#the internship billy

[edith-moonshadow]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Billy Hargrove/Other(s) Characters: Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington's Parents, Original Characters, Nancy Wheeler Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Billy Hargrove, Omega Steve Harrington, Manipulation, Blackmail, Rivalry, Fraternities & Sororities, Sex Tapes, Breaking and Entering, Billy Hargrove Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Top Billy Hargrove, Bottom Steve Harrington, Biting, Marking, Dirty Talk, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Manhandling, Begging, Self-Lubrication, Anal Sex, Knotting, Barebacking, Overstimulation, POV Steve Harrington

Summary:

Steve will stop at nothing to get the coveted Harrington internship. Not even blackmail.

Steve loved going to college. He had always thought it would be a pipedream until everything just seemed to fall into place. Dating Nancy his senior year meant that he started to take his school work seriously and Nancy was patient with him if he needed help. His grades drastically improved and his dad agreed to pay for college. He was surprised but elated as he didn't need to focus on anything but his grades and having a good time. College was more challenging than high school and Nancy was still back home completing her senior year but he'd found himself a replacement of sorts. Dylan was in all his classes and just like Nancy, he was smart, patient and good at explaining concepts. For his part, Steve had gotten them both into the most exclusive fraternity on campus. Steve knew all the tricks to get in even though they didn't normally accept Omegas. He didn't talk about his status. It had been a shock when he'd presented at seventeen, a late bloomer by most standards. His status hadn't held him back so far but it was a major hurdle in one respect. The Harrington internship.

It was the most coveted internship and Steve hadn't been actively pursuing it as it was his family's business so he didn't think he needed to. He had gone home for Christmas vacation where he'd learned from his mom that his dad was expecting him to earn the place. Steve had been confused.

"But I'll just be taking it away from someone else when I can just work at the office anytime."

"I know Darling but you know your father, he has certain ideas."

Steve knew what those ideas were only too well. Since he'd been thirteen he'd been working at the family business. His dad had learned the ropes from the bottom up and he expected Steve to be the same. It hadn't taken long for him to learn that his dad only thought Omegas were good for bringing coffee and looking good at the office. He hadn't thought much about his outdated views when he'd been younger but once they applied to him he wanted to change his dad's mind. This had never been an easy task. John Harrington was nothing if not stubborn and determined and once he'd decided something that was it.

Being the only Harrington at college made the task feel more daunting but Steve was determined to prove his dad wrong. He wasn't exactly proud of the things he'd done to narrow the field but he had to succeed. Even though it was a coveted internship some students weren't interested. This was either because they had places secured elsewhere or they didn't qualify due to their grades. Others were easy to intimidate through virtue of being a Harrington as he could convince them that they didn't stand a chance. The others were slightly more tricky but Steve had built himself a perfect network through his charm and connections at the fraternity. It made it so easy to discover other people's secrets. Little by little he wore everyone down until there was only one rival. However, he knew this would be his toughest opponent.

Billy Hargrove was already a step ahead as he was an Alpha. He had drive, was determined and unfortunately for Steve, he was incredibly smart. He'd only tried a few times to intimidate him only to find himself pinned to a wall or laughed at. Billy didn't run in the same circles as Steve. He was a scholarship student and worked half the week as a bartender in one of the clubs near the college. He hadn't joined any fraternities and lived off campus in a run-down apartment block. He was still hugely popular as he was smart and found time to be a varsity basketball player. Steve saw him intermingle with several different groups, he didn't seem to need to study but did attend a study group where he helped others and he didn't seem to have a steady Omega. All he ever heard through the grapevine was how amazing he was. He could be an asshole but only to people who pissed him off and that wouldn't prevent him from getting the internship.

He'd been feeling a little desperate when a drunken conversation at the fraternity house changed everything. Steve had been enjoying a few games of pool with the other members of the fraternity and mentally preparing himself for summer vacation. It was only a few weeks away and he knew his dad would ask him about school. He couldn't stop thinking about Billy and how he could take him down when he heard his name. He looked around even though Billy rarely attended parties at the fraternity as he was usually working. He heard his name being said on a sob and walked over to the couches. There sat three Omegas, the one in the middle had dark wavy hair and watery hazel eyes. His two friends were sitting close and attempting to console him to little effect.

"I can't believe I went to his work. Why didn't you stop me?"

"Don't worry he didn't seem that angry."

"Are you serious? I thought he was going to kill me…I mean we had such a good time is it ridiculous to expect a little more?"

"No, of course not."

They fell into a strained silence and Steve thought that was it. He'd hoped to find out something interesting but it seemed it was just someone being a little dramatic. He'd just turned to walk away when the Omega opened his mouth and wailed. Steve turned back just as his friend leaned in and whispered something. He looked around and realised everyone was watching him. He shrunk in on himself as Steve moved silently closer. The Omega spoke softly but urgently.

"The tape, oh god I just know he's going to show it around now because I pissed him off."

"He won't."

"How do you know?"

"He hasn't before and remember all that craziness with Sadie, if anyone's tape was going to get leaked it was her and nothing."

"I can't believe I let him tape us."

"Shhh it's ok you're not the only one."

The Omega's cheeks warmed to a deep crimson.

"It had been so hot and I knew others had done it…"

Steve's curiosity was officially piqued. The three Omegas fell silent once more before one left to get a drink and the other was called away by someone else. Only the upset one remained. Steve quickly grabbed a couple of drinks and sat down beside him. He looked up at him with big soft hazel eyes and Steve smiled reassuringly.

"I noticed you didn't have a drink and it's my job to make sure everyone is having a good time."

He held it out and the Omega took it gingerly before quickly downing it in one go.

Steve smiled brightly.

