% sure he wore this shirt that clings to him like a second layer of skin for that reason. 

It's so incredibly easy to lose yourself in the ministrations of his mouth and his hand and his delectable body. To lose yourself in him. Goosebumps rise in his wake as one of his hands hurriedly moves down your overheated body until it reaches the waistband of your tiny shorts. He isn't the only one who's picked up on a weakness or four during the months you've been frequenting each others’ beds. You learned fairly quickly that Changbin is obsessed with your ass and thighs and, will attach himself to them whenever you give him the chance. It's done wonders for your confidence.  

You'd pout at him for freeing your nipple from his mouth if he wasn't speeding his way down your body in record time. Every place he presses a wet, hurried kiss into burns and you know you don't really have any ground to complain because anticipation simmers in your veins when he helps you get rid of your shorts and discard them unceremoniously onto his floor. His eagerness might be your favourite characteristic of his, actually. He really acts like if he doesn't get his mouth on your pussy, he'll simply perish. Evidenced by the way his hungry gaze locks onto your dripping folds and he makes himself comfortable on his stomach. If your clit throbs at the sight of his arms flexing as they grip your spread thighs, that's between you and yourself. 

“You know, you never have to win a bet in order for me to eat you out,” he says, voice hoarse and heavy, the faintest hints of his breath hitting your bare pussy prompting your thighs to quiver. Glancing down at him, it takes a herculean amount of effort not to just grip him by his roots and shove him into you but, you persist, “I know,” you breathe, your fingers lacing themselves in his hair and toying with it, “but, it feels even better when you do it after I've won one of our little bets,” you finish with lopsided smile that you're certain is dripping with smugness. 

The whimper that escapes his plush lips is almost as satisfying as finally feeling him touch you. Changbin is excited and messy when he eats you out. He does it without abandon and without much build up. His fingers are determined to leave themselves imprinted into your thighs with how harshly he's holding onto you. His display of strength fueling you to tighten your grip in his hair and tilt your hips until there's virtually nowhere for him to go. Not that he'd want to go anywhere else based on the way he lavishes your clit with licks and his spit. The vibrations from his groans adds to the tension building in your entire body, shuddering moans of his name and an array of colourful curse words spilling from your lips. 

Your grip on his hair grows harsher when he sucks on your clit, albeit gently. If the pain is too much for him, he doesn't show you any indication of that. If anything, his mouth is even more determined and he drags you closer to him. You've always wondered in the back of your mind if just watching how strong he is would be enough to make you cum. You should really test that hypothesis one day. If nothing else, it would breed interesting results. 

His tongue presses into your clit in time with one of his sucks, forcing you to focus your attention back on the very hot man smearing your wetness on his face while the character selection screen watches on. His eyes haven't left you once. The lust in them is palpable and, your stomach twists pleasantly with the knowledge that he wants you just as much as you always want him. Even as your hold of his beautiful hair grows more frantic and harsh. Even as he uses his strength to hold you down so that he can make out with your pussy to his heart's content. Even when your own eyes flutter shut and the waves grow increasingly higher. His eyes never stop watching you. 

You're almost certain that and a hard press of his tongue are eventually what do you in. 

Changbin is never one to quit. He keeps kissing and lapping at you even through your oragsm, although not nearly as intensely as he was a minute ago. The buzz you feel to the very tips of your fingers is prolonged every time his soft lips press themselves into you and he loudly moans into your dripping folds. It's only when you weakly pull at his strands and tiredly call his name that he finally relents. Leaving your clit with a final kiss that makes you giggle. He truly loves to do the most. 

“Come here,” you gently command and he follows willingly. You kiss him lazily. Your tongue in search of every bit of your taste on his. Hands leisurely feeling as much of his firm torso and plump ass as they can. You smile into him when he jumps as your hands make their way under his too-tight shirt. Still, he lets you peel him out of it. Only separating from your mouth briefly so he can toss it somewhere to be forgotten about until after the two of you have exhausted each other. 

The sight of his bare chest causes your slick walls to clamp down painfully around nothing. The outline of his thick cock through the sweats low on his hips makes you realise, rather viscerally, just how empty you are and how much you'd very much like to be filled. Now. 

“What are you–” 

His question dies on his tongue when you successfully maneuver yourself onto all fours. His quiet ‘fuck’ brings a smile to your face. It's always fun using his weaknesses against him. 

“You look shit, you look so hot like this,” he practically whines, shuffling behind you in record time. Based on the rustling of his sweats and the lack of clothing joining the mess on his floor, you assume he just haphazardly tugged them down enough to free his cock. The image causing saliva to pool in your mouth and more of your wetness to trickle down your sticky, inner thighs. 

“That's very sweet of you to say, baby,” you coo, shooting him a look over your shoulder that prompts his cock to jump. Cute. “Now are you just going to stare at my ass or are you planning to actually fuck me?” You ask with a saccharine edge to your tone, swaying your hips for good measure. 

You bite down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling too hard at his overeagerness. He shuffles closer to you in record time, placing a warm, firm hand on your hip while the other guides his fat tip to your pulsing hole. Whatever amusement you were feeling quickly dissipates when he starts to push into you. His hand shaking with every inch of himself he sinks into you. The stretch is always so fucking good with Changbin. Despite who knows how many times you've let him split you open, the first few strokes always take a bit of adjusting. 

“How are you always so tight?” He gasps out when his thighs finally meet the backs of yours. Both of his hands grabbing your hips fiercely in an attempt to ground himself as he shallowly thrusts into you. “And so fucking wet,” he groans, his entire body vibrating with the effort it takes not to cum immediately. You've learned that Changbin's stamina is simultaneously impressive and terrible. Terrible in that it honestly doesn't take all that much to make him cum. And impressive in that it only takes a few minutes until he's hard and ready to go again. It adds to the myriad of reasons he's so fun to fuck. 

“I'll tell you when you tell me how your cock always fills me ah, Binnie,” you mewl in response, your lashes fluttering when he picks up his pace and starts to stretch you out properly. His only response is a guttural moan and snap of his hips that forces you forward onto his couch's armrest. The smile on your face must look delirious with how fantastic he's making you feel, down to the very tips of your toes. You love when he gets desperate. Your walls sporadically clamping down on him with every ramble he mutters into the skin of your back and the sweaty, hard hold he maintains of you. 

“Fuck,” he gasps when you intentionally tighten around him and push your ass back onto him, “You're so–I'm–I'm close,” he heaves into your skin. His sweat drenched hair tickling your skin and his arms flexing around you with the effort it takes for him not to just cum into your perfect pussy. The constant twitching of his cock inside you is delicious and you feel like a woman possessed. 

“But Binnie,” you whine with a pout for good measure, batting your eyes at him over your shoulder, “It was just getting so good. You know I love when you fuck me with this fat cock of yours,” you emphasise your point by pressing back against him. A cocktail of desire and delight sitting in the pit of your stomach watching the way his entire body shudders and said fat cock twitches non-stop. 

“Don't you want to make me cum on it, bunny?” 

And just like he snaps within an instant. 

Your moans are swallowed by the fabric of his couch, fingers clawing into the material as the obscene noises of his skin slapping against your and his cock bullying your pussy echo through his living room. But your favourite part is always the sounds. His deep moans intertwined with his fucked out whimpers always make you throb in the best, most lust-induced way possible. The haziness clouding your brain makes it difficult to catch everything he imprints into your skin but, what does hit your ears is more than enough to send one of your hands between your thighs and draw frenzied circles into your swollen clit. 

He crumbles first with a broken, slurred moan of your name. His arms keeping you pressed to his hot, sweaty chest as his cock unloads rope after rope of cum into your more than ready pussy. The whines and jolts of his hips, pushing his release as deeply as he can into you, are what spark your own toe-curling orgasm. Well, that and a little help from your more-than-likely-pruney fingers. His grip on you tightens as your walls milk him for whatever he has left. You wouldn't be shocked if his hold on you was the only thing keeping you from completely floating up into the clouds. 

For a moment, your respective, laboured breaths are the only sounds in his living room (besides the long forgotten Mario Kart, obviously). Changbin, to no one's surprise, recovers first and pulls out of you as gently as he can. You always hate this part. Still, you cringe a little when he does. He's still for a second after that and you feel a smile splitting your face in half. 

“I can feel you staring,” you mutter, turning your head to look at him. There's no hint of shame to be found on his face and it just makes you smile harder. 

“Well obviously,” he responds with a huff, “I have a very hot woman on my couch who just let me cum inside of her. Of course I'm going to stare,” he says as though you asked him the most basic question he's ever heard. 

“You're so unserious,” you snort. 

“That's why you like me so much,” he retorts with an incredibly cheesy eyebrow wiggle. 

Well, he's not wrong. 

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[kaciidubs]

Get Nasty | Bang Chan x Reader

❣ Summary: No thoughts, or plot, just that song Nasty [extended version] by Russ, and sleep deprived, very horny ideas ❣ ❣ Word Count: 974 ❣ ❣ Warnings: porn without plot, slight dacryphilia, slight Dom!Chris, creampie, mention of edging, begging, fluff at the end if you squint ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as good girl, baby, angel, gorgeous, beautiful, pretty, Chan is referred to as Chris ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣

“God, fuck-”

Chris gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you spread open as his hips drove his cock into you again and again.

“Look at you,” he grunted, tongue running across his plump bottom lip, “doing such a good job- taking me so well, baby.”

You moaned at his praise, fingers gripping the pillow your head was currently laid on for dear life; ‘Keep them there.’ he’d instructed, and so you did.

“Good girl, so good for me.” His thrusts slowed to allow a slow, deep rock of his pelvis against yours, looking down at you with a lazy smirk, “Maybe this time I should let you come, hm? Would my baby like that?”

“Please,” You gasped out, fighting against the roll of your eyes when his dick pressed against your g-spot, “please, Channie, let me come.”

You were sweaty, sore, and strung out from how long he kept you on edge and spread just for him - you were so sensitive at this point that a gentle breeze against your clit could send you over the edge and straight into overstimulation.

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in feigned sympathy, “I know you can do better than that, angel, come on.”

Pleasure-fueled tears stung the backs of your eyes as you stared up at him; warm skin glowing with a sheen of sweat, veins pressing against his forearms like a textured map as his biceps flexed, pouty bratz-doll lips parted and plump, black hair now curled and clinging to his forehead - he was beautifully wrecked.

“Chris, p-please,” your voice trembled, his slow, methodical thrusts keeping your nerves on the cusp of that sweet, sweet release, “can I please come? I-I’ve been a good girl-” You felt a tear escape the corner of your eye, effectively marking the peak of your pent up energy, “I wanna- wanna come for you like a good girl, your good girl, please, baby.”

Squeezing your thighs, a pleased hum vibrated in the back of his throat, “My good girl, yeah?”

“Y-Yours,” You echoed back, whimpering when he pulled out to leave only his tip within your fluttering walls, “only yours, Chris.”

“Then you’ll take it like my good girl, okay?”

Your lips parted for a response but the only sound to leave was a loud moan as he snapped his hips forward, sheathing himself in one fell swoop with the slap of skin against skin sounding after.

If his first pace was fast, this new one was borderline animalistic in the way he pressed your legs up to pin your knees to your chest, grounding himself on his knees and fucking into you like a man possessed.

“F-Fuck! I- Oh- Oh my god-” Your body felt like it was on fire, one side of your brain willing you to wrench yourself away from his brutal thrusts while the other begged you to just lie down and take it like he said - like you wanted.

He pulled your legs down to wrap around his waist instead, welcoming the squeeze as he slid his hands up the plush of your hips and stomach, “My pretty baby - so gorgeous-” Leaning down, he littered open mouthed kisses on your breasts, “-beautiful, you drive me crazy.”

Your back arched, head swimming as tears trailed down the sides of your face, “Chris, please- Can I touch you? Please, please, please-” Your cries were silenced by his lips catching your own, moving in an unpracticed synchronicity as he slid his right hand up to where yours was clutching the pillow case - gently prying your hand away to thread his fingers between yours.

His left hand, however, made a journey for itself between your bodies to where you were connected, the pads of his fingers finding purchase on your neglected clit with small, quick circles.

You choked on a gasp from the new stimulation, your orgasm now barreling toward you like a runaway train, but the only sounds of warning you could make were breathless chants of his name through broken sobs.

“I know, baby,” Chris cooed, timing the circle of his fingers with each powerful rock of his hips, “come for me, I’ve got you - come for me.”

Whether it was the gentle, reassuring tone of his voice, or the consistent, mind melting drag of his cock and fingers, you felt your body tense before the coil snapped - your head falling back against the pillow with a choked moan of his name.

“Fuck,” he squeezed your hand tighter, the rhythmic clenching of your walls coaxing his climax further, “feel so good- s-so good, I-” The hand that was previously working you through your orgasm slid to hold onto your hip, keeping you in place as his pace faltered, “I’m gonna- baby, f-fuck-”

His head dropped to the crook of your neck, attempting to stifle his whimpers against your skin as his hips stuttered against your own - one, two, three thrusts rocking your body against his until he came with a muffled whine.

You used your free hand to card your fingers through his hair, soothing him with gentle scratches against his scalp and earning a low hum in response.

“You sound more fucked out than I am,” You giggled breathlessly, minding the way your pussy fluttered around his softening cock.

Chris sucked in a breath, hips twitching at the slight overstimulation, “Edging you is the same as edging myself, baby - and don’t get me started on how good you look crying for my dick.”

There was a slight pause in your movements until you continued on, tugging gently at the strands, “Maybe… next time you can show me?”

Squeezing your hand that was still entwined with his, he pressed a slow kiss against the underside of your jaw, lips curling into a smirk. “Don’t tempt me into turning that ‘next time’ into the next fifteen minutes.”

❣ I'll say this; I've had this as a draft ever since the song came out, and I only ever remembered it when I was too sleep deprived to finish it, but here I am and here it is. I was so tempted to just leave it on a cliff hanger because I didn't know how I wanted to end it, but somehow I squeaked out a half assed "to be continued" because multiple rounds? Don't mind if I do ❣

❣ Any type of feedback is appreciated! Whether it be a simple like, reblog, or keyboard smash and the most essay-like comment, feel free to share your thoughts. ❣

[midnight-mourning]

Playlists!

So youtube has removed my ability to make playlists??? Like the button is just GONE and I don't know why 😭😭

SO, we're doing this the old fashion way. If I ever get my button back I'll edit this with links. For now, enjoy this!

Each of these is pretty short, and exists as a combination of songs that match the vibes of each character, songs I think they'd listen to/sing/dance to, and so on and so forth. I'll probably be adding more, but these are the core ones for now. Additionally:

Some of them are plot relevant

Two of them are upcoming chapter titles

A couple you may recognize as arc titles

The remaining two arc titles (4 & 5) are also in here

Enjoy stewing over this information :) :) :)

Shout-out to @cazbats for making me organize these/share them <3

Sun:

Yeah Yeah Yeah - New Politics; Too Late - The Happy Fits; End of It - Friday Pilots Club, FMO - Unlike Pluto; Favorite Liar - The Wrecks; Jungle - Hotel Mira; So Alright Cool Whatever - The Happy Fits; New invention - IDKHBTFM; Cold Cold Cold - Cage the Elephant; Cold Cold Man - Saint Motel; Come and Get Your Love - Redbone; Hooked on a Feeling - Björn Skifs and Blue Swede

Moon:

Favorite Poison - Fuller; Ophelia - The Lumineers; Novocaine - The Unlikely Candidates; Medicine - ArtistvsPoet; Nightmares - Easy Life; Elephant in the room - Confetti; New invention - IDKHBTFM; Cold Cold Cold - Cage the Elephant; I Think I Like When It Rains - WILLIS; Just the Two of Us (feat. Bill Withers) - Grover Washington Jr.; Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Tears for Fears; Mr. Blue Sky - ELO (IM SORRY THEY'RE BOTH 70s/80s BOYS TO ME I CAN'T HELP IT)

Reader:

I Miss Having Sex But at Least I Don't Want to Die Anymore - Waterparks; Honeybee - The Head and The Heart; All Over - CRUISR; American Cliche - FINNEAS; Grand Romantic Life - Mom Rock; Sloppy - KiNG MALA; Kickflip by UPSAHL; Animal - Sir Chloe; Running up that hill - Kate Bush; Genesis - Grimes; Electric Love - BØRNS; indie dream boy - yungatita; this version of Mamma Mia - ABBA

Also! I don't have playlists but I do have songs for the remainder of the cast (this includes the animatronics and my silly little guys) I'll share those sometime if people are interested ^-^

[whyareyouhere66]

Omg cool I have an angsty request 😈(if you’re comfortable writing it<3)

Kind of Tom!Peter Parker x Male!Stark!reader x Tony Stark(platonic obviously) ??

Reader has a rocky relationship with his dad Tony, just wants his attention, to be seen by Tony etc. but once Peter joins and takes Tonys full attention reader just automatically hates him for ‘stealing his dad from him’. As time goes on reader just gets more hateful and jealous of Peter, maybe getting into fights with Peter on purpose. Suddenly there’s a new villain/anti-hero (??) that’s been interfering with there plans or just wrecking havoc to go after Peter. Plot twist when they finally catch them/they’re too hurt to keep fighting, it’s revealed as reader. You can make it as angsty as u want!

(A.K.A. Reader is Loki, Peter is Thor and Tony is Odin lol)

 AHH THIS

I love this trope-

So glad you requested this, (and thank you for checking stuff first) and enjoy

Also note that I’m not too fresh on the marvel timeline, if you notice anything that doesn’t exactly align with the movie than I’m sorry just brush past it- this also might be the longest fic I’ve ever written so 

Implied to be set around the start of Peter’s Spider-Man stuff. 

x

Look What You Made Me Do

Male Stark Reader x Avengers

“If I loved you, was a promise….

Would you break it, if you’re honest?” 

[idontwannabeyouanymore, Billie Eillish, 2017]

Cw: violence/fighting, Tony being a bad dad, slightest mentions of drinking, angst Kind of jumping straight into it too- 

I’ll fix a few things later I’m tired I want this one to be out and about

Named after a Taylor song, starting with a Billie lyric 💪💪 

If you were to ask anyone about the wealthiest men in modern day New York, it’s inevitable for Tony Stark to appear somewhere on that list.

He’s rich, handsome, a superhero. New  York’s knight in shining armor. 

Most believe his life is a dream, somehow oblivious to the fact that maybe a superhero doesn’t live life in the dream house. But when he’s made his brand through money, fancy houses, big parties, and shiny military weapons it’s easy for people to see no further than surface level.

That isn’t the case for his son, though. 

From a wealth aspect of it- the young Stark knows how grateful he is, how grateful he should be, for his father.

If it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t be currently sitting in this large bedroom, with a view most would pay a couple grand for, wouldn’t be surrounded by the various expensive objects linked to his little interests. It doesn’t even matter how much Y/n would insist on paying- he never seems to think much of it. Maybe it’s his way of showing affection.

That’s what Y/n hopes, at least. 

Because if not- there’s not much there. Tony Stark has never been much of an affectionate person, some may blame it on his own father. Others would blame it on the business- no time for distractions on a long days work.

But neither of those reasons matter- for all his son ever wanted is for Tony to love him the way he wants him to.

-

Static crackles through Y/n’s small speaker, and quickly the boy perks up. A short glance  over and he finds the old Queen record spinning aimlessly, with the tone arm at the end of its songs.

Pushing himself off the bed, he walks over to the stand where Tony’s old record player sits. Taking the arm off- he flips the record over to side b, before returning it to its place. 

The intro of Queen’s “Hammer to Fall” begins ringing from the speaker, and a small, satisfied smile grows on Y/n’s face.

He hums the beat, nodding his head with it while turning back to his bed- but something catches his eye.

Outside, there’s two figures standing out front. One eyebrow raises, Y/n slowly steps closer to the window. 

“Who-?”

Recognizing his dad, dressed in his best suit, Y/n leans closer. The other figure isn’t quite as tall as Tony, and looks quite obviously nervous. 

Y/n furrows his eyebrows. 

….That’s Peter Parker.

What the hell is he doing at Stark’s house?

***

The sound of a backpack falling to the ground echoes through the foyer- and immediately it’s a sigh of relief. The sweet, sweet air conditioning here is heavenly in contrast to the one at school.

Y/n faintly feels a vibration in his pocket- grabbing it only to see multiple notifications coming from a group chat. 

‘What are they on…’ he wonders, scrolling through countless messages worth of nonsense. He goes to reply, when-

“Y/n!”

His head snaps up at the voice, echoing out from the couch.

‘didn’t realize he was home…’ he looks back at the window, finding his father’s car parked in the driveway. 

“Oh.” 

Deciding the group chat can wait, the teen wanders to where his father sits. 

“What’s up?” Immediately Y/n sees the  scattered papers piling on top of one another on the coffee table, the short crystal glass filled halfway with rum. You’d think he’d wait until at least five, but that’s not the Stark way.

“I found a uh, form on the coffee table,” his voice sounds bored, tired, “something about textbooks for school?”

Y/n notices the forms sitting at the edge farthest from Tony, as if they’d been pushed away as far as they could go. 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He says awkwardly, looking at the dirty laces of his shoes, “it’s fine, I got it.” 

“Well I can pay for them, if that’s what you’d like.” The eldest Stark shrugs, finally looking at his son from over the rim of his glasses.

Y/n almost feels embarrassed- when had he asked for that? He shakes his head, though it doesn’t hide the surprised look on his face.

“No, no you don’t have to-“

“Oh please, I got it, education is our future or something, right?” Tony shrugs, taking off his glasses and beginning to stand up from his chair, headed for the black leather wallet he’d left on the dining table. 

Y/n isn’t quite sure why he’s now rushing to step in front of his dad- there isn’t much harm in the gesture after all. Maybe he just doesn’t want the weight of depending on his father for everything to lay on his shoulders. Either way, excuses are already falling from his mouth.

“You really don’t have to, dad-“

“You’re acting like I’m handing you the presidents treasury,” Tony deadpans, “besides, you don’t have a job.”

Y/n pauses. 

“Wha- yes, I do-“ does his dad really not know about his job?

“Look, it doesn’t matter, I can get them used anyways-“

Before he can take one step closer, a nervous voice quips up from the doorway and ends the race for the wallet.

“Um, Mr. Stark?”

Curiously, Y/n and his dad snap their heads to see who has just joined them.

“Peter-?”

Peter Parker stands in the large door way, curled into himself with his backpack strap folded between his fist. His eyes are wide and questioning, looking between his classmate and his idol as if he had walked into the wrong room. 

Suddenly, Tony’s shoulders drop- and he’s no longer interested in any textbook or wallet. 

“Ah, Parker, didn’t think you’d make it.” He says bluntly, strutting away from his son and towards the obviously nervous boy. 

“Here, sit down kid.”

With the man’s hand pressed into his shoulder blade, Peter has no choice but to follow him towards the various seats lining the dining table. And from the side- Y/n watches, absolutely lost.

After he had seen his father and Peter talking, he kept it to himself. Knowing the boy, he had simply assumed Peter was asking for an autograph or a picture, just like half of the city. 

But now, he is in his house. At his table. 

What the hell is this?

“Um,” Y/n’s voice sounds blunt, almost too similar to his father- who’s already sitting down across from Peter with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised, as if this was a press conference. 

Peter looks at him first, while his father throws a glance over his shoulder. 

“What’s this?” Y/n asks, pointing to the strange teenage boy sitting down in his seat. Tony tiredly leans back in the chair, twisting to the side just slightly so he could look at Y/n head on. 

“Y/n, this is Peter, Peter, this is Y/n.” 

“Uh, yeah, we know each other.” Peter pipes up, giving Y/n the shortest, most awkward smile it seems he could muster. Y/n’s face stays blank.

“Yeah, I meant what is he doing here?”

Tony doesn’t seem at all phased by the rude undertones of Y/n’s question.

“Peter is gonna work as my intern for a little while, I’m training him.”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow. 

“For what-“

“Hey, quit interrupting, will you?” Tony dismisses him with the wave of his hand, turning around so he’s fully facing Peter. And Y/n lingers there, processing. He doesn’t like feeling like a shadow, not in his own home especially, but that’s the feeling that begins to overtake him.

Intern…? 

He tries understanding what that means- there’s many possibilities. Assistant, maybe. But when he looks between his dad and his classmate one last time, seeing that he’s been nearly forgotten in the room (aside from the short glances from Peter’s end) he turns around to retreat, fists clenched. 

His dad has had interns before, Peter likely won’t be much different. Possibly.

***

It’s been 5 weeks.

And multiple times, for each of those weeks, Peter has been somewhere mixed into the tangle of Tony Stark’s extensive schedule, far more entangled than Y/n has been for the past few years.

He shows up to dinner, trains at the Avenger’s tower. He comes knocking on the door randomly asking for life advice, or something- he’s everywhere.

It wasn’t even until week 4 that Y/n discovered the truth behind his sudden presence, when he saw the suit for the first time.

He has his own suit, god can you believe it?

Y/n watches on as Tony seems to easily bring Peter under his wing- hating how he has to avoid the burning green envy that burns his ears. How has Tony managed to take on the father figure role to Peter, when he barely manages that role with his own son?

‘It shouldn’t hurt this bad,’ y/n will think to himself, ‘you’re independent, relying on him will only make it harder in the long run.’

But he couldn’t help the hardened glare that arose every time he saw his dad, his own dad, bonding with someone else the way he had been wanting for what- 16 years?

Even now, sitting at the table, while the teen stares into the bowl of cereal in front of him, it’s just so irking to think about. 

His spoon scrapes the edges of the bowl, gathering the now soggy cheerios into a cluster in its silver dip. Then, they get lost in his mouth. Rinse and repeat- he does it over and over while staring a blazing hole into the wall. 

What is Peter doing that he can’t?

“Mr. Stark-“ 

Speak of the devil. 

Y/n’s grip on the spoon tightens.

Peter comes stumbling into the room, out of breathe as if he sprinted all the way here. He doesn’t even knock anymore, Y/n thinks, he’s made himself at home.

“Kid? What’re you doing here?” 

The nickname sends a shivering twitch through Y/n’s already sore muscles, tugging his face so he can’t control the annoyed look that comes through. 

They’re talking to each other now, Peter trying to tell a story far too quickly for either of them to follow. Y/n blocks their voices out.

His chair scrapes against the floor, and he grabs his bag to leave. 

“I’m going to school.” He says loudly, cutting off their conversation. 

“Oh, I guess I gotta go too-“ 

“No,” Peter freezes, looking at Y/n curiously, “no, no stay here longer why don’t you? Practically your house.” Venom leaks from his words, the sarcasm so loud it makes Peter flinch. 

“Y/n,” Tony groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. Y/n’s stare only hardens.

“What?” He snaps, now looking at his father. 

“Really?” Is all that Tony manages, before Y/n is rolling his eyes and spinning on his heel.

“(F/n) is waiting for me.” He grumbles, snatching his phone and stomping out of the room. 

How does his dad not get it? Is he so blind he can’t even see his own blatant favoritism? 

The look of exhaustion displayed on his face would make you think hes working day and night having to put up with Y/n’s attitude- yet he’s unaware he’s exactly what’s causing it. 

Y/n doesn’t want to blame Peter, in the back of his mind he knows that it’s his dad’s fault. But it feels like his father is being stolen.

But can it really be theft if there wasn’t much of him in the first place?

Y/n knows that he’s picking all the fights, starting all the arguments just so that twisted part of his head gets some satisfaction. 

It shouldn’t be working so well.

.

The young Stark doesn’t return home until it’s just about dark outside, his backpack hanging loosely off his shoulders. 

He walks the long halls of his home, past the doors that could either be a guest bathroom or a weapon closet. Even if there’s more entryways than doors, his father opting for large empty frames, he walks the length of it with no specific destination in mind. 

He isn’t too sure where he’s headed anyways, considering he’s passed the way to his bedroom already.

Through half lidded eyes he guides himself through this maze of a house, bitter jealousy bubbling in his lungs. It’s such a haunting thought, a looming presence, and he wishes he could push it down the drain but it seems that he can’t. 

“Stupid, stupid Peter…” he mumbles, hand grazing the wall beside him. 

Ned’s voice still rings in his ears, breathy from how he had been exercising for most of the class.

“You don’t know what he looks like- what if he’s like seriously burnt?”

“I wouldn’t care, I would still love him for the person he is on the inside.”

Of course it caught their attention- Peter’s little crush on Liz wasn’t hard for most to notice. 

“Peter knows Spider-Man!”

How horrible. 

Across the room, Y/n’s head snapped to where the pair was on the gym floor- Peter’s jaw slacked. It didn’t matter how much he tried to quickly say otherwise- Flash already had slid down the climbing rope with another remark slick on the edge of his tongue.

And Y/n watched on, eye twitching, feeling how his  friends slapped his arm in amusement. 