"My name's Steve."

"Ryan."

Steve passed Ryan the second drink which quickly followed the first. Steve engaged him in an awkward but pleasant conversation before getting him more drinks.

"I'm sorry you had a bad night. Is there anything I can do?"

Ryan stared down into his empty glass. He slowly shook his head.

"Not unless you can erase this past week."

"Can't be that bad."

"Oh yeah well tell me if this qualifies, I finally caught the attention of the hottest Alpha on campus and we ended up back at his place where I had simultaneously one of the best and worst nights of my life, he's amazing and I still get shivers thinking about it but I stupidly let him tape us which would be fine only I wanted more and I went his work and tried to gain his attention in the most pathetic way and now he hates me and he's going to leak the tape…"

"What tape?"

"The tape of us playing hide and seek."

Ryan glared at him and Steve knew he needed to tread carefully.

"Sorry that was a stupid question but how do you know he even has a tape?"

Ryan exhaled heavily.

"His collection is an open secret at this point…I know at least two other people who've made tapes and I saw him put a tape in the camera…and I know from someone else who saw him with other tapes."

"Like a lot of tapes?"

"I dunno he has a box under his bed but I don't know how many."

Steve gently rubbed Ryan's arm.

"See the tapes are known about but no one's seen them so I wouldn't worry. I'm sure everything will blow over."

Ryan deflated against the couch.

"I hope you're right."

One of his friends reappeared with a glass of water and apologised for disappearing. Steve carefully moved away and headed to his room. He finally had something on Hargrove.

The next day he went in search of Betty. She was an Alpha who had a reputation for getting people things they needed by any means necessary as long as they had the funds. She was petite with long wavy blonde hair and crystal-clear green eyes but looks could be deceiving and Steve had seen her hold her own in a fight. He found her outside her sorority house on her way to class.

"Can I ask a favour?"

"Depends on what kind."

"It does involve a little breaking and entering."

"Where?"

"That apartment block near the college."

She didn't speak for a moment and then nodded.

"What are you after?"

"A tape."

"Is this about Hargrove?"

"Why?"

Betty stopped and turned to look at him.

"I'd heard rumours but I didn't think he was your type."

"What? No…look I just want to steal a tape."

"Why?"

"Does it matter?"

"I know some people who are on those tapes and I don't want their reputations ruined because of what you two have got going on."

Steve sighed.

"I promise nothing will be leaked. I won't even watch it, it's just to scare him OK?"

She watched him intently for a moment.

"It'll cost you double."

Steve nodded.

"And I've two other stipulations, one I want you there as a distract/lookout and two if any tape gets leaked I'm coming for you."

"Why would I be a distraction?"

Betty rolled her eyes.

"Do you agree to my terms or not?"

Steve knew this was his only chance. He agreed.

Betty wanted to do it later that night. Billy would be working and they had the cover of darkness to aid them. They walked up to Billy's apartment 2B, the door was worn with chipped paint. Betty crouched down and started on the lock. It only took her a few moments before there was a click and the door slowly creaked open. She nodded at Steve and slipped inside pulling the door closed behind her. Steve walked across the hall and waited. If Billy appeared he had to knock on the door three times. His mind wandered as he stood listening to the sounds of people cooking, walking across their apartments and the intermingling conversations from televisions that were playing a little too loud. It felt like being in a fraternity only these people probably didn't organise parties together or act like a club.

It had taken him a while to get used to all the noise after the still quietness of his home in Hawkins. Even when his parents were there the most they did was play music very softly in the evenings as they enjoyed a drink together. He had thought that he'd crave the silence too as it was all he knew but he'd learned that he loved noise. Silence gave him too much time to think and he preferred to get lost in anything other than his thoughts. He hoped in a few years after he'd worked at the company that he could be transferred to one of the big cities. He'd frame it as independence. He just wanted to carve out his path in life which wasn't completely untrue. He just didn't want to end up like his parents, sitting in a darkened room with a cold drink and only the soft music for company.

The sound of a roaring engine broke through his thoughts and he looked outside to see Billy's Camaro pulling into a spot outside. He walked briskly towards his door and gave it three sharp knocks. He moved back expecting Betty to appear but when she didn't he knocked again. The elevator dinged behind him and he turned just in time to see Billy exiting. He moved away from his door but he didn't have anywhere to go so he took a deep breath and walked towards him. Billy looked up from his keys and spotted him immediately. A smirk spread across his face as he boxed Steve in against the wall.

“Slumming it tonight Princess?"

Steve turned so that he could keep an eye on his door. He rolled his eyes at Billy.

"Why I'm here is none of your business."

"Sure it wasn't to see me?"

Betty's fingers slid through Billy's door and Steve felt his heart leap into his throat. He just needed to distract him long enough for her to escape. He moved closer to the wall so that he had to look up at Billy making his neck long and exposed. He watched with a little satisfaction as his eyes became glued to his throat.

"No, I was meeting with someone else, I just got a little lost on my way back."

Billy bared his teeth.

"Who?"

"No one you know."

Betty slowly eased herself out and gently pulled the door closed behind her. She turned and walked briskly down the hall towards the apartments at the back. Steve sighed softly. He gave Billy a condescending smile.

"Great chat Hargrove but I've got places to be."

He jumped as Billy placed his nose on his throat and inhaled deeply. His breath was hot and humid as he breathed against his skin.

"You smell so good, I bet you'd smell even better after you've been squirming on my knot."

Billy's scent enveloped his senses and he felt his stomach twist pleasantly. Steve could never deny that Billy was an attractive Alpha but he had more important things to do. He slipped out from underneath him and backed away.

"Maybe some other time."

Hargrove leaned back against the wall.