“I can’t tell if he’s for real or not-“ F/n mumbled from next to him. Y/n’s eyes never tore away from the scene playing out ahead, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah,” and his eyes squeezed shut, “me neither.”

Y/n’s fists curl together, knuckles scraping the wall for a moment before he’s pulling away.

It’s so frustrating. 

He’s walking further down the corridor, eyes sliding open just in time to catch a door left slightly ajar- and he pauses.

He’s passed the door many times, no doubt, but this time it’s different. There’s something pulling him inside, an unknown source that’s too intriguing to walk past.

Slowly, he pushes open the door. And there it is.

Old bins and cabinets with junk gadgets shoved inside- worn blueprints from his fathers old work. One eyebrow raises, cogs turning and grinding in his head.

There’s some things still in tact, some that have been broken apart and scattered about. Y/n kneels down to observe closer. 

He feels the smooth surface of a metal clasp against his fingertips, grazing the jumbled objects. 

This is his answer.

The backpack slides off his shoulders, thumping on the ground beside him. This room is one that his father doesn’t visit much anymore, now much more caught up in other things such as the Avengers, Peter, the scattered piles of paperwork that seem to constantly consume him.

And in the corner, there’s a bend in the wall partially hidden by a cabinet- if you were to tuck something inside, no one could see from the door frame.

Y/n already feels his mind blooming with ideas as he skims over the various parts and pieces in front of him.

If he can’t live up to his fathers standards, his fathers name, 

then he’ll make his own.

***

Multiple nights pass, weeks go by and Y/n finds himself spending the time after dinner until midnight cooped up in Tony’s old gear room. 

He likes to think it’s a family trait, something tying him to the Stark name, also known as his skill for parts. He can take a few glances at both his own notes as well as the old blueprints and suddenly have the necessary concept for a retractable weapon, built to strike out of an arm piece. And when he’s done, he simply drags it all into his tucked in corner- hidden until night falls again the next day. 

Time not spent at school, occasionally in his room, or in his new lab- is now spent taking full advantage of the gym on the higher floors. 

The Avengers don’t question it, barely even using it at the same time as him anyways. He’s planned it so no one is around to see the training he does, the work put in to not only muscle- but also skill.

He doesn’t have a vigilante name just yet- but perhaps that’s the fun in it. He’s totally anonymous.

And as the firm punching bag jerks beneath his incoming fist, he feels the creeping joy of power.

Y/n puts lots of thought into the first strike against the city- building an elaborate yet somewhat reckless attack plan, a formula. 

No citizen will get hurt- it’s only the churning, growing need for revenge he wants so badly to be satisfied. Among the jumbled emotions, and new discoveries, he knows what he wants, and he knows just who he wants to be.

Y/n Stark may never be the millionaire superhero his father is- but he will be something. Something that no one will ever expect.

***

“A new vigilante seems to be on the loose, unidentified. They’ve struck many times already, but police have noticed that, interestingly enough, among the pattern of crime scenes none of the main public areas or citizens have been hit. Could this be the work of an Anti-hero, perhaps? Down at the Avengers Tow-“ 

The anchorman’s voice is cut off, mid sentence, and Tony holds the remote firmly. 

Around him, on the expensive couches sit the Avengers themselves, but their faces are dulled by distress, their knuckles tense from a firm grip. 

“We gotta find this guy,” Bruce sighs, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. Beside him, Natasha agrees.

“If we don’t catch them soon, people will start doubting us.” She says it like it’s so simple, lips pressed into a thin line. Steve groans.

“They aren’t gonna start doubting us-“ he tries, but no one seems to believe him. 

“Oh really? Sounds like you’ve got some superstar solution then, huh?” Tony, always packed full of sarcasm, looks absolutely exasperated. He’s been looking tirelessly for this new ‘vigilante’ of the sorts - they don’t even seem to have a name. They work quickly and precisely, yet go at it with a powerful vengeance. Their skill- it’s almost something he wants to respect. 

The group begins to speak again, switching between civil turn taking and overlapping words. They don’t even notice the figure standing by the door. 

Y/n peaks his head around the door frame, watching these strong, powerful superheroes stressing over him. Oh, they just have no clue.

As they’re still talking, planning unknowingly within earshot of their own enemy- Y/n takes his notes. He listens, until finally he slips past the door and walks quietly down the hall as the sick, strong feeling of triumph sinks into his stomach. 

He’s got them.

***

The rumbling fill of chaos echoes from all around- machines jittering, codes breaking, and a light flickers down the hall.

Y/n stands at the center of the room, looking around at one of his father’s many warehouses from all around- this one being stationed north of his own home state- Maine, USA.

His dad brought him here only a few times as a kid, once or twice perhaps. He always hated it- still does, actually, hence the small bombs scattered across the place. 

It would be funny, to think that not even the Avengers have caught on to his pattern- but that may be jinxing it. Plus, he knows the common traits of each area he’s hit so far, the places holding the unjust power. This stop, though, he’s been waiting to finally hit.

“Stark Enterprises” - a sign once strung together in big letters, now laying at Y/n’s feet broken into pieces. The boy crouches down, picking up a chunk from the “E” and crushes it in his hands. 

Under his mask, he grins. 

His suit, not quite as advanced as those made by his father, fits him well. The sleeves are tighter, snugly wrapped around his biceps with streaks of purple running through the black material. Padding, like thin layers of armor, protect his torso and the pants are the most loose- cargo, with big pockets.

A mask is what pulls the whole thing together, though, concealing the entirety of his head underneath its black and purple coloring. 

Littering his hands, and even weaved into the material all across, are the gadgets he’s spent so many hours on. Rings sealed into the gloves have enough sharp metal twisted together inside that when activated, spread into blades. In the pocket around his waist band- is a button, the button, that with one push turns this warehouse into a cloud of orange and yellow. 

Y/n is still watching the crumbling sign fall from his palm, like grains of sand, when the door caves in behind him. 

“Put your hands up, tough guy, we caught you.”

Captain America, confident as ever, bursts in at the front of the group with his shield held high. Behind him, Tony, Peter, Natasha and even Bruce waltz right in after him. For a second- a glimmer of pride washes through Y/n’s body, they brought 5 to a fight against 1- he must be special.

“Yeah, times up buddy.”

Seeing his father, dressed in the famous Ironman suit, reminds Y/n of the whole reason this started- and another twisted feeling knots itself in his stomach.

The moment he’s been waiting for.

They can’t see him as he smirks underneath the mask, deciding to toy with them just a bit. He doesn’t speak- no one’s heard his voice when spoken through the filtered material yet. It seems they’ll be the first.

Y/n’s head cocks to the side, and raises an eyebrow- something the Avengers can see through the imprint of his mask. A challenge. 

Bruce’s battle cry cuts through the air- and suddenly the Hulk is charging. It startles Y/n for a moment, but quickly he steps to the side and lets the green giant crush the ground beside him. As Hulk gets back up, snarling and growling, Y/n is already grabbing a long beam, bent from where it fell with the rest of the Stark Enterprise’s sign, and strikes Hulk right in the gut.

The giant man stumbles slightly, yet still stomps forward. But Y/n isn’t in front of him.

“Hulk!” Natasha yells out, watching from across the room as Y/n comes from behind, mid air, wielding the same beam from before. Hulk is barely able to tilt his head an inch before the metal is crashing down into the area just below his head, and bruising his neck. 

He’s out within a few seconds, stumbling around clumsily while black dots tease his vision. Then, he falls to the floor.

“Well shit.” Steve mutters, bending his knees like a bull preparing to charge. He should’ve known sending in Hulk with no preparations would be a bad an idea.

“Sending the big one in first, huh?” Y/n looks at them cockily, “do you see me as a threat, Ironman?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, “oh look at that, he can talk.”  He doesn’t even skip a beat as his suit begins to whir, the arm unfolding so a mini blaster pokes out from the forearm. 

The vigilante barely has time to react as strings of energy are thrown his way, jumping and dodging each of them narrowly. Tony doesn’t wait for him to regain his footing though, flying straight towards his figure.

Steve eyes Natasha, gesturing for her to move. The woman obliges, creeping around the fight so Y/n’s back is in front of her. 

Ironman grabs Y/n by the shoulders, pushing down with such strong force that the latter is forced back a few steps. He holds the metal sleeves with a firm grip, and at first Tony doesn’t notice as the boy’s rings begin to scrape against the surface. Sparks fly like the touch of a welding torch, grazing the edges of Tony’s mask just in time for him to realize mini blades are beginning to prod at his suit. Y/n doesn’t hesitate to take the opportunity and shove the man away from him. 

Natasha watches closely, seeing how Y/n stumbles from the impact. She jumps at him.

Y/n extends his arm in her direction, not even turning all the way around, and his rings grow from small blades to a sharp spiral of metal pointing right at Black Widow’s chest.

She freezes, he smirks.

Of course, it’s not his intention for someone to die. That’s not what he does. This, well, is simply defense.

“How about we get right to the point.” He says, slipping his free hand into one of the pouches around his waist band. Out with it comes a cylinder- black and sleek with some sort of dial built in, a bright red button on top. 

Steve feels his stomach drop. 

“Pick a number.”

Tony, seemingly unaware of the detonator to have just been introduced, rolls his eyes, he’s growing impatient. 

“Alright, fine, 5- you wanna quit it with the games now?”

Big mistake.

Without skipping a step, Y/n is scrolling through digits on the small screen built into the detonator. It’s almost too quick for any of the Avengers to realize what he’s doing- and it’s far too late by the time they do. 

“Alright, then.” Y/n presses the button.

Steve goes to lunge forward, tries to make a grab for the device, but he waited too long. The whole room rattles, and the section just to the left of them suddenly bursts. Bombs. 

Y/n watches with a special glint in his covered eyes as everyone stumbles, yet his feet stay firmly planted in the ground. They’re startled, bits of the wall flying around and clattering against the floor. Peter snaps his head towards Y/n in shock.

“Who’s next?”

“Oh my god.” Peter mumbles, wide eyed. It’s the sound of his voice, his first time saying a word, that catches Y/n’s attention right away.

His teeth grind together, thumb smoothing over the button’s smooth surface. His mind mumbles, Do it again.

Staring into the large white panels of Peter’s mask, his guard is left fallen for just a moment too long. Tony sends one more blast his way. 

A jolt of pain seers through Y/n’s thigh. The energy was strong enough to surpass the material of his pants, leaving a heavy ache in the area. Y/n glares.

“You asshole,” he grunts, spinning the dial with his thumb before slamming down the button.

Above them, part of the ceiling crumbles.

Bits of concrete come tumbling down, Peter and Natasha diving for cover. But Y/n is no where near finished.

“How many bombs are there-“ Peter asks to no one in particular. His question is soon to be answered.

“Let’s not wait to find out,” Steve grunts, sprinting to where his opponent stands at the opposite side of the room. Y/n feels the previous feeling of confidence, the smooth and cocky facade, slipping away. He wants to win.

Each of Captain America’s hits clang against metal couplets clasped to Y/n’s wrist- chaos ensues around them. Tony firing shots, Peter surrounding the fight, Natasha running for a hit at close combat- and hulk just starting to stir from his little nap. 

But Y/n doesn’t let up- not until it’s too late.

A fiery blaze heads straight for him, straight for his face. It’s beginning to sizzle against his ears, he can feel it coming. But he doesn’t react in time, trying to defend himself from too many things at once. 

The blast, coming from his own father’s hand, hits him.

His mask begins to spark, edges curling into themselves as slowly, Y/n feels the right side of his face being revealed. 

His hand meets the wall, holding him up as he recovers from the impact. They haven’t seen him yet. 

He hears Steve’s heavy breathing from behind him, something so familiar it almost tricks his mind. Then, Tony’s voice.

“It only takes a few hits, huh? If I knew that’s all it took I wouldn’t have wasted so much time.”

More sarcasm, Y/n almost laughs.

“Who are you.” Natasha doesn’t even make it sound like a question, her voice strong and firm. 

Silence ensues, just for a moment, Y/n’s head is swimming. 

Yet, over all the thoughts and noise, one thing screams loudest over the rest. 

“Do. It.”

“Don’t you recognize me?” Y/n’s voice, no longer protected by a filter, is raspy and hoarse. He slowly turns around, head peaking out of the shadows.

“You know me already…”

.

.

Holy shit.

A loud clang echoes through the now dead silent room, the red white and silver shield rolling across the floor. 

“…Y/n?” 

Tony’s helmet folds into itself, revealing a sweaty face with wide eyes and a slack jaw. 

A bitter smile is what he receives.

“Dad.”

Tony looks around, dumbfounded. 

“I-“ he stutters, nearly speechless, “what- what the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Y/n steps forward, voice dry yet dripping with venom. 

Tony chokes, “being an absolute moron, that’s what-“

Y/n barks out a rough, quick laugh. “Ooh, rough.” He rasps. Steve steps forward, putting a hand onto Tony’s shoulder and pulling him back. It’s like a warning, silent communication because next, he’s the one to step forward.

“Y/n…” the words die on the tip of his tongue, throat running dry, but he still tries, “what- I mean, why?”

Y/n has begun to pace slightly, taking slow steps around the shocked group. He peels the mask away from his face.

“Yknow, most people tend to turn to the worst of their options when in a dark time,” he says smoothly, feeling each and every set of eyes watching while he walks. Hulk watches through blurred vision, completely disoriented. 

“I mean, hate to give you the classic origin story and everything, but…” 

“Hold on,” the thoughts are almost visible, loud and heavy in Tony’s head, “is this about something I did?”

So he’s finally getting it.

“What could Tony have possibly done?” Asks Natasha, and Y/n looks at his father directly.

“You don’t care, ok, that’s what-“ his voice is breathy, and he scowls, “You can’t even talk to your own kid, Stark. It’s like you don’t realize what I am, to you- what you are to me!” Anger rises with each word that shoots like poison from Y/n’s mouth. 

Tony gets defensive, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “That’s not true, I know damn well you’re my kid-“

“Oh really? Cause you seem to have it a bit mixed up.” Y/n’s eyes flicker to Peter’s frame, and everyone tenses.

“Is…is this about Peter?”

At the mention of his name, Peter tears off his mask, a concerned, heavy look on his face. 

“I, Y/n it’s not like that-“ he tries, only to be interrupted.

“Yknow,” Y/n’s voice sounds so pained, “I always thought maybe you aren’t too upfront with your affection. For years, ok, I would wake up, go to school, come back, and go to bed all without saying more than a few words to you. Years, dad.” A lump is forming in his throat, but it’s too late to turn back now. “But then, out of nowhere, someone else comes into the picture and suddenly you’re taking him to lunch, you’re picking him up from school, basically spending way more time with him, than with me.”

Bold, bitter, and wavering- Y/n doesn’t stop. Even as his father, his classmate, the people he’d grown up with thinking were like family, just watch with feeling burning in their eyes. 

“Y/n,”

“You made it look so easy with him.”

“Hey, kid, c’mon-“

“Are you serious?!” Y/n yells in disbelief. “Are you gonna tell me I’m wrong? Is that it? I’m just exaggerating, or what-“

Tony straightens his posture, swallowing hard. 

Y/n’s face almost crumbles from the way his fathers face wavers. But he just doesn’t stop. 

“You can be the greatest hero in the world,” Y/n breathes, sweat sparkling around the frame of his face, “you can put on a face for the interviews, and train Peter to perfection,” a step closer, “but don’t forget that I’ve always been here too.” 

Y/n’s voice sounds so dark, unfamiliar and breaking, it’s gone raspy from the pounding drum of his heart beat. 

Ringing silence once more. 6 melting souls standing in the waste of their own troubles. 

Y/n feels budding tears threatening to spill.

“And now look what we’ve done.” 

[dangermousie]

hello! feel free to delete, if it's not to your taste.

so i just started watching kdramas and my first one was the glory because it's a lot to my taste (song hye kyo yum +revenge + plotting) and i'd love if you could give me similar recs? i also liked reborn rich but it's put off until i finish the webtoon!

thank you for listening!

You are very welcome!

I am afraid I can't be super helpful because modern revenge tales with low romance aren't super my thing - I didn't finish Reborn Rich and never even checked out The Glory. But I do have some recs.

The ones that come to mind are:

Mawang/The Devil/Lucifer (2007) - this one is a masterpiece. A series of seemingly random killings bring together a hot headed cop, an icy lawyer and a librarian who has the power of seeing the past of an object she touches. This is not a serial killer drama (or a procedural) - it's an intricate, impeccably written, tragic tale of past and long-plotted revenge. It's in my Top 5 dramas.

Resurrection - This one is def old (2005) but a really good tale of revenge and family secrets.

Again My Life (2022) - it's sort of an off-brand Reborn Rich where our protag, a prosecutor played by Lee Jun Ki, is killed but wakes up in his law school days and tries to find out what happened to him. Just as with RR, it wasn't able to hold my attention so I peaced out but it's certainly rather similar in set up.

This is not filet mignon but rather addictive fast food, but if what you have a hankering for ladies seeking and getting revenge on those who wronged them, Marry My Husband (2024) and Perfect Marriage Revenge (2023) are delightful fun about women who have been wronged by their spouses and families but get a second chance after death to return back to X time before their death and put their life on track/get revenge.

Nice Guy/Innocent Man (2012) is an older drama that I am quite fond of, though it is rather romance heavy. Our ML (played by Song Joong Ki of RR) ends up being used and betrayed by his evil gf who wrecks his life and then marries some rich dude. After he comes out of jail, he seeks revenge on her and involves her prickly same-age stepdaughter in it etc etc. It's great and a fave and written by the amazing Lee Kyung Hee, one of my fave screenwriters, but once again, it is more about dysfunctional people than revenge per se.

I am gonna throw this open to my followers and see if anyone has any more recs!

ETA: there are way more recs in comments including mine because I apparently can remember things only after I click post (not sure why I called you Anon tho sorry, I think it’s because I used to have Anon asks on and mostly got those.)

[dr-shortsighted-owl]

The universe is going to catch you (A 6a re-write) 👀 tell more please

Thank you for the ask and the curiosity!

I'm gonna also use this for Tease TidBit Tuesday!

SO! This idea started when we were getting epsiode titles for season 6A. After they were changed (I remember at one point one of the titles was pilgrimage, and that made my brain buzz) and we started seeing the epsiodes air live, I was listening to a lot of song by the band 'The Antlers' and the song 'The Universe is going to catch you' really resonated with me as a Buck song. It has a lot of Buck introspection, A buck and our buck having some very similar plot beats, and Buck running from the universe, and the life he had made (if only for a short time). Buck being the one to run, not stay, just made my brain itch and I needed to write...

The caller is still on the scene when Buck exits the truck - ejecting himself out before anyone can speak to him. A volunteer ranger, his shirt embroidered with the parks name and a small stylised forest, greets him shakily. The man’s face is pale, voice stuttering as he leads them to the wreck.  A blue four-by-four, or what’s left of it, is wrapped around the truck of a large redwood, crumpled like a tin can someone’s booted down the street.  There’s a trail of blood smeared across the accordianed metal, and a pool by the the front tyres that disappears back into the tree line in drips and drabs.  A younger stag, the ranger says, had ran into the road. But he’s sure nothing was chasing it, since the rest of the herd never even flinched.  “I just don’t understand it - that deer was with its usual grouping, a stag and an fawn, and it just started to run like the devil was after him. The poor fawn didn’t even realise he’d gone. That family unit had been inseparable, the fawns mother was killed not too long ago but the other male came and joined them, his father never challenged him.”

The ranger rubs a hand across his face, emotions playing over each feature before he looks back at Buck, eyes red-rimmed.

"They got real close after a rocky start, those two stags - that male wouldn't leave him even after the older one took a shoulder full o' buck shot. Stayed with the fawn and wouldn’t move for anything. He’s been acting strange for days now, maybe a few weeks even, he just up and ran. And then he turned, went running back to his boys. The car got him. " In the distance, they could all hear it - the high mewing of the young fawn, cutting through the mournful bellows of its father deeper in the forest.  And for a moment, Buck feels something for an animal he only tangentially shares a name with.

Tagging: @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @elvensorceress @bigfootsmom

@mellaithwen @try-set-me-on-fire @homerforsure @rogerzsteven @spotsandsocks

@ronordmann @honestlydarkprincess @wikiangela @thekristen999 @indigo2831

@loserdiaz @bekkachaos @rewritetheending @chaosandwolves @starlingbite

@the-likesofus @kananjarus @devirnis @fiona-fififi @bidisasterevankinard

[moonlight-prose]

LOVE IS STRANGE

➛ chapter one

a/n: after nearly a year later since i first posted this fics masterlist, i have finally begun writing it!! i have plotted the entirety of it, so hopefully chapters go swiftly. i saw top gun maverick for this man and now i'm finally writing his fic. i hope y'all enjoy!

note: a massive thank you to @bvckysmoon for beta reading this chapter!! you're the absolute best babes!🖤

summary: you came to fightertown to escape, but run right into him.

word count: 5.6k+

pairing: mickey 'fanboy' garcia x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, parent death, grief, flirting, fluff, minor injuries, fanboy being a nervous wreck, cute as fuck nerds.

next chapter | series masterlist

The situation could have been better. Music played softly on the radio, a soft Spanish song you seemed to replay whenever you needed something to calm your nerves. Although what did you have to be nervous about? You’d been here before, once when you were a child with your mother, but this was different.

This was simply a different version of running away from your problems. Or fears rather.

You turned onto the street, staring at the address you’d written haphazardly on a napkin—the very same one clutched in your right hand. The ink bled outward, smudging the numbers slightly, but you could still make them out. It seemed that every house you saw was in pristine condition. Not even a single blade of grass was out of place—the white paint on most places so blinding as it reflected the late afternoon sun.

“C’mon,” you muttered, squinting against the sunlight to see the number clearer.

Five seconds later you were slamming on the brakes, jolting the car as you pulled over the side, finally in the right spot. For a moment you leaned back in the seat, staring at the beautiful property that you had been to once. You could recall the memory of music pouring out the front door, a woman laughing with your mother, and the smell of barbecue.

It had been decades since you’d even heard from the woman, but your mother always kept her close. A friend that she didn’t have to see everyday to know better than her own self. You could remember the holiday cards coming in the mail and letters they’d exchanged over the years. Your mother’s name written in slightly messy cursive handwriting—always managing to bring a smile to her face when she saw the pretty white envelopes.

That is until she pulled out the letter, saw the different stains of coffee that marked the pages, and laughed. You smiled at the memory, eyes misting over as you stared at the house—the song eventually fading to and end in the background.

“Okay,” you sighed, pulling the key out of the ignition and grabbing your purse.

Penny Benjamin certainly had her life together, living by the ocean with her daughter and running a bar. When you called her two weeks ago asking for a place to stay, she offered up her guest bedroom faster than you could explain why. Her reasoning was that she’d practically been the aunt you rarely got to see. Still a part of her family even though you were hours away. So you took her up on her offer and packed your small car the best you could.

At least to survive the summer out here in San Diego. Or as she affectionately referred to it—Fightertown.

The porch creaked slightly as you walked up the steps, your hand clutching your bag as if it were your lifeline. You prepared yourself to knock, unsure of what would happen when that door finally opened, but your eyes caught sight of a paper taped to the screen. Penny’s handwriting scrawled on the front. You half expected to see your mom’s name on the paper, but this time it was yours.

That alone nearly made you jolt in shock.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to welcome you to the house sweetie. I was needed down at Amelia’s school today. Apparently my daughter hasn’t been entirely honest with me about her grades so far. The key is under the turtle. If you recognize it then you’re right, you did make it in middle school. Your mom sent it to me as a birthday gift, claiming that you would be the next best artist the world has ever seen.

She was right.

If I’m not home later then I’ll be at the Hard Deck (the bar). The address is below. You’re welcome to start working any time!

-Penny

You smiled, glancing down at the oddly shaped turtle you had spent days on in art class. It was meant to go to your mom as a gift, but the clay seemed to have different opinions, part of the turtle’s foot having fallen off as you carried it home.

Picking it up, you felt the rough exterior of the pain beginning to wear off, the silver key placed neatly beneath it. The door swung open with a slight squeak, finally revealing the interior that definitely didn’t match the exterior. You caught sight of photos you’d taken through the years hung up on the walls, pictures of a young girl you knew to be Amelia and Penny beside them. You even noticed a small framed picture of you and your mom on the mantle.

It seemed that Penny had always been a part of your family. You just hadn’t been aware of how much.

You soon began to realize that the house was a small two story place that held a modicum of comfort that left you wanting to curl up in the guest room’s bed and never come out. It was certainly a vibe you found yourself falling in love with. Penny had placed small notes for you throughout. Directions on where the guest room was—on the button floor near the kitchen—and how to get to the beach if you wanted to explore.

Dragging your bags to the relatively large room, you caught sight of yet another photo you’d taken for a class years ago, hanging by the small desk by the window. The sight of your work displayed with such precious care throughout her house nearly made you tear up. Given that you had made the choice to come here after making your decision.

“Hey mom,” you whispered, pulling out the small portrait you had of her and placing it on the bedside table. “I made it.”

Penny’s note about how to get to the beach was still clutched in your palm. Half of you wanted to stay here, wait for her to get back so you could speak. But the other half genuinely wanted to see what was out there. Honestly you really just wanted to see the ocean again after having been away from it for so long, the sea salt air permeating your lungs the second you drove into town.

You dropped the note on the bed, placed the key on your favorite key ring, and changed.

Running along the beach in the late afternoon seemed to be just what you needed to get out of your own head. People milled about, some with families some without, but thankfully it seemed that most had left already to continue their day. Either that or begin plans for their night.

You inhaled and exhaled, feeling the burn go down your legs as you pushed yourself past the limit, aching for either a cup of coffee or a good lunch. You’d go in search of both as soon as you were done. The waves crashed softly on the shore, becoming background noise to your breaths; a lulling echo that you found you loved each time you were here. Your tennis shoes were slightly soaked as you ran through the water, but you didn’t mind.

Not with a view like that beside you.

To you…it was priceless. You only wished you had brought your camera with you, but the sharp sting of why you didn’t shot through you once more. Reminding you of why you were running in the first place.

Your headphones died halfway through the run—now strung around your neck—and you were half tempted to head into a local shop just to buy a cheap pair. But you did your best to focus on the sounds of the ocean. The steady rhythm of nature around you. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. You were breathing so hard your lungs started to hurt, but still you pushed past it. Seeing the end of the shore in sight; your stopping point barely twenty feet away.

Finally, you’d get some sweet relief.

Or a coffee. Which amounted to both in your case.

So focused on counting your breaths and listening to the waves you didn’t see the person running straight at you. The expression on his face made it clear that he didn’t see you in his path either until the very last second. In which you both swerved, him to the left and you to right, causing your foot to slide on the wet sand. A sharp pain shot up your thigh and you cried out as fell forward, fully expecting to hit the sand hard. Thankfully his hands quickly grabbed a hold of your wrists, steadying you the best he could.

“Fuck are you okay?” he asked, ripping the headphones from his ears and helping you back to your feet. Well…as much as you could stand on a most likely twisted ankle.

“Yeah.” You bit back a groan at the stabbing pain that continued to go up your leg. “Just slipped.”

“Shit.” He helped you sit on the dry part of the sand, crouching down beside you. “I didn’t see you. I tried to move but I couldn’t get my foot out of the sand.”

You laughed, shutting your eyes for some reprieve. “Me too.”

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to your leg and you nodded without a second of hesitation.

He pressed lightly against your ankle, causing you to hiss in pain as he inspected the injury—his eyebrows pulling together with worry. You hoped it wasn’t twisted or sprained, knowing that tonight you were meant to start working with Penny. You were either screwed or would become the world’s first sitting bartender. That idea you had to laugh at.

He managed to shift your foot without any further pain, reigniting hope in your chest. Maybe you were fine. Maybe you’d actually get through this day without anything else happening. Although knowing how popular small town bars were—how busy they got—you were probably better off with it being twisted.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” he said, pressing his thumb along the bone. “I’m guessing you just shifted on it the wrong way.”

“My lucky day.” You didn’t mean for the words to sound snarky, but it was too late to take them back.

He cringed, standing up and running a hand along the top of his buzzed haircut. You could barely see him with the sun casting a heavy glow around his form, but what you could see took your damn breath away. He stood shirtless, practically dripping in sweat that trailed down his abs. It didn’t help that his shorts hung low on his hips, revealing dips that made your heart race.

Really it was unfair to see how fit he was. You only ran a few weeks a year, whereas he looked like he ran multiple times a day. The man looked like a god, or at least he was shaped like one.

Shifting your gaze upwards to his face before your mind could wander further, you felt your heart flutter at the sight of his face filled with worry. After so long on your own you forgot what that felt like.

Having someone worry about you.

Granted he didn’t know who you were, and you’d probably never see him again in your life. But it was nice to dream.