"Any time Sugar, just give me a call."

He walked back to his car which he'd parked down the block and waited. Around five minutes later Betty arrived and handed him a VHS tape with 'Ryan' scrawled across it. He gave her the money they'd promised.

"I don't care what little kinky game you and Hargrove are playing, you better stick to your word."

Steve nodded.

That night he kept turning the tape over in his hands. There was a curious little voice in the back of his mind whispering that he could watch it. That nobody had to know. He wasn't going to show anyone else or even talk about it. He just wanted to see Billy in action. He'd heard so many rumours and heard that shivery little tremor to other Omega's voices when they talked about what a night with Billy was like. Steve knew that he could find out for himself. Billy didn't seem choosey and he'd spelt it out for him earlier but he had two problems. One was that he was currently in the process of blackmailing Billy into giving up the internship that he needed to secure a good job post-college. The other was that Steve had tried to play the field in high school and learned the hard way that he loved being in love. Not all sex was equal. He knew that Billy would probably blow his mind but he couldn't bear the thought of crying into his drink after embarrassing himself like Ryan. He'd been there in the past. Picking fights and wallowing in his grief but it wasn't worth it especially if he knew the outcome and everyone knew a night with Billy was a one-time thing.

He placed the tape on the back of his shelf and crawled into bed. Tomorrow he would finally best Billy and could return home secure in the knowledge that he'd made his dad proud.

It took him almost a full day to get up the courage to confront Billy. He didn't know why but he had butterflies in his stomach every time he tried to think about it. The tape still weighed heavily on his mind. Finally at around eight that evening he grabbed the tape and drove over to Billy's apartment. It was the same as the night before with the sounds of people's lives echoing in the halls. He knocked on his door with one hand. Clutching the tape in the other. He wasn't even sure Billy was home but his door swung open. Billy's eyes lit up when he saw Steve standing there.

"Hello Princess, what do I owe this unexpected pleasure."

"I have to talk to you about something."

"C'mon in."

Billy moved back and Steve followed him into his small apartment. It had a small sitting area with a kitchenette and a door off to the side which Steve assumed was his bedroom. He tried to keep his eyes off it. Billy sat down on his couch and patted the seat next to him. Steve walked closer but didn't sit.

"I'm just going to get to the point, a tape has come into my possession which concerns you."

Billy smirked at him.

"What kind of tape?"

"You know what kind of tape."

Billy shrugged.

"You'll have to explain it to me, Pretty Boy."

"I don't have to explain anything everyone knows about these tapes and I don't think the deciding committee for the internship would approve."

Billy laughed. It was a cruel cackle. Steve grew impatient. He threw the tape onto the couch beside Billy.

"Ryan? That could be anything."

Steve scoffed.

"I don't think Ryan would agree."

Billy watched him intently.

"Have you watched it?"

Steve felt his cheeks heat. He shook his head.

"Then where's your proof?"

"On the tape."

Billy lifted it.

"It could be a birthday party for all you know."

"Fuck off Hargrove why would you have Ryan's birthday party."

"How about we watch it to find out?"

Steve's heart started to race.

"I don't want to see that."

A smug smile spread over Billy's face.

"No? How can you blackmail me if you haven't even seen the evidence?"

Steve swallowed heavily as Billy stood and walked towards his bedroom. He stood completely frozen for a moment unsure what to do when he heard his name and as though in a trance followed him. Billy was placing the tape into a camera connected to a television. He sat on his bed and Steve's heart stopped dead in his chest as he realised he'd have to sit beside him to see the screen. He gingerly sat down only for Billy to move closer as he lifted a remote off his bedside table. His warm thigh pressed against Steve's as he pressed play.

Ryan from the frat house was sitting on the bed looking into the camera with a shy expression on his face. Billy appeared and pinned him down on the bed to Ryan's delight. Suddenly they went into fast motion as Billy pressed a button on the remote.

"May as well skip to the good part."

Steve's face grew hot as he pressed play and suddenly the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and Ryan's loud whimpers. On the screen, his eyes were transfixed to Billy's hard cock pumping in and out of Ryan. He bit his lip at the sounds that Ryan was making. He'd never heard anyone sound quite like that in real life. He took a shuddering breath and realised that Billy wasn't watching the tape. His eyes were fixated on Steve. He licked his lips nervously and turned towards him. Billy moved in closer.

"I can make you whimper twice as loud."

Steve opened his mouth to disagree only for Billy to capture it in a passionate kiss. He soon found himself pinned against the bed with Billy's hands slowly peeling off his clothes. The twist in his stomach was making him squirm as he listened to the sounds coming from the tape and imagined himself in Ryan's place. He wanted Billy to turn him into a whimpering mess, leave deep marks all over his skin and knot him so good he'd make a show of himself for more. Billy kissed his way down Steve's body leaving stinging kisses as Steve couldn't help glancing at the screen. The look of complete ecstasy on Ryan's face as Billy's knot tied them together. He wondered what Billy's face looked like at that moment as his face was turned away from the camera. He hadn't made much noise aside from a few grunts and whispered dirty words to Ryan. He felt his fingers dig into his thighs and Billy's hot breath ghost over his skin.

"What about the camera?"

Billy looked up at him in surprise.

"What about it?"

"Are you not going to switch it on?"

He didn't fully understand why he wanted this but he knew he desperately did. There was something dirty wrong hot about it in his mind. That infuriating little voice back whispering about all the things he didn't want to admit that he wanted.

"Want to see my knot splitting you open on repeat Sweetheart?"

He bit his lip so hard it turned white as Billy smirked up at him. He moved up and ejected the tape before walking over and pulling out a new one. He pushed it into the camera and pressed record. Steve lying dishevelled with hazy eyes and a rosy face filled the screen. He became hypnotized by his image as Billy lay back down and started to suck marks into his thighs. He couldn't help watching everything play out on the screen as though it detached him from his questionable decisions. Would Billy watch this back later? Would he someday be the soundtrack to someone else's encounter? A moan bubbled up his throat as Billy sunk his teeth into his thigh. He felt his underwear being slid down and off his body before Billy's fingers spread him open.

"Fuck Sweetheart you love being on camera huh?"

He shivered at the feeling of Billy's tongue lapping at him before it slithered inside making his stomach swoop. Billy groaned as Steve's body fluttered around him. He pushed a finger in alongside his tongue giving him a few minutes to get used to it before he pushed in a second. He whimpered as Billy's fingers stroked over his prostate making pleasure pool in his stomach.

Billy pulled back from him and wrapped his hands around his hips. He pulled him up and manhandled Steve over until he was on all fours with his ass pointed towards the camera. He could no longer see the screen but moaned at what he imagined was displayed for the camera when Billy spread his ass open. He pushed his fingers back inside and Steve clamped down on them. It didn't take long for Billy to find his prostate and rub his fingers over it until Steve's legs were shaking. He tried desperately to swallow down the sounds that were escaping from his mouth but every time he tried Billy pushed his fingers up against his prostate until he felt like he was going to explode. Billy chuckled softly.

"I told you you'd whimper twice as loud."

Steve shuddered as slick ran down his thighs. His body fluttered around Billy's fingers as his hips snapped forward chasing the orgasm that Billy kept him on the precipice of. He licked over his lips.

"Billy…please…"

A sharp slap to his ass gave a counterpoint to the pleasure which only heightened it as his skin warmed.

"Tell me how much you want it."

He took a shuddering breath. It was getting harder to think all he did was want.

"I want it…please…"

"You want to be a writhing slut for my cock like a good little Omega…"

"Yes…uhhhhh…"

As Billy's fingers stuffed him full he felt his other hand spread him open and he felt lightheaded thinking about the camera and the images it was recording. He wondered if anyone else had a video like this and secretly hoped he was the only one. That out of the possibly dozens of tapes, Steve's was different. That Billy would wear it out because he had Steve so spread and desperate.

"So tight and wet…think it's time to finally loosen you up…"

He slowly pulled his fingers free even as Steve's body tried to keep them there by squeezing tight. He felt his hands on his hips pressing him down until the hot skin of his hard cock was rubbing over him. He spread his legs a little wider silently begging for it. Billy wasted very little time and Steve whined at the stretch as his cock pressed inside. He felt so overwhelmed as he started a brutal rhythm that he felt an electric crackle under his skin. The twist in his stomach became a hurricane that spread out through him until he felt it everywhere. His mind was on overdrive.

Billy made a strange noise like a wounded animal and suddenly Steve felt his knot splitting him open. He cried out at all the sensations that he felt at once. His body was trapped between pushing in deeper and pulling away until Billy's cock pressed in exactly where he needed it. The pleasure flowing through him became white hot and he shivered as he came all over the bed beneath him as Billy lay over him. He was pulled over onto his side as Billy pressed biting kisses to his throat and Steve got lost in the pleasure.

He resurfaced when he heard the tape click as it ran out of space and rewound itself. He looked up at the blue screen as he felt Billy shift behind him. His knot had deflated so his cock slowly slid free and he couldn't help the moan that escaped him as he felt come run down the backs of his thighs. Billy kissed the back of his neck as he pushed his fingers into his body and he whimpered as it sent little shocks of pleasure through him.

Billy sucked a mark on his neck right above where the collars of his shirt sat. He pulled him around so Steve could see the hungry look in his eyes as Billy kissed him. Pleasure was building inside him again between Billy's harsh kisses and his stroking fingers. He wrapped his legs around him and sighed happily when Billy pushed his hard cock inside. It was slow but no less intense the second time. He was able to see how affected Billy was and how desperate he became. It only heightened his pleasure. He fell asleep wrapped up in Billy's arms and tried desperately not to feel anything too deeply. That annoying little voice was less sultry and more hopeful but Steve ruthlessly ignored them. Billy never gave repeat performances.

He eventually did have to leave Billy's the following morning. He needed to get a shower and attend his last classes before Christmas vacation. He shamelessly snuck out while Billy was in the shower and ran back to his car. He couldn't bear him being cold now that he'd gotten what he wanted so chose to avoid it instead. They only had a few days left and it was hard to ignore him while Billy's eyes burned through him and his skin still tingled everywhere he'd touched him. He wondered if deep down Billy was still pissed about him attempting to blackmail him even though it was the worst blackmail attempt in history.

He was packing a couple of days later and he reached a decision. He wasn't going to pursue the internship and he was going to tell his dad when he got home. Even if he hadn't given in to Billy he knew deep down that he deserved it more. He had the drive and the grades. He needed it more than Steve. He could hear his dad asking if Billy was an Alpha with an understanding nod when Steve said yes. A hot itchy sensation at the back of his throat made him clench his teeth. His status had nothing to do with how good he was at the business. He'd dedicated so much of his life to it already and if his dad didn't want him he knew he'd find somewhere that did. He might have to start all over but it was better than feeling like he had to fuck everyone else over just so he didn't have to feel like a failure.

A knock at his door interrupted his racing thoughts. He looked at the time. It was too early for the final fraternity meeting and he didn't even know if he wanted to attend. He sighed it was probably just Dylan.

"Yeah?"

His door opened and his heart stopped when Billy walked inside and closed the door behind him. It had been a few days but suddenly he felt like they hadn't left Billy's bed yet. He could feel the pleasure tingling under his skin at the hungry look in his eyes. He swallowed heavily.