While you wanted to remain there with him, you knew that sooner or later you’d have to find Penny. If anything, you had to get ready to start your new job. You took the hand he offered to help you stand, wincing slightly as you put pressure on your foot. Thankfully the pain was subsiding slowly; the short break you needed helped somewhat. But you could already tell it would form into an irritating ache later in the night.

Even when you were settled on your feet and successfully ignoring the pain, he still didn’t let go. You had half a mind to ask for his number, or even just his name, but your short lived stay here shoved its way to the forefront of your mind.

You wouldn’t be here long enough to get to know him. So you didn’t bother in the first place.

“Thanks for…” You gestured to your ankle, letting go of his hand, missing how the warmth of it felt nice against your own.

He smiled, a sight that captured you so fiercely you thought you’d never be able to head back after this. Why did he have to be so fucking pretty? It would make forgetting about your small encounter harder. You knew he’d probably have you out of his mind the second he left, so you attempted to do the same thing. Whoever he was would simply be a passing memory. Something nice to look back on in the future.

“You can’t thank me for that,” he said. If you weren’t mistaken you could see a faint red stain on his cheeks as he averted his gaze to the pier. “I was the cause of it. So it feels unfair.”

“Okay…” You wiped the sweat off your forehead. “How about a thanks till we’re even?”

Once again the smile was back, replacing his frown—much to your delight. “How would we get even?”

You shrugged. “We’ll see if I hurt you in the future.”

“Does that mean I’ll see you again?”

“Who knows,” you called out, walking up towards the street. His gaze trailed after you, until you disappeared in the distance, leaving him standing there.

You headed towards Penny’s house, feeling the pain lessen with each step. You should have asked him for his name and number, but you figured if you were meant to see him again, you’d happen upon him before your stay came to an end. However the chances of that happening were slim to none. Which left you with merely the hope of the universe working in your favor.

The sight of the house left you with a feeling of relief. You regretted not taking your car to the beach, figuring it wasn’t that far, but your ankle throbbed painfully by the time you reached her porch. Your keychain jingling loudly as you opened the door.

The lack of noise in the house told you Penny must have headed straight to the bar. Which gave you the option to shower, rest, and dig through your suitcase for clothes. You weren’t entirely equipped with a wardrobe that catered towards the beach, sun, and sand. You were geared more towards city life than oceanside.

When you told Penny that you wanted to work, explaining how you bartended whilst getting your bachelors degree, she was more than happy to offer a job at the Hard Deck. Penny claimed it wasn’t too bad once you got the hang of things—words that you were currently living by.

You simply have to hold her to that when tonight rolled around.

Okay…so she kind of lied.

When you arrived, you barely had time to give her a quick hug, say a joy filled hello, before she was called away and you were thrown into the chaos. For an hour you’d been serving person after person, the crowd only getting bigger as the sun began to dip below the horizon; the night life emerging after a day of hibernating. Penny nudged you gently every time she passed you, the smile on her face just as bright as you remembered.

You spotted some men in uniform playing darts in the corner. Navy by the looks of things. You knew they had a base around here—having visited as a kid beforehand—but this was your first time seeing them in person.

Wiping down the bartop, you let go of the breath you were holding, preparing for the next waves of people to walk through the door and order who knows what. Beers were the main drink of the night—the stock being depleted within the first hour. Penny had gone into the back to bring out a few more boxes—tasking a man in uniform to follow her. So, you waited for her return, leaning your hip against the bar and wiping the sweat off your neck.

“Has anyone told you that you are beautiful?”

You turned, catching the gaze of the Naval officer from earlier, his blonde hair styled a little too perfectly and his smile nearly blinding. He looked like the human version of a Ken doll. In a good way. The man from earlier flashing in your mind as you tried to come up with something clever to say in return. You wondered if he too was a part of the Navy. Was he preparing for a missing or training?

Really you didn’t know enough about the Navy to actually form a coherent opinion on them. You only knew what Penny told you over the phone.

You smiled, attempting to come off as somewhat grateful for his compliment. “I would say you were the first, but then I’d be lying.”

He laughed immaculately—his demeanor telling you he knew how good he looked—and you tried not to compare him to the man from the beach. Who knows when you’d see him again—if ever—and here was another handsome man in front of you. Clearly interested. So why couldn’t you flirt back? It’s not like you didn’t know how to do it. You were mildly competent at the game, having snapped a few dates in your lifetime, but tonight you felt off.

As if you could practically see right through the man in front of you.

“How’d you end up working here?” he asked, leaning on the bar in an attempt to get close to you.

“Oh…uh…Penny’s my mom’s friend.” You drummed your nails against the bar.

His smile deepened, revealing dimpled lines that made him look…cute. “I was about to say. I’ve been here before and I would have definitely recognized you.”

“Ah well…it’s my first night working here.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. “I guess it’s my lucky night.”

You opened your mouth to respond, ready to say you weren’t interested in starting something right now, when the doors swung open and the next wave of customers hit. People poured in, finding spots at the bar and tables around the outskirts of the already crowded place. What caught your eye first was the woman in the exact same khaki uniform, leading two other men towards the pool table.

You nearly missed him due to someone asking for a beer, but there he was—standing in a Navy uniform and stopping right beside the blonde man who’s name you didn’t other asking for.

“Hi,” you said, sounding a bit too breathless. You just met the man and yet there you were acting like a lovesick woman.

The smile that had embedded its way into your mind showed up again as he stepped closer to the bar—closer to you. “Hi. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Small word I guess.”

He chuckled softly, your heart flipping in your chest at the sound. “Really small.”

“Do you two know each other?”

You forgot he was even there. “Not really. He helped me out with an injury earlier today.”

“More like caused it,” he exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t exactly say it was your fault. More like…it was the sand's fault.”

His smile grew, brown eyes lighting up. “I personally don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.”

“Did you just…quote Anakin Skywalker?”

“Would you be mad if I did?”

If it was possible your heart sped up even more.

You shook your head, handing off a beer to the person that asked. “How could I be mad at a fellow Star Wars fan?”

The look in his eyes set you alight with a new type of nervousness. You’d flirted before, having proved it slightly with the other man—who was nowhere to be found—but this was a whole new playing field. It felt as if he was seeing right through your cool demeanor and viewing your thoughts like a novel. It should have unnerved you—left you vulnerable in some way—yet you found you didn’t mind it.

You blamed it on his brown eyes. They held an element of sweetness to them that made your brain go blank the longer he looked at you.

Penny’s hand on your shoulder made you jump. “How are you doing?” she asked over the noise.

You nodded. “It’s pretty chaotic, but I’ve got it handled.”

“Yeah there’s quite a crowd tonight. Think you can stay a bit longer tonight?”

“I’m here as long as you need me.”

“Good, because we’ve got guests,” she replied, pointing to the group of Naval officers laughing together.

It looked like you wouldn’t get a moment of peace until the night died down. So, you turned back to him, giving him what you hoped was a flirty smile, and slid a beer across the bar his way.

“Hey Fanboy!” A woman called, her hand gesturing for him to come join them.

Your eyebrows raised at the nickname. “Fanboy?”

He shrugged, his cheeks flushing red just as they had on the beach. “It’s my callsign.”

“You’re a pilot!” you exclaimed. The realization dawned on you slower than you expected it too, given that the uniform he was wearing should have given it away.

“Yes ma’am. Well I’m a WSO.”

The title sounded vaguely familiar. “You sit in the backseat right?”

He nodded. “Weapons system officer, yeah.”

“Can I ask where Fanboy came from?” You wished you had more time to talk with him, already enraptured by the way he spoke—the nervousness he exuded that was just as palpable as yours. Except you could see more people cramming their way to the bar and knew you’d be called away sooner than you hoped.

He laughed, taking a sip of the beer. “I’m a fan I guess,” he replied. “It’ll take a bit to explain.”

Just as you predicted, Penny called your name from the other end of the bar. You came into this job with her saying the Hard Deck was a popular place, but you didn’t anticipate just how popular it was. The people you now recognized as pilots were everywhere; their uniforms pressed and perfect. They looked more put together than you ever had in your life, but you supposed that’s where your differences lie.

They knew what they wanted out of life, while you hardly knew how to navigate life at all.

“How about a name then?” you asked, hoping that it came with a number you could call.

“Mickey.” He stuck his hand out. “Mickey Garcia.”

You shook it, remembering how it felt from earlier. “As in Sylvia and Mickey?”

Once more you were awarded with another laugh that sent heat creeping up into your face. “I guess so. Yeah.”

Penny called you again, gesturing for you to cut the conversation short and help her with the overwhelming amount of people. You quickly turned back to him, catching him staring at you not so subtly, which earned you another chance to see his cheeks turn red. You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy that sight more than you should. A man had never blushed in front of you before him. Well actually…a man had never been interested in actually talking to you long enough for you to get him to blush.

“I’m impressed,” you said, handing off two more beers. “You sat through Dirty Dancing long enough to know who I’m talking about.”

Again he laughed and you yearned for the entire bar to empty out, leaving only you and him. “Dirty Dancing is a classic. It would be rude to not watch the whole thing in one sitting.”

Oh…this man was dangerous.

You were only here for a short time. Which meant you couldn’t go falling head over heels in love with an airman you just met that morning, but there you were. Attached to every word he said and hoping he’d say more.

A woman appeared at his side, her arm falling to rest on his shoulder. “If you’re done flirting Fanboy, we’re over there playing pool.”

The tops of his ears turned red, eyes averting to the smirk she wore—as if she’d just caught him red handed. “I’ll be over there soon.”

Her grin grew wider, eyes alight with a mischief that seemed to only make her beauty grow. “Better hurry. Payback’s laying down bets. Claims he’s going to kick your ass.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please. He knows needs me on his side.”

“I don’t know,” she sang, grabbing the beers Penny had placed on the bar for her, and turning back towards the loud group.

“You should go,” you said, drawing his gaze back to you. “They’re waiting.”

“They can wait some more.”

Heat spilled into your chest, spreading down towards your stomach. You’d never been so attracted to someone before. Never felt as if the world was being pulled to a stop, giving you two all the time you could have wanted to get to know one another. You didn’t want him to go either, but time didn’t seem to be on either of your sides tonight. His callsign was called again, breaking up the small moment you two shared.

“Go.” You put another beer in front of him, the condensation turning your hand cold. “Besides, resistance is futile. So sooner or later you’re gonna have to go over there.”

His eyes widened slightly, mouth parting as the words registered in his mind. Except before he could comment, someone was slinging their arm around his shoulder and tugging on him. Claiming that he couldn’t win without his WSO by his side. You figured the man currently dragging a reluctant Mickey away was Payback.

Before you could catch his eye again, you turned back to Penny who was currently overwhelmed by the amount of people placing orders. She handed off the small notepad full of who wanted what to you before moving to the small bell that hung in the center of the bar. The loud ringing sending up a raucous cheer that nearly deafened you. Yet in the middle of all that noise, your eyes caught his again, his smile even brighter than before.

“I think I’m gonna collapse,” you sighed, falling onto the stool, a glass of ice water in front of you.

Penny chuckled, popping open two beers and handing one off to you. “Welcome to life in Fightertown. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to greet you.”

You waved her off. “It’s fine. I found my way around just fine.”

“Still. I should have been there. If anything to tell you I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, taking a sip and letting the cold liquid wash down your throat.

She smiled, the crinkles by her eyes reminding you of your mom’s. “How are you doing? Since the decision and the…funeral.”

The inevitable conversation had finally come up, but you knew you couldn’t run from it forever. Not with Penny. Not after she’d been there for you through it all. You could remember the day a bit too clearly. The tears, the numbness, how Penny reintroduced herself into your life and took on the role your mother couldn’t anymore. She took you in with open arms, called you every week to check in, and even sent you small things in the mail to make sure you smiled.

You’d never be able to express to her how truly grateful you were.

“The decision was hard.” You took another sip. “But it was the right choice for me.”

“I’m glad.”

“At least when I go back I’ll know it’ll be because I wanted to.”

She nodded, clearly in agreement. “That’s all I want for you.” Another beat passed before she grinned, lifting the bottle to her lips. “It seems like someone was particularly smitten with you tonight.”

And just like that…the heat curled in your body again. Winding its way through your nervous system and setting you alight.

“Oh…he’s not. We’re not…I met him earlier today at the beach.”

“Right.” She pointed outside, to the back deck. “He’s been waiting out there for you since I rang for last call. Figured he’d come in by now.”

Your eyes darted to the glass doors, and sure enough there he stood. Holding a beer that had probably gone warm and nervously tapping his fingers against the deck railing. Penny watched for your reaction, but you couldn't hide the lovesick look in your eyes. The longing you felt in your heart. How did a man you met mere hours ago have such a hold over you? You were half tempted to ask her the question, but she was already moving away, humming a tune under her breath as she drank her beer.

Finding the courage within yourself, you headed towards the back, opening the door and watching as he whirled around. His eyes were wide, mouth opening and closing, but then he caught sight of your smile and relaxed slightly.

“Last call was twenty minutes ago,” you said, joining him outside, feeling the cool breeze wash across your skin.

A huff of laughter left his lips. “Yeah I was…”

“Waiting for me?” you mused, craving that blush you knew would come across his cheeks.

“Is that weird?”

You shook your head. “I’m glad you waited.”

“Yeah?” He had a look in his eyes, all encompassing and warm. Something you wanted to sink into, drown beneath. You wondered if he’d let you. “Can I walk you home?” he asked, his eyes quickly stealing a glance at your lips.

A pause of silence took over the space between you, but it didn’t feel awkward. Somehow everything that happened so far between the two of you felt…natural. Like you’d known each other for years, barely coming back together once more now. You wanted as much time with him as you could have. Stealing moments and locking them in your mind for when you would eventually leave.

“It’s only fair,” you finally said, eyes tracing the curve of his cheekbones. “Since you partially injured me earlier.”

He laughed, his body relaxing against the railing. “I have to make sure you get home safe.” He glanced up at you through his lashes; your heart sped up to an intensity that stole your breath away.

“Let me just grab my bag.”

You grabbed the half full beer bottle he still held and took it with you—feeling his eyes trail after you like earlier. A part of you wanted to sprint in and grab what you needed, but you knew it would only make you look a little too eager. Even if you were sure he felt the same, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. Falling and nearly twisting your ankle was enough for one day.

“Lead the way,” he said, giving you space to walk past him as he followed you into the street.

A single street lamp flickered as you walked by, keeping a slow pace with Mickey as a chance to prolong the time you had with him. Eventually you’d have to go home, return to the guest bedroom, and restart the day over again. But for now you were content to remain there, walking along the yellow lit street, your hand brushing against his.

“I heard—when you were talking to Hangman—that it was your first night working at the bar?”