"Just came to see how your application for the internship was going."

"I think I stand a good chance."

Billy smirked and produced a tape from behind his back. It was just a plain black VHS tape with a white label with 'Princess' scrawled across it. It looked completely innocuous but Steve's mind supplied him with what was on that tape. The familiar twist in his stomach made his head spin. Billy caressed the tape as he moved it from hand to hand.

"We could always submit your tape as proof of what a good little Omega you are, I'm sure Daddy would approve."

Steve had to suppress a whimper at the idea of someone else seeing his tape. If other people knew how pathetic he was for Billy's knot. It felt like a nightmare and a forbidden fantasy all rolled into one. His legs started to shake as his face heated. He could feel the bitemarks he couldn't quite hide start to itch. Billy smirked at him as he held the tape out.

"Want to watch it and find out?"

[spideyhexx]

WHY THE HELL WAS MY OLD SUBSTITUTE TEACHER IN BILLY THE KID? 😭 I remember him mentioning he was an actor and then I saw him in episode 4, I think? (He plays the guard when Billy escapes jail for the first time) and I was shook. Good for Mr. Diablo!!

Tom was also in my city in like February to film for Billy the kid and apparently one of my friend’s friends was going to an audition but they cancelled and found out Tom was going to be there afterwards (I would cry)

Sorry for the rant but I’m glad I got to be in the vicinity of Tom Blyth 🙏

pls fbdjfnwjdne that’s so silly, love that🫶

[hyunrun]

feeling hungry between 5pm and 5am feels so delicious but i feel like I'm dying if I'm hungry between 5am and 5pm T-T

[gublershrry]

Wicked Games • B.E.

Summary: you’re tasked with tutoring Billie, the girl that’s notorious for being a playboy at your school. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into with her.

Warnings: smut, dom!billie, innocentish!reader, gxg, fingering (r receiving), squirting, dumbification, fuckboy!billie (ish) (by request), college billie and reader, i think thats it

When you walked into class on Tuesday, the last thing you were expecting was to be called upon by your professor to stay after. You were the perfect student: your GPA never falling below 4.0, your assignments were always turned in on time, and the only time you missed a class was when your roommate was sick and you were afraid to leave her alone in the dorms.

So truthfully, even after you racked your pretty head, even with all of the knowledge in there, you had no idea what this could be about.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. The entire lecture consisted of you bouncing your leg up and down at a rapid pace, biting your nails until they were red and raw, and twirling your hair until you swear it could’ve all fallen out.

Finally, when the professor dismissed the class, you stood up shakily and made your way to his desk at the front of the lecture hall.

You, and the girl that sat all the way in the back.

“What is she doing here with me?” You think to yourself, wondering what similarities you two may have. The girl in the back of class was taller than you, with black hair covered by a bandana and a backwards cap. Her eyes pierced yours with the same confused look on her face.

“I don’t know why the fuck you’re here either. I’m probably here ‘cause I’m failing, dude.” She says, her voice soothing your ears.

She looks you up and down, taking in your comfortable yet put together outfit. You silently thank God that you decided to actually wear something presentable today, since last night was finally a night where you didn’t stay up studying until early into the morning. You push your glasses up a little farther up your nose, smiling at her comment. Still confused on why you’re here, the professor finally turns around and looks at you.

“Hey, have you met Billie?” He asks, looking at the girl next to you.

“Just did, Professor. Can I ask why I’m here?” You silently note the girl’s name. Billie. You feel like you’ve heard that before.

“Well, listen. I know you don’t need the extra cred-” your professor starts. You cut him off.

“I’ll do it, I can always use it. What do I need to do?”

The professor looks at you, then looks to Billie, who isn’t even looking up at the conversation happening in front of her.

“You need to tutor Billie. She’s failing.”

Billie’s head snaps up, an angry look taking over her face.

“Uh, fuck no. I don’t need anyone telling me shit.” She rudely remarks. Your heart sinks. You want this extra credit.

And you kind of want to get to know Billie.

So when she quickly pivots toward the door, her long strides taking her out of the hall to God-knows-where, you turn to your professor, mouthing “I got it,” and chase after her.

“Bil- Billie! Billie wait!” Your short legs finally catch up to her, but she’s still ignoring you.

“Billie it won’t be hard, but I’ll help. We don’t even have to meet a ton.” You beg. The extra credit would look great on your resume for internships.

“Fuck off, dude.” You hear her say. You can almost hear her eyes roll.

“Billie please, I’ll do anything, I need this for my resume and you need it so you don’t fail out! I promise it won’t be much.” You look down at your feet as you talk, making sure you’re staying on her tail.

Finally, she stops walking abruptly and turns around, making you run into her chest. You fix your glasses, looking up at her. She glares down at you, picking at her bottom lip with her thumb and forefinger.

“Give me your phone.” She spits, holding her hand out.

You hand it to her, confused.

She types in her contact, and her address.

“Come to my apartment tomorrow if you wanna do this shit. Text me when you’re there. Not about anything else. Got it?”

You nod and take your phone back, letting her walk away. You watch as she pulls a piece of gum out of the pocket of her definitely-too-big jorts. She adjusts her hat and keeps walking, leaving you dumbstruck in the middle of the courtyard of your university, really confused on what you just got yourself into.

————————————————————————————

The next day, you show up to her apartment at 5pm sharp. You text her, but get no response. You hear loud rap music through the walls, but you knock anyways. After about 7 minutes of standing outside of her door, probably looking ridiculous, she answers.

“Hey, come in.”

The stench of weed fills your nostrils and the smoke clouds your eyes. Holy shit. Of course she’s failing. All she does is get high.

You see another girl, half naked, run across the hallway into a bathroom.

Gets high and fucks people, you mentally correct yourself. You feel a sting in your heart, but you can’t quite place it, so it gets ignored.

“Get the fuck out dude, I told you I had shit to do and you’re wasting our time!” Billie yells across the apartment, assumingely to the girl you just saw in a bra and shorts, because she quickly runs out and toward the door that Billie is still holding open, with you next to it.

“Text me.” The girl says before glaring you down.

“Yeah I’ll think about it.” Billie laughs before slamming the door in the girls face. She coughs a little bit before going to the kitchen table and sitting down.

“What, you just gonna stare or actually tutor me?” She says to you, waiting for you to follow her to the table. You stutter out an apology, quickly going to the chair across from her.

“Nah, next to me.” She says. You look up at her confused.

“Sit next to me. Don’t make me say it again.”

You bite your lip and go to the chair next to hers, sitting on the cold wood, and quickly pulling your computer out of your backpack. Hers is already on the table with the class website pulled up. She watches your every move while you scatter to pull everything up. Your multiple tabs distract her, most about classes but some are Pinterest boards, online shopping carts, and shows you’ve been watching. Billie’s intrigued. She studies you, and you can feel her eyes watching your every move. You gulp, and your heart rate picks up. She places her hand on your thigh, making your head turn towards her. Looking up at her with your mouth barely open, your breathing labored as you lock eyes.

“How about we play a game, hm?” She says with a wild, wicked smirk on her face. You gulp harder this time, your eyes going foggy as she brings her hands up higher on your thigh. She leans into you, her lips grazing your ear.

“How about, instead of this,” she whispers, her fingers going in between you and her when she says ‘this,’ “I teach you a little something instead.”

Her words drive you crazy, and you have no idea what to do. You came to study, you came to tutor her. You need the extra credit, you need her to pass. You start to decline, trying to spit out that she needs to focus, but you gasp when her hand travels just high enough to brush the fabric covering you under your skirt.

“I think it’ll help both of us focus, yeah?” She smirks down at you, watching your reaction. Your throat is dry, your face is hot, and you can feel yourself starting to pool in your panties.

“O- okay.” You stutter.

“Not what I need to hear. It’s yes or no.” Billie says sternly.

“Yes.”

“Yes to what? What do you need from me, baby?” She smiles sickly. “Listen ma, I’ll give you all I got. Just ask nicely.”

“Ple-” Billie enjoys watching you struggle to get your words out. “Please fuck me, Billie.”

And just like that, the switch flipped. She cleared the table of everything; both computers, papers, empty dishes from earlier. She told you to get up on the table and sit facing her, so you did. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and your hands started to sweat. You were so nervous. Nervous to be seen by her, nervous to be fucked by her. She looked down at you with her hooded eyes, stepping in between your legs. Her hand started at your knee, slowly dragging its way up as she spit praises at you.

“Look how beautiful you are, so perfect for me,” “God’ I’m gonna fucking ruin you, baby,” “Just let me motherfuckin’ love you.”

You gasp as her hand reaches your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. You stay watching her as she tilts your head back. She tells you to open your mouth, and you’ve never listened to someone so quick.

You open and stick your tongue out, not wavering your eye contact. She lets her spit slowly drip onto your tongue, her hold on your neck tightening, silently telling you to swallow. When you do, she moans and pushes you down onto your back on the table, ready to devour you.

She pushes your skirt up onto your hips, looking at the wet stain on your thong.

“All this for me, ma? Already? You’re so pathetic.” She says softly, her breath hitting right where you needed her most. You moan, begging her to touch you. To please you. Telling her you need her.

She pulls your underwear to the side, and dips her middle finger between your folds, slowly dragging upward.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby.” She whispers before tasting you on her finger. You wiggle under her grip as she sucks you off of her, and she holds your hips down harder.

“Stop moving, be a good girl for me and stay still, okay? Gonna make this last.”

She licks a stripe up your pussy, your back arching off of the table and your hands falling by your side. She calls you needy, and then slowly toys her middle finger around your entrance.

“How bad do you need it, ma? Show me how bad this slutty little pussy needs my fingers.” She tells you, her eyes dark with lust. You sit up onto your elbows so you can watch her now.

You beg, and beg, and beg. You tell her you’re her slut, her whore, her plaything. She laughs at you and tells you how much of a dumb little bitch you are, already so needy after practically nothing. You tell her she’s right.

You are needy. Needy for her to fucking ruin you.

She shoves two fingers into your hole, curling them up before you can even realize whats happening. Your body jolts and you scream with a mix of pain and pleasure. She doesn’t slow down. Instead she watches you. She watches your chest rise up and down at an insane pace, she watches the way your eyes scrunch up when it hurts so good, she watches the way your thighs close when she starts to thumb your clit, the way you start to lose yourself in her.

She stands up now, never letting her pace slow down. She leans over you, forehead to forehead.

“This is a wicked game you’re playing with me.” She whispers onto your lips before violently making out with you. Your tongues mix with each other and she nibbles on your bottom lip. She absorbs your moans into her own mouth, turning her on even more. She feels your back arch, making your tits press against hers. Her free hand moves down your body, feeling your nipples through your shirt.

She can feel when you’re close. She feels your body start to jerk underneath her and she can tell you’re losing yourself. You look up into her eyes, totally lost in them.

“Please, can I cum for you?” You ask in the sweetest voice Billie’s ever heard. She smiles and nods, watching you in admiration.

Billie kisses her way back down to your pussy, attaching her mouth to your clit. She wants to taste you. She wants to feel you cum in her mouth.