“His callsign is Hangman?” You snorted. “No you know what…that fits. But yes. It was my first night. I arrived in town earlier today.”

“So definitely not here for a vacation,” he joked, his knuckles brushing along yours. You wanted to take his hand in yours, to feel that addicting warmth you already longed for. Something about him made you feel like yourself for the first time in months and you didn’t want to lose that feeling.

“No. More like I’m…hiding out here.”

“From what?” he murmured.

“Life.”

You stopped in front of Penny’s house, admiring how he looked beneath the street lamp. How the shadows made his jaw even sharper. Except you continued to be drawn back to his eyes—the brown holding you captive.

“I know what that’s like,” he said softly. “You found a good place to hide.”

Smiling, you rummaged through your bag for the familiar keychain you bought yourself in college. Mickey’s eyes went straight to it. The surprise in his eyes from earlier returning, followed by a slight smile.

“I knew it,” he said, pointing to the Starfleet symbol. “What you said earlier. I wasn’t sure if you were actually…”

“A Star Trek fan?” you inquired, head tilting at his enthusiasm. “I’ve been one since I was a kid. Well at least since I first saw Captain Janeway being a badass on my t.v. screen.”

Mickey could have fallen in love then and there. His heart raced, just as yours did, breath leaving his lungs faster than he could keep it. You waited, holding your breath slightly as his mouth opened. The words forming on his tongue. You wanted to ask more about his callsign. The story behind how he got it, but watching his excitement at your keychain gave you enough of an idea.

“Would you…uh…” He took a breath, letting it out quickly before starting over. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Your heart soared, body flushing with that now familiar warmth until you swore you could feel it in the tips of your fingers. Perhaps falling head over heels for a pilot wasn’t such a bad idea this summer. For the first time in months you didn’t think about grad school, you didn’t stress over what came next in life. Because you were here, and he was looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky.

“I’d love to.”

[annwrites]

Really loved your Billy ff 😔pls dont Stop writing for him, youre so good🗣️

I'm so glad you liked it!

And I'd like to continue writing for his character, but the only idea I have atm is a rockstar!billy au, but as I don't have wifi where I live, I really need to be somewhere with it & on a computer, so I can start doing research for it.

Like, venues during that time, hotels, other bands, the typical makeup of an 80s rock band, what made them successful, the layout of their songs & albums, instruments, tour busses, what a typical tour looked like, etc.

If I follow through, it's going to be a lot of work. But it might be fun. If I can plot anything more out than the handful of scene ideas I have in my head, that is.

Ok, I'm putting this under the cut bc someone is gonna be curious about my ideas and I'm always so eager to share lol:

I plan for there to be a love triangle. I did make another post detailing a bit of what reader & Billy's first time meeting might go like.

Long story short, she ends up going on tour with them as like...not a groupie, bc she def doesn't identify as that. Just... She's there bc Billy wants her there. But bc he's (in this fic) an addict, an asshole, a man-whore, a rock god, etc, she refuses to just give into what he wants.

When something more does finally happen, I have an idea for a scene where she comes to his hotel unexpectedly, like a day early, and finds him in a compromising position with 2 girls. Having sex with one, snorting coke off the other. She goes to leave, to go home permanently, vowing that she's done for good, but the lead guitarist stops her and professes his love for her. And bc she's an emotional wreck, she gets into bed with him.

And after... Things get messy. Like, Billy & the guitarist already dislike one another (honestly, think Billy Dunne & Eddie Roundtree from Daisy Jones if you want an idea of the relationship), but BOY do things get amped up the next morning when one of the other band members asks where reader is, as she was supposed to be in by that morning &

guitarist is all: "she's in bed".

Billy: "the hell did you just say?"

Guitarist: "Yeah, she's asleep in my room. Guess she got tired after last night. We were up pretty late."

Billy ofc knows wtf he's implying & loses it. Idk, maybe he breaks a guitar or something.

But, she develops feelings for the guitarist, but bc the fic is about Billy... That's who it will always be for her. Him.

I have a scene written where the band manager tries to pay her off to get her out of the picture—as he can see things slowly starting to now come apart at the seams—that I plan to eventually share as a lil sneak peak, I think lol.

[paracosmic-murdock]

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 4: "Les mots de Whistledown"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: While the other ladies have grown with the mindset of marrying and having children, you, as the daughter of a man who wanted a son, grew up being both. You learnt how to embroider, play the pianoforte, fence and manage the estate. However, there were some things that not even the Duke of Burgundy could do, so after he passed and you thought there was nothing left for you, you decided to move to London for a while and go to the Royal Academy of Art.

Nothing was going to keep you from what you wanted, and you would do whatever it takes: you would lie to everyone, you would live to death, you would pretend to be a man. You had a plan and it would be a piece of cake for you. But again, when has something that she wants and should not do easy for a woman? Especially when a man like Benedict Bridgerton gets in the way in more ways than one.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, love triangles (but not really), lgbtq+ themes, bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: After enough days hiding in plain view, your arrival in London gets announced by Lady Whistledown. Its consequences—dozens of suitors— wrecked your plans for the day, but the dinner at the Bridgerton home wasn't one of those, but unfortunately, there is one Bridgerton brother you are still yet to meet.

Word count: 3.7K

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❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

Dearest gentle reader,

It is this author's duty to keep you informed of the most important news, and it mortified me to not have a positive thing to notify you of in recent times. However, it has come to my attention that there is a charmant new arrival in town.

Walls have ears, doors have eyes, trees have voices, and so do I, and we all have gathered here to tell you, dear reader, that the distinguished Lady Y/N of Burgundy, daughter of the late Duke of Burgundy, took a trip from France to delight us with her presence.

By now, you are sure I cannot grant you incomplete information here, so I must let you know that Lady Y/N is nothing but grace, elegance, kindness and virtue in the flesh. If she had arrived at the beginning of the Season, and we could count on Her Majesty's judgment to be correct, she would have been named the Queen's diamond.

That takes us, dear reader, to our next topic of conversation in this issue, a matter most must be pondering about. Surely, there is a reason for her to be in London, and do not think for a second your beloved author will leave you in the dark any longer: she is looking for a husband!

Now, I plead the gentlemen of the Ton not to get eager, for there are certain requirements you must possess in order to even consider courting her: heart, wealth, face, and brains!

If you are a respectable gentleman and consider yourself not only in possession of those requirements, but also worthy of her, do not hesitate to pay Lady Y/N a visit at the Carrington Mansion.

And a little help: it seems like she is quite the emerald enthusiast.

Sincerely yours,

Lady Whistledown.

"Mama! Your dearest Lady Y/N is on today's issue of Lady Whistledown!" Eloise yelled after reading the paper.

Violet Bridgerton frowned. "Is she really?"

Eloise nodded eagerly, starting to read the article out loud to her mother and some of her siblings that were in the room.

"Is she to be a duchess, then?" Hyacinth asked.

"That is not how it works, Sister." Anthony said.

"Is she pretty?" Colin questioned.

"Oh, she is." Benedict answered to Colin with a smirk.

"You know her?" Eloise looked at her brother wide-eyed.

"The director of the Academy, Lord Carrington, is her godfather. I even painted her portrait the day before yesterday," he explained. "How do you know her?"

"Her father was friends of your father and I," Violet replied. "I reunited with her at Lady Danbury's first, but yesterday, Eloise and I were at the Modiste and saw her again."

Benedict smiled and stood up with a groan, hoping that maybe you would go to the Academy today for whatever reason. "I am off to the Academy!"

Lady Bridgerton shook her head at her son. "If you or your brother try to get close to her, let me warn you that you shall only do so if you have the best of intentions."

"Did you know she was the one to send those cufflinks you're wearing, Brother?" Eloise questioned, looking at him attentively as he admired the precious emeralds adorning the cuffs of his shirt. Even after so many years, he still wore them from time to time.

"Oh, is she also the one who sent us wine a couple years ago?"

"Yes, it was her," His mother gave him a quick glance. "You should know that the wine came with a heartfelt letter thanking me for the condolences I sent for her father's death, so you must not mention that to her during dinner tonight."

"Is she coming tonight?!"

"Yes, Sister, my mother invited her for dinner," Eloise told Hyacinth. "Although, I fear she might not come when she hears that both Colin and Benedict have their intentions set on courting her."

"Benedict is not going to court her," Colin stated, ignoring where his brother was the past afternoon. "And I cannot conceive the idea of her ignoring me! I've got the heart, the wealth, the brains and the hair!"

"Heart, wealth, face and brains." Eloise corrected him.

"The great hair is surely a bonus point in my favor, is it not?"

Hyacinth laughed. "You don't even know her!"

"I have heard enough." He smiled.

"What could Lady Whistledown even know anyway? Y/N arrived just a few days ago, and for Whistledown to say such amazing things about her, it would mean they have known each other for a while or simply Y/N did something nice for Whistledown, doesn't it?" Eloise theorized. She gave it a thought in silence and then ran to her room.

"She is everything Lady Whistledown says," Lady Bridgerton commented, giving Colin a serious look. "She is also self-righteous, obedient, honest, and service-oriented. She would make such a lovely wife… But as I just said, if you do not have the best intentions, Colin Bridgerton, don't you dare get near her."

"You are taking all the fun out of it, now I think I do not want her anymore."

"Good."

Hyacinth looked at the scene in amusement, returning to the pianoforte.

You woke up to Antoinette's insistence. "Antoinette! Is it not too early for you to wake me up so violently?"

"You are in the newest issue of Lady Whistledown!"

"Who on Earth is that?" you questioned with a frown.

"It is a gossip newspaper here in London, you must read it!"

"Does it have to do with Antoine?"

"Thanks to the Heavens, it does not."

"Then, I couldn't care less. I have a few minutes of sleep left until I have to go to the Academy."

Antoinette sighed. "I am afraid you won't be able to attend the Academy today."

"What?" You wrinkled your nose. "Why not?!"

"Because there is a long line of suitors waiting just for you, my Lady."

You sat up immediately and took the newspaper in Antoinette's hands, reading it all in less than a minute.

"Mon Dieu !" you groaned. "How many men are waiting for me?"

"At least four dozens." A tired exhalation indicated just your mood as you stood up and got changed with the help of Antoinette.

Once you were ready, you went downstairs to meet with quite the entourage of gentlemen. The staff of the mansion were running here and there, trying to accommodate everyone as best as they could.

"At least one of these must be interesting enough to marry."

You laughed. "Everyone younger than me or old must be sent away. The same applies if the man seems slow or a shag-bag, I am not going to tolerate that. Other than that, let the games begin," you instructed, letting your pettiness get the best of you. "This must be fun!"

"Anything you say."

"If any of them is Lord Walker or Mr. Schwartz, let them in," you said. "Madame Delacroix recommended them. Oh, you remember about Benedict, do you not?"

"I do, he was here yesterday."

You smiled at the memory. "If he is here, make him come first."

Antoinette tried not to laugh as she nodded, and soon enough, you were sitting in front of the third gentleman Lady Carrington had sent your way. Antoinette was your escort and some of the staff.

"Was the 'heart, wealth, face, and brains' your line?" he asked, making you chuckle.

"I did not say that, though it is not like those are four qualities I don't search for in a man. Especially the heart and the brains."

Lord Weber smiled. "Parler français est une condition nécessaire, aussi ?"

[Is speaking French a requirement also?]

"Uh, oui, mon copain doit parler français car je viens de France," you explained to him that your husband must speak French because you are French. "And you do."

"Are you looking to marry anytime soon?"

"I was exposed by your clownesque gossip writer, so I must say yes."

He chuckled. "Do you not want to marry?"

"I do, but not as soon as that woman said. She made me look desperate, did she not?"

"Just a little."

"I only ever wanted to make my debut during the Carrington ball and see what happens," You shrugged. "At least I know that the men Lady Carrington threw out will not come back."

She did all of us a favor, did she not?"

"She did," You curved your lips. "So, tell me about your family: do you have brothers or sisters?"

"A younger brother and an older sister. My father passed away a few years ago, and my mother lives in the country," he replied. "We have a manor in the outskirts of town, actually. Maybe you and the Carringtons could come and stay with my family for the annual Weber Masquerade Ball if you wish."

"Oh, when is it going to be held?"

"The last weekend of the next month, my Lady."

"I shall speak to the Carringtons about it and give you an answer, then, my Lord."

He gave you a charming smirk. "Would you be interested in walking along the promenade with me this afternoon?"

"I'm afraid I already have plans for the afternoon, Lord Weber, but perhaps we could arrange it for another day." you said, wishing for him to not invite you anywhere if it was time for you to be at the Academy.

"Tomorrow afternoon sounds good?"

You nodded. "Tomorrow afternoon sounds perfect."

Lord Weber stood up and offered you his hand to help you stand up. You took it and once you were both standing in front of one another, he kissed your knuckles.

"Would you forgive me if I said to everyone that you are an insufferable young lady? All is fair in love and war, or so I've heard."

"I would be very offended and disappointed that you didn't stand a chance against some men who do not even speak French, my Lord."

He winked. "You're right. See you tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes."

When he disappeared, you threw yourself on the couch.

"This is not as fun as I thought it would be," you complained. "I am tired of them, are there many more?"

"Around ten."

You groaned. "They are always inviting me to do something and I am obliged to say yes! What if I am busy doing something actually important? They are inviting me to go for walks and do stuff when I should be in…"

Your face shone with enlightenment when the idea crossed your mind, and a loud, excited shriek echoed in the entire room.

"Every cloud has a silver lining!" You hugged Antoinette, who laughed as she tried to push you away. "Bring them all in!"

"Did you tell your sister you're going out tonight?" Cortez asked you. You gave him a condescending look.

"I am invited to go to dinner tonight at someone's family, I have no idea where, to be honest. So, right after dinner, I'll go to White's."

"Yes!" he cheered. "But don't you be too late."

"I will not promise you a thing, Santiago," you replied. "That I am going must be more than enough for you."

"We will be drowning that hostility in whiskey, Antoine!"

"I am more of a wine person, you know?"

"Oh, let's get this man back to his homeland!" he yelled. "Not at White's tonight, by the way. It will be a private party at the Cortez Manor."

"Sure, see you there." You got inside your carriage with a big smile. "We should get going to the Carrington Mansion so I can get ready to go to the Bridgertons for dinner and then I'm going to the Cortez Manor for a private party!"

"You are doing what?!" Antoinette questioned, altered. "It has been a very long, hard day, my Lady. Go back to the Carrington Mansion after dinner, listen to me."

"I already promised Santiago I would go. Antoine Voclain is a man of his word."