When you start to get louder and your breath gets uneven, she doesn’t let up. Her fingers pound into you relentlessly, and her tongue expertly works at your nub. Your body becomes full of white, hot pleasure. You scream her name, you scream for God, you just scream.

“Let ‘em know, ma. Let ‘em know who’s fuckin’ you this good.” She rasps against you, your legs now shaking from the vibration. She can tell she’s overworking you, but she knows what she’s doing.

After all, she’s tutoring you, now.

She feels you clench around her two fingers, but she still doesn’t let up. She holds you down when you try to squirm away. She doesn’t stop. She won’t ever stop. She needs to see it. She needs to taste it.

Her hand goes back to your clit now, quickly rubbing it as she stands up and watches your entire body react to her touch. As soon as she sees your eyes snap shut and your back arch higher than before, she feels it.

She feels you drip onto her fingers, down her wrist. She feels her pants get damp with the smell of you. She slows down her fingers now, letting you catch your breath as she gently kisses up your neck.

“Pathetic baby just squirted all over my hand, how’s that for teaching you something? You made a bit of a mess.” She says mockingly, but all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears. As you catch your breath, she makes her way down to clean you up with her tongue.

“We-we need to focus now.” You force out, your vision hazy and voice raw from screaming.

“Anything for you, baby. I’ll be able to really focus now that we got that out of the way.” Billie smiles up at you as she licks her fingers clean and sits you up, ready for you to teach her the subject of the class.

————————————————————————————

A/n - this is SO long sorry i couldnt fall asleep so i just kept writing

[aliesbienish]

A study of wolves

Paul Lahote x Reader.

A relocation to La Push brings more than just a new career.

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A rare sunny day was surely a good omen. You read that North West Washington state had one of the wettest climates in the country, so pulling into La Push with clear skies and warm sun rays was surely a positive sign. It was nice to finally be here, out of the bustling city and into an area of lush green trees and isolated beaches.

Deciding to apply for the graduate internship across the country was spur of the moment. Sure getting paid to complete ecological surveys of the areas wolf populations was a dream job, but you had no expectations of getting it and therefore no reason to believe you would be packing up your life. Yet two weeks ago that unrealistic dream suddenly became reality. So here you were in a small reservation town with all your belongings stuffed into the boot of your car feeling for the first time like a proper adult.

You had managed to find your way to a small wooden cabin on the outskirts of town, your home for the duration of this project. You had detoured to Seattle a few days previously to meet your new supervisor and to get training on the process, but otherwise you were pretty much autonomous. You were the only one from national parks stationed in the area, but the local La Push council were kind enough to support you during this project. They had approved use of their cabin, and negotiated to have a council member with you during work in the field. This you were rather thankful for, knowing that managing to get lost and costing the parks department money to send out a rescue wouldn’t be a good look for your career.

Stepping out of the car, and taking a big stretch, you turned around to see two men waiting on the cabins porch.

“You must be [y/n], welcome to La Push,” A smiling man in a wheelchair declared as he offered his hand to shake. “I’m Billy Black, the chief here. This is Sam Uley, he and a few others will be the ones to help you navigate our forests ,”

“Thank you for having me, it’s lovely to meet you both.”

“We just wanted to welcome you, as well as invite you out for a bonfire this evening. We tell traditional stories, and have a barbecue. But more importantly it would be a good chance to meet some locals.”

“Absolutely, as long as I’m not intruding that would be brilliant,”

“Not at all,” Sam’s deep voice replies, speaking for the first time. “My partner and I live a few houses down, we’ll collect you on our walk down so you don’t get lost,”

You smiles and nodded gratefully. After collecting the cabins keys from Billy and declining Sam’s help to move your bags, since you had so little anyway, they were on their way and you started to get settled.

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The summer sun was still high in the sky when Sam came to collect you that evening. He introduced you to his fiancé Emily who you instantly took a liking too. She seemed bubbly and inviting, happily asking questions and getting to know you. You had quickly schooled yourself when you first saw her, ignoring the scar that cut across her otherwise flawless face. However you were curious as it seemed to match the claw size of the gray wolves that roamed the area.

The walk to the beach was short and flat, and you were soon making your way out onto the sand. You heard the distant sound of chatter as Sam lead you passed driftwood and out onto the open beach. Ignoring the growing nerves settling in your stomach you followed him and Emily towards the large unlit bonfire surrounded by people. Billy was the first one you spotted and he quickly invited you over and introduced you to the other senior council members. He then called over his teenage son Jacob, who reluctantly said hi with his friends Quil and Embry.

After speaking with council members, mostly about the work you would be doing, it was time for food. Plates were passed around and you were happily munching on roast potatoes when the bonfire was lit and Billy’s voice started to reverberate around the group. The stories of the Quileute people and their shifter legends were fascinating. In particular their link with wolves sparked your interest, and you couldn’t help wonder how big the local wolf population was back in the days of Taha Aki.

Eventually the legends came to a close and you came back to reality. The older members began to pack up and Emily beckoned you over from further down the beach.

“[Y/N], hope you’re having a good time. The elders and kids will be heading off but we are staying around for a few drinks. If you’re happy to stay I can introduce you to a few people your own age.”

“That would be amazing,”

Emily smiled and thrust a can of beer into your hand which you gratefully accepted. A bit of liquid courage wouldn’t go astray. She lead you towards the small group hanging around the water.

“Hi [y/n], “ Sam greeted as you invaded the circle. “Babe,” he placed a kiss on Emily’s forehead and wrapped her into his side.