"Antoine Voclain doesn't exist, my Lady, please stop this before it gets out of hand!" she pleaded. "We can still say he passed away and you will not get in any trouble."

"I will not get in any trouble, Antoinette," you told her, taking your clothes off. "And I'm not going to stay in Art School my entire life, just for some time until… I don't know, until I find out who I am."

She sighed. "You are Y/N Voclain, the future duchess of Burgundy. You are a respectable Lady, you are intelligent, talented… You are going to make an excellent wife, mother to many children, and you are going to marry a man who can see that. You will bring so much pride and honor to your father to watch from the Heavens."

"Look at me," you demanded. "I am taking off the clothes that I stole from my cousin, I just finished another day at a school I am not allowed to attend, I am on my way to the home of a family who received me with open arms and open doors, the same family I lie to every single day. I am sitting in this carriage I stole from home, with the maid and the drivers I forced to travel for two days to a strange city with me. I should be looking for a husband, but instead, I wear jewels a second and a hat the other. Most ladies are only allowed to have makeup and ball gowns, but I have all of that plus a library of all the books I have read and the poems I have written, I have a bow and arrows, I fence, I travel, I paint, I do the numbers, I speak, and that is not who a respectable lady is supposed to be! I hate to think that I was born to be a wife and a mother while my father raised me to be more than that… Once I realize who that person is, I will return to France. Not a second before."

Antoinette felt silent while you wiped the tears you didn't notice had run down your face. You arrived at the mansion but didn't leave the carriage until you were ready.

"My, my, where have you been?" Lady Carrington asked as soon as you were in front of her.

"I went out for a walk with Antoinette," you mumbled. "I asked your maid to please tell you."

"She did, but you must let me know when you are going out, you're a lady!"

You nodded. "I understand, Lady Carrington. My apologies."

"It is okay, dear," She exhaled. "Are you going to the Bridgertons'?"

"Yes, I will get ready first."

"If Lady Bridgerton invites you to stay a little longer for some tea, stay. I know you must be tired for such a hectic morning full of suitors and the promenade in the afternoon, but it would be rude not to."

"I will, Lady Carrington."

"It is a pleasure to finally have met you all," You smiled. "Though, I was informed that there were eight of you."

"Our brother had a… matter to attend to," Anthony informed. "But he sends his apologies for not being here."

"Very well," You nodded. "I am looking forward to seeing him later."

"So is he." Gregory mentioned under everyone's apprehensive glance, and his sister Hyacinth jostled him.

You ignored it with a small smile.

"Shall we start?" Lady Bridgerton asked.

"Yes! I am starving." you agreed.

Most of the siblings thanked you.

"How has been your time here in London, Lady Y/N?" Colin asked.

"It has been great! I have met a lot of nice people, thanks to that I could see your mother again," you replied, muttering a thank you to the maid who served your food. "Everything was perfect until that absurd Lady Whistledown exposed my arrival to absolutely everyone, and had the Carrington Mansion full of gentlemen."

"No one caught your attention?"

You chuckled. "It's not that. Lady Carrington filtered all the men for me. I suppose that knowing everything about everyone is convenient from time to time. Lady Whistledown made me look desperate, did she not? It was humiliating to some extent."

"That is what I thought, too," Eloise said. "To anyone it could be flattering, right? But she described you like a trophy to get!"

"Exactly!" you exclaimed. "I thought I could make the most out of it, but I am a little offended that she made me look like nothing but a lovely bride."

Eloise smiled widely, but before she could say anything, her mother interrupted her. "Was there any suitor interesting, my dear?"

"One or two," you confessed. "I am afraid they will lose their interest in me once they find out I would rather be visiting my mother's family in the Americas instead of attending balls like a trophy."

"Have you been to the Americas?" Colin asked with wide eyes.

"Yes! My mother is from there, and her family owns the biggest emerald mines," you replied. "I wish to return soon, but I have never traveled such distances alone. After my father's death, I am afraid my voyages will have to wait until I marry."

"You travel a lot?" Anthony asked.

"I used to with my father… ever the explorer," You took a sip of your drink. "I would go with him whenever and wherever he went, so I have been to many places."

"I was traveling, too, a couple of months ago. My favorite stop was the Greek Islands." The rest of the Bridgertons groaned at Colin's intervention.

"I have been to Greece also. My father wanted paintings of the Greek Ancient Ruins in Athens and Epidaurus," you commented. "Although I would not change the Kingdom of Tahiti for anywhere in the world, it is certainly the most glorious land I have set foot in."

"Y/N, Colin will never shut up if you keep feeding him with information about travels."

"Eloise!" Lady Bridgerton scolded her.

You laughed. "It is not a problem, if you wish I will stop talking."

"Do not listen to her," Colin asked you with a grin. "Did your father get the paintings?"

"He did indeed, I painted them." you answered, and Eloise and Anthony looked at each other with knowing eyes.

"It is such a shame that our brother is not here, he would adore you." Eloise commented, making you look at her in confusion.

"He will regret not being here, certainly," Daphne smirked. "I hope you see each other at the Carrington ball."

Colin shook his head. "Please, ignore them."

You frowned. "Uh… the food is incredible, Lady Bridgerton."

"I am glad you like it, dear." She sighed in relief. "Did you like the wine?"

"I did," You nodded. "Which reminds me, did you like the wine I had sent to you the last time?"

"We all did," Lady Bridgerton answered. "Actually, Colin was telling me how much he had enjoyed it earlier today."

"That is good to hear!" you exclaimed happily. "It comes from our winery."

"It was one of the best wines I have ever had." Anthony added.

You smiled. "Thank you very much, my Lord. I will make sure to send a letter and have some bottles sent to you directly from Burgundy."

"We will be looking forward to it," Anthony said. "And please, call me Anthony."

"However you please, Anthony. Please, call me Y/N, too."

"And how is Burgundy, Y/N?" Francesca asked you.

"It is a wonderful region, dear Francesca," you told her. "And all of you are more than welcome at the Château de Germolles, the Château du Clos de Vougeot, or the Palace of the Dukes."

"Thank you, dear, we will take it into consideration. Perhaps for vacations." Lady Bridgerton answered.

"I hope it doesn't stay in consideration and I get to have you. All of you are welcome, there is more than enough space for all the Bridgertons. I am sure you would adore the Palace... it is enormous, there is art everywhere, the most precious gardens for you to explore."

"We must tell Benedict everything, he will be so mad to have missed her!" Eloise whispered to Anthony, and they both chuckled.

"I would love to!" Hyacinth nodded eagerly.

"Then I will be expecting you. Your presence would be a treasure to have in my homeland." You winked.

The rest of the dinner was great. Daphne talked about her husband and child, and invited you to Hastings whenever you wanted to. There was some teasing at Anthony when you mentioned, accidentally, that you had met the Sharmas at Lady Danbury's, and somehow Colin managed to find a way to mention his travels again.

After the dessert, you said goodbye to everyone and returned to your carriage.

"Now, we shall go to the Cortez Manor." you told Antoinette, who told the drivers. Once the carriage started moving, you started getting changed.

"You cannot tell Benedict about everything that she said!"

Eloise laughed. "They have already met, Colin."

"Oh, they would make the perfect match, would they not?" Hyacinth commented.

"I hear wedding bells." Francesca added with a smile.

"This counts as treason." Colin shook his head, making his siblings laugh.

"Colin, Y/N does not have a father to look after her, so I feel personally responsible for her now that she is here in London. If you do not have good intentions, I beg you to stay away from her."

"Why do you not have faith in me?"

Daphne laughed. "You have said more than enough times that you do not wish to marry, so forgive Mama for doubting you."

"So has Benedict!"

"While it is fairly obvious that she is too good for our brother, and this is coming from someone who is deeply against marriage, me, you have to admit that they have enough in common to make a good couple," Eloise told Colin. "And I would only support her getting married because that is what she wishes for."

Her mother looked at her surprised. "I hope you do not brainwash her into not wanting to marry, Eloise."

"Do you think she would have been named the Queen's diamond had she arrived earlier?" Hyacinth wondered.

"She surely would have." Colin replied.

"Then she would be engaged to Anthony." Eloise joked.

"I would have proposed, just so you know, Colin." Anthony mocked his brother. "We would be with child right now."

"Anthony!" his mother chided.

"Y/N would not marry Anthony if she knew Benedict… Being engaged to the wrong brother sounds awful, does it not?" Daphne gave Anthony a look, making him roll his eyes.

"Then it is good no one is engaged to a wrong sibling." Anthony cut the conversation, leaving the dining room.

[neonponders]

Part 34 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 💤

Part 33 (main plot)

Part 31 & 32 (werewolf!Billy chapters haha)

( pt. 7′s art 🎩 ) ( pt. 9′s art 👀 ) ( pt. 14′s art 💨 ) ( pt. 19′s art 🦇 ) ( pt. 20′s art 🍳) ( pt. 27’s art 🦦 )

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Chrissy won poker, but little Billy and Steve couldn’t be mad at her. Even when small Billy crossed his arms, and Chrissy held out her pinkie finger for a sportsmanship handshake. “Thanks for playing with me, Billy.”

He rolled his eyes at her, but took her fingertip in his hands. “Verwy impressive.”

She grinned and focused on the bigger one. “Could you give us a ride?”

Billy tilted his head for her to follow as he carried the leftover food inside. “Sure.”

Steve dumped the Barbie pool water over the grass and said, “Hug goodbye. You’ll see each other soon.”

“Tomowwow?” small Steve asked eagerly, looking between Steve and Chrissy.

The latter gave it some thought. “Maybe. Eddie and I need to sort through our schedules. I’ve got cheer camp soon.”

Steve perked up. “I forgot about that. I figured Eddie’s shows would be a sooner thing.”

“That too,” Chrissy agreed, but made Steve stop what he was doing by hugging around his middle. “Thanks for today. You really saved me.”

“Aw, no problem. My house never closed to you. We just got busy surviving Geometry.”

Chrissy laughed, “Yeah,” while their littles followed suit.

“Bye, Chwissy,” small Steve chimed as he hugged her. He laughed as Eddie overlapped them, all wings and arms. “Biwwy! Come here!”

“I wanna be in the middlwe,” small Billy declared like a supreme ultimatum. His turquoise eyes shot wide as Steve, Chrissy, and Eddie surrounded him. His expression melted into bewildered, happy confusion.

Chrissy opened her hands on the table for her littles to climb on, and soon Billy, Max, and Chrissy were heading out. Robin stayed to have dinner with Steve, and it was then that small Billy looked up from his spaghetti pieces. “Is big Biwwy coming back?”

Steve gave that some thought, realizing that they hadn’t discussed it. “I don’t know. We’ll see him tomorrow, probably.”

Little Steve’s head fell back in a great impression of Max when she’s annoyed. ���Tomowwow’s so far! ”

Robin consoled, “You won’t notice time passing when you’re asleep.”

Big Steve agreed, “You should be more concerned with all the lotion I’m about to put on you after swimming for so long.”

“I don’t wanna be slimy!” Billy cried. Robin peeked at Steve with a smirk, enjoying getting to see how he handled this. But it wasn’t Steve’s first week, rodeo, or bedtime. He had a song ready to get little Billy and Steve in the mood for bedtime and all that it entailed.

The song was “Sweet Transvestite” from Rocky Horror Picture Show.

“Steve,” Robin called flatly from his bedroom doorframe. She could hear little Billy singing along in his en suite bathroom. “Explain.”

Steve angled himself out of the bathroom to shrug a shoulder at her. “He likes the guitar. And, you know, the ‘makin’ a man with blond hair,’ lyric.”

“Not that,” her eyes rolled. “I mean the fact that you showed them Rocky Horror without me.”

“When I have night shifts alone, musicals are the best thing for them,” he finished, turning off the bathroom light and letting his hands be a diving platform for the littles to jump onto his bed. It was the most energy Robin had seen from little Billy outside of jazzercise: swinging his fists and throwing his hips with the music.

“Is it a good thing for them to be doing this much before bed?”

“Sometimes high highs make for low lows that sleep through the night.”

Robin nodded slowly, not too sure about that but then she concluded, “A drive should knock ‘em right out. Come on.”

“You’re not just staying over?”

“I’ve got the morning shift,” she lamented, but swapped to a lighter note, “and Heather said she’d drive me.”

“Oh?” Steve puckered his lips in dramatic interest. His jaw slid to the side as if he tasted something delicious. “Heather?”

“Shut up. We’re driving with the windows down.”

The littles cried a gleeful, “Woo!” at that and stood in her pockets as Steve drove her home. They didn’t get to say goodnight to her, though, since they fell asleep about halfway there. Robin and Steve carefully transferred them to the belly of the otter plushie on his lap, and Steve wished her a good time with Heather.

“I highly doubt it’s like that,” she refuted from outside the passenger door.

“Eh, you never know until you know,” he sang back at her.

She grimaced at him. “Why are you being weird all of a sudden?”

Steve shut his trap and shook his head. “No reason. I’ll leave once you’re inside.”

Robin rolled her eyes at his manly chivalry and waved at him once she had opened her front door. Steve didn’t have it in him to tell Robin about Heather’s fearlessness at parties to kiss girls during Spin the Bottle, but he had confidence that Robin - or Heather - could break that ice on their own.

Besides, a bigger issue arrived in the form of little Steve starting to make sounds in his sleep. Big Steve held the otter tighter to his belly as he turned into his driveway -

“Stevie?” little Billy worried sleepily.

“I hear him. We’re home now. Hold onto him.”

“I am.”

“Good job, buddy. Let’s get you guys inside and in bed.”

Steve tried to keep his pace level as he unlocked his house and locked it behind him. A part of him hoped that the rocking of his steps might help his little to relax, but Billy gazed up at him with fearful eyes. “He’s having a nightmawre. He’s dweaming without me.”

Steve frowned at that as he turned on his bedside lamp, but he didn’t have time to think about it. Billy followed his hands inside their shoebox bedroom as Steve carefully put his little on his bed. “He’s not alone out here. If we can wake him up gently, he’ll be able to go back to sleep without bad dreams.”

Billy exclaimed, “Gentwy? He’s awone! Stevie, wake up!”

“Hey, hey,” Steve tried to curtail without setting Billy off too. “If you dream together, then what makes Steve happy? What makes his brain go fuzzy?”

“Fuzzy?” Billy puzzled.

“Anything. What changes his brain in a good way?”

Billy glowed like an actual lightbulb had gone off behind his eyes. “When you brwush his hairw. And big Biwwy’s water on his face, he wikes the smell o’that.”

Steve gazed flatly at him. Billy’s water....I don’t have his cologne -

“Oh,” he realized aloud, and went into his bathroom. A person didn’t put cologne on their face. He found the skincare Billy usually left out from Steve’s drawers. The bottle was just a simple toner, but it had the faintest spa, floral fragrance. Very unlike Billy’s usual masculine tendencies, but it made sense that little Steve would recognize it from being in Billy’s shirt. That might have been why Billy used it in the first place: a nonintrusive smell for the little guys.

Steve put a couple drops on his fingertips and touched them to the bed underneath little Steve’s pillow, infusing the sheets with the fragrance before his hand holding his smallest comb made the fragrance waft over the little one.

Small Steve’s features were pinched over whatever he was experiencing in his dream, but his brows lifted from the tingly sensation of the comb brushing his hair. Small Billy stood by, holding his hand, until big Steve encouraged, “You can touch his hair. We like it.”

Billy looked up at him for reassurance. Then he reached a hand over Steve’s ear, carefully pushing the brown hair back. For how much work big Steve put into his hair, he certainly didn’t like people touching it during the day.

But at night...nothing put Steve to sleep faster. Someone’s nails dragging across his scalp, stimulating his follicles by moving his hair in messy directions, the trust proximity.

Little Steve’s eyes started to blink while closed, and then he rolled over onto his back. Little Billy gasped, reaching up for the comb to control it more than Steve’s large hand. He kept a loose hold on it so Billy could brush through little Steve’s arching fringe. “Wake up, Stevie. Don’t dweam without me.”

The little one whined another sound, but far from distressed, it sounded simply annoyed. “Mm I wan-hmsff.”

Billy looked up at big Steve. “What did he say?”

The latter smiled. “I just think he’s out of the dream and trying to answer you. I’ve been told I talk in my sleep too.”

Little Billy gasped softly, relieved and bewildered. Steve carefully took the comb back with the insurance, “Keep petting him. He likes it.”

“I know.”

Steve left him next to the little one’s bed and worked on getting ready for sleep, himself, listening to Billy defending little Steve from his bad dreams.

“The dawphins are on tv tomowwow, Stevie. We gotta watch the dawphins. I wonder if big Stevie could make us some bwue food. The scuba drwivers - dwivers - ugh, the scarwy mermaids might be with the dawphins too. It’s fun when they play. I wike watching the fishies with you, Stevie...”

Big Steve’s lips pressed together as the little guy gushed his heart out just to help his favorite person sleep better. As Steve washed his face, brushed his teeth, and changed into something softer, Billy’s words dragged on, sentences becoming more and more broken...

“Okay, little man,” Steve breathed as he came to the bedside table. “Your turn for bed.”

“Mm’not sweepy,” he moaned on Steve’s hands. When he tried to put Billy on his bed, though, the little guy whined, “No! Don’wanna sleep.”

“Why not?” Steve humored, because Billy’s eyes were only halfway open.

“ ‘Cause Stevie’s alweady asleep. What if I get bad dweams alone?”

“Steve always wakes up for you when that happens. And he wakes me up, right?”

But Billy whined, and Steve figured this would be a while. He got onto his own bed and set Billy down on the pillow to talk to him. “What are your bad dreams?”

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s helpful.”

“So I never know what to wun from.”

“Oh,” Steve absorbed. “I guess that makes sense. But you know what to wake up to...right?”

Billy blinked slowly, muttering, “I hope so.”

“Hope is good. But you don’t need to hope all the time. I’m out here. And Stevie is out here, waiting for you. Ready and waiting for you to be a bossy butthead.”

Even as Billy laughed, a big, fat tear escaped the side of one of his eyes. Steve petted the pad of his thumb over Billy’s head. “Aw, buddy. You should’ve been in bed a while ago. You did good, looking after mini me. Can you let yourself fall asleep?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you can. Just missing that special ingredient.”

Little Billy’s cheeks got a hint of pink to them. “Kiss?”

“Mmhm. Comin’ in.”

Steve pecked the carefullest kiss on the small forehead, only to pull back and see Billy holding up a hand. “Kiss my hand?”

“I can do that,” his voice warmed. It was more like kissing his whole arm, but it counted. Then he wiggled a finger over Billy’s tummy. “Any bubbles in there?”

Billy chuckled, eyes glassy with impending slumber. “Pwobably.”

“Oh jeez,” Steve sighed theatrically, and kissed Billy’s belly...

Billy held up a leg, foot in the air. “Kiss m’foot.”

“I’m setting a bad precedent,” Steve warned himself, but pinched the tiny ankle between his fingers, and kissed the foot that smelled like Steve’s soap and lotion. Just to be a little obnoxious, Steve used that leg to roll Billy onto his side, and kissed his body and head again. “A whole set of armor. Nothing can get you now.”

“Thank you...Stevie...” Billy blinked vacantly, before his long lashes finally rested on his cheeks.

Steve heaved a sigh. He wondered if he could get the little guy into his own bed, but his own eyes ached for the relief of sleep -

The solid sound of knocking on wood rattled his heart in his chest. Between the late hour and his fatigue, Steve would have crept downstairs with his old, nailed bat in hand.

But he had since learned the melodies that occupied big Billy’s hands.

“Hey,” he said as a question when he opened one of the front doors.

Billy sort of smiled, sort of glanced around him as if he needed the neighbor’s consent to be here. Then he seemed to have a decision behind his eyes as he looked up at him. “Can’t sleep.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, but through a smile. “There’s a lot of that going around.”

[thatdamnmutt-exe]

Older • Trevor Philips

Plot:

Just a small drabble of Trevor fucking his boyfriend on the couch

Pairing:

Trevor Philips x Masc!OC (Name: Jynx)

Warnings:

Possessive & Needy Trevor, Degradation, Pre-Bottom Surgery Trans Masc OC.

Song:

Older - Isabel Larosa

“I think I need someone older.”

————————————————————————

The couch shook as Trevor completely lost himself inside of Jynx. The younger's walls closing around him tightly, trying to milk him of everything he has. “Damn baby, keeping tightening around me like this and I might not last long."

Jynx could only let out a muffled moan as his stomach began to feel tighter. He was pinned down on the couch, his face smushed against the cushions as Trevor held him down by the neck. His back was arched up while Trevor pounded into him from behind.

The younger's legs began to shake as he was completely engulfed with pleasure. His eyes closed as tears fell, his nails digging into anything that they could. His hair stuck to his forehead from sweat, he just looked like a wrecked mess and Trevor loved every second of it.

His intense thrusts bruised his cervix, making Jynx scream as he came hard around Trevor’s length.

“Trevor! Too much- can’t take- much more!” He screamed as Trevor kept fucking him through his climax. His own was building up more from how wrecked Jynx looked beneath him.

Trevor only chuckled as his hand moved from the back of Jynx’s neck and moved to grasp a handful of his hair before pushing his head down further into the couch. His other hand moved to grip the back of the couch and fucking Jynx harder and a bit rougher.

“You can fucking take it! You fucking slut, trying to milk me like this. This pussy was made for me, you will take it.” He growled.

Tears fell from Jynx’s eyes as the overstimulation hit and his body was burning. His breath was taken away as he was hit with a 2nd orgasm.

“Oh fuck-“ Jynx breathed heavily as his cunt squeezed Trevor, making the older man lose control and his hip sputter.

“Just like that baby, fuck, take all of Uncle T.” Trevor grunts as he falls forward onto Jynx. He kept himself snug inside of Jynx, loving the feeling of the younger throb around him.

Trevor placed soft kisses along the back of Jynx as his hands wrapped around the younger.

“You did so good baby, so perfect for me.” Trevor praised as he kissed Jynx deeply.

————————————————————————

“Just a little bit colder.”

[milogreer]

blake 🤗

rubs hands together like a supervillain. ↳ send me a character!

My first impression: BASTARD. i’ll kill you. get away from sunshine and bestie or i swear to god i’ll gut you like a fish you FREAK. etc LMAO i remember first listening to his confession audio and going to courtney like “he has been talking my fucking ear off for what feels like three hours!!!” 😭😭 he somehow managed to ride the line of annoying dickhead and actually scary villain and i absolutely couldn't stand him

My impression now: oh my god i have not been this brand of obsessed with a character in years. like. he is in my head CONSTANTLY, i’ve listened to the balance three times and i’m considering a fourth, i have at least two more rambles about him/bestie to post, he’s got the longest playlist out of all my redacted playlists. if he had merch i think i’d go broke. it’s brutal man i want him back so badly. i miss that freak.

A favorite thing: the devotion !!!! say what you will about his methods and i’ll likely agree with you but oh my god his devotion … to see the person you love the most die in your arms over and over again no matter what you do to change it and be so wrecked by it that you get involved with a cult trying to contact ancient gods for just the CHANCE to maybe save them. doing unimaginable things in your pursuit to keep them safe. to be so obsessively in love that it makes you delusionally cocky enough to look the god who just said they shaped your reality in the face and say “i’ll do whatever you need, as long as you save my love.” he's CRAZY

Least favorite thing: he is so fucking stupid LMFAO. like it’s a fantastic character trait to be so blinded to reality because he’s got tunnel vision but you can’t help but be like what the FUCK are you DOING when he does shit like dropping the ward to kill himself via shade so he can do exactly what brachium said not to. truly the guy in a horror movie you yell at for doing something so inconceivably stupid to push the plot forward and i wanna strangle him for it sometimes

Favorite line/scene: sigh … the last scene in “falling for your yandere childhood friend” … the switch on “i won’t be able to give you space” ?? COME ON. it made me sick on my first listen but now it makes me sick in the opposite direction 🫣 ughhh that scene is just so good because it’s really easy imo to go through this audio out of context of the balance overall and trick yourself into thinking like, oh, he’s just kind of a guy. aww. and then it switches and it’s like HUH?? “the things i think about you, how much i want you, it’s the stuff you’re not supposed to say out loud” + “if you pick this, it’ll be all of me - and we both know a lot of that’s not pretty” ?? oh it is so delicious.

Favorite interaction that character has with another: :modcheck: “looking for answers with your dreamwalker boyfriend” when he comes in to talk to elliott and sunshine 😫 i’m such a sucker for condescension and it just oozes out of him here. the patronizing little hums after “can i call you eli?” and “that deathwalker friend of yours really left you out to dry, huh?” and “but don’t worry. i’m sure he’s very proud of you.” >>>

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: I WANTED BRACHIUM TO BEAT HIM UP i’m so disappointed he didn’t get to feel brachium’s wrath bc he deserved to after putting sunshine and elliott through all that bullshit. i hope they face off again eventually somehow

A headcanon: when he turned 18 him and bestie went and got little tattoos out of one of those roulette/mystery egg machines. i haven’t decided what they got or where yet though because i’m too indecisive! he also has a snake tattoo like this :)

A song: I HAVE SO MANY. but the one that kicked off my blake obsession is explode by mother mother so it’ll always be one of the most important ones 💘

An unpopular opinion: kind of suggestive so i won’t Get Into It but i don’t think he’s as dominant as perhaps he would seem to be … i’ve been really back and forth on this though so don’t quote me here

[kattahj]

Summary of half a dozen Thai BLs

Now that I've watched half a dozen Thai boys' love dramas, I thought I'd sum them up for people who haven't yet watched any, and think that they may want to.

First off: I recommend ALL of these. They're ALL very gay with happy endings. They ALL have fun plots and generally good acting. (There are some actors who knock it out of the park more than others, but they're spread out over all the different shows, and some appear in more than one.) If you're only going to watch one and you don't care about genre, I'm going to say Moonlight Chicken, but if it actually matters to you what the show is about and what kind of story it is, here's a summary of them all (in the order I watched them):

Moonlight Chicken

What's it about: The owner of a diner hooks up with a customer late one night, but is hesitant to let the encounter turn into a proper relationship.

Genre: Slice of life

Watch if you enjoy: Messy characters who get tangled in relationships in different ways. Family, including found family, and multiple gay couples. A fairly realistic view of gay life in Thailand (including the impact of a lack of marriage equality), and also issues such as class, disability, and the multiple effects of the covid crisis. My first BL and still my favourite.

Gayer version of: a Mike Leigh movie

A Tale of Thousand Stars

What's it about: A rich guy who gets a heart transplant decides to make his life useful by taking up the profession the donor left behind, namely as a volunteer teacher in a remote mountain village. There to teach him the ropes is a stern forest ranger.

Genre: Classic romance

Watch if you enjoy: People who are so in love everyone can see it, but still take ages to admit it. Secrets and lies. Scenes with cute children. The same main actors as in Moonlight Chicken. Pretty boys crying/fainting/in mortal danger.

Gayer version of: The Sound of Music

Bad Buddy

What's it about: The sons of two rival families, who are also members of rival university faculties, are way more in love with each other than they're willing to admit, even to themselves.

Genre: Romcom (or romantic dramedy, it gets pretty serious at times)

Watch if you enjoy: Belligerent sexual tension. Chemistry so thick you can slice it with a knife. The couple getting together halfway through the show, and that's just the start of their troubles. Environmental issues on the side. Adorable lesbian side couple. Love songs. Metaphorical homophobia in a world with no actual homophobia.

Gayer (and happier) version of: Romeo and Juliet

He's Coming to Me

What's it about: Lonely ghost who can't seem to move on makes friends with a young boy who is the only one who can see him.

Genre: Paranormal romance with a side of murder mystery

Watch if you enjoy: Cute ghosts. The hijinks when people don't know that the ghost is there. Having your heart broken only to have it mended again. Absolute himbo main characters. Fantastic coming out scene. Surprisingly cute het side couple.

Gayer version of: Julie and the Phantoms

Not Me

What's it about: After a young activist is beaten into a coma, his twin brother secretly takes his place, trying to find out what happened.

Genre: Action-adventure with a political bent

Watch if you enjoy: Bikers doing parkour. The softest babiest man in existence trying to pass himself off as a badass. Lots of discussions about law and justice, and absolutely wrecking the lives of rich assholes. Any of the following: Enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, or friends and possibly lovers to enemies.

Gayer version of: The Parent Trap crossed with Face/Off.

The Eclipse

What's it about: Rules at a high school are strictly enforced, with threat of a "curse" against those who break it. A rebellious new recruit immediately clashes with the head of the prefect club.

Genre: High school drama, mystery

Watch if you enjoy: Aggressive flirting. Teenage rebellion. Old stuffy school being shaken up. Getting to see First and Khaotung stretch their acting muscles (they play side characters in some of the shows above). Multiple gay characters. Homophobia dealt with directly as well as indirectly.

Gayer version of: Dead Poets' Society

Feel free to ask questions if you want to know more! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try a seventh show. :-)