“[Y/n] is the parks worker who Billy told us about. [Y/n] this is Kim,” she pointed to the smiling short brunette who gave a small wave. “Her boyfriend Jared,” the taller boy with arms wrapped over Kim’s shoulders gave a cheery hello. “And Paul. Who along with Sam and Jared will be helping you with the study,”

You turned to face the last member of the small group, who had grunted as a greeting. Paul was the closest to you and you had to crane your neck to see him. Once you caught a glimpse of his face, which was lit by the dying embers of the fire, time seemed to slow. Your eyes met and you could hear him audibly gasp.

That trigged noise in the rest of the group that you didn’t quite understand. Emily gave a little clap, Jared and Kim giggled with each other and you were sure Sam was almost sighing in relief.

You snapped out of the trance and almost reluctantly pulled your gaze away.

“It’s lovely to meet you all, and thank you for being so welcoming.” You smiled, not realising your whole life was about to change.

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Part two

Well looks who’s branching out from Bridgerton. Thought it was time to go back to my fanfic writing roots, I almost feel like I’m 13 again. Anyone keen in a part two?

[phas3d]

Ideal Type || Slytherin Boys

note :: just what i think, but they could honestly be with anyone

members :: mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

Mattheo Riddle

Appearance:

Sharp eyes that could kill him, eye color doesn’t matter to him

Likes people with more meat on them

Goes crazy if he sees you wearing thigh highs or tight underwear so that you have a little bit of a muffin top, he loves that stuff

Loves dark hair, all of his celebrity crushes are brunettes or have black hair

Likes the y2k style and clean girl, he doesn’t know it’s called that but he likes it lmao

Loves long hair but will make an exception for a short black bob

Low rise jeans are his favorite thing ever

Pretty nails are also a pro in his eyes, shows that you’re hygienic - likes longer nails

Plump lips are a major plus

Likes outfits that show skin in some way, so crop tops, dresses, etc

Personality:

Slightly toxic, which is perfect for him since he’s ultra toxic 😍

He’s not willing to change his lifestyle just for a girl, so he needs someone who’s down to party and do the bad stuff he does

Loves confidence, wouldn’t date a girl who’s insecure

People with the wonyongism mindset are literally his dream type, makes him weak in the knees

If you yell back at him or call him out on his shit, oml he’s already planning your wedding

Loves to annoy you just to get a reaction, smth about you being angry draws him in

He likes social people who get along with others easily

A little bit cocky, but if you laugh at his jokes he instantly finds you more attractive

Dedicated and driven people, like not failing classes, having internships, having a job, all of that is so attractive to him

If you listen to: Kali Uchis, Tyler the Creator, Ariana Grande, Travis Scott, The Neighborhood, The Smiths, The Weeknd, BlackPink, Aespa, Beyoncé, you get so many extra points

Theodore Nott

Appearance:

Likes shorter people, which is easy for him since he’s 6’0 (183 cm)

Has a thing for people that are flatter, likes rectangle body types

Long hair is his ideal type but loves curly short hairstyles

Gets flustered when he sees you with your hair up, something about it is so appealing to him

Long lashes and falsies are so pretty in his eyes, loves it

Ballet-core, old-money, and minimalist are what styles he likes best on someone

Lovessss skirts and headbands

Likes people with glasses, but specifically people who wear contacts in public but glasses at home

People with the resting sad face are so beautiful to him

Personality:

Likes introverts or shy people, he likes knowing that you’re a homebody so he doesn’t have to worry about cheating

Nerds omg They’re his secret weakness

He loves book smart-street dumb people, it’s a sense of comfort knowing that you’re not involved in his life style

He’s a fuckboy who smokes and drinks, so you become a safe space for him

Quiet and soft voices are one of his biggest weaknesses

Elegance is also something he needs in a partner, someone who’s aware of their words and their actions

When someone covers their mouth when they laugh - So attractive to him

Caring and nurturing people make him want to cry, please comfort this man

If you listen to: Lana Del Rey, Billie Eilish, Mitski, SZA, Her, Adele, Yerin Baek, Matt Maltese, Radiohead, you get an extra point

Lorenzo Berkshire

Appearance:

Downtown girl, athletic wear, coquette, and other cutesy yet comfortable styles are his idea type

Really loves when someone can dress up in a nice ass outfit and then show up the next day in just a hoodie and bagggyyyy pants

Doesn’t really like tight clothes on his s/o, likes baggy or flowy clothes

Doesn’t care for body type, has dated people on the bigger size and people that were super thin

Loves any facial markings - moles, acne scars, freckles, but esp ance scars

Loves curly and wavy hair, doesn’t care for hair color but does prefer light colors like brown and blonde

Likes girls that look kinda intimidating because of how pretty they are, but are secretly a softie (basically him)

For example, people with a resting bitch face but the second they see something cute they light up

Being shorter than him is fine, but if he’s dead honest he’s always wanted to date a girl taller than him (185 cm+)

Personality:

Bubbly people make him fall so hard

People who are happy almost 24/7 and a little bit stupid and naive is what he loves

Doesn’t care about intelligence much, but doesn’t like people who are failing school

When you’re oblivious to flirting??? Omg he’s done

Wants to feel needed, so you being slightly air headed helps him a lot

Smiling makes him attracted to someone instantly, so constantly smiling and laughing makes him feel the same way

Loves people with a tad bit of sass to them, like eye rolls and stuff

Playful people who agree to do dumb shit with him suits his ideal lifestyle

Someone’s who funny, cause if I’m fr this man is not that funny. He def gets with someone who’s funny

He def had way too many crushes on manic pixie dream girls, so he kinda likes the chase

Likes people who are so free spirited that it’s hard to tie to them

If you listen to: Wave2Earth, Kpop, Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, Beabadoobee, Sarah Kinsley, Faye Webster, it’s an extra plus for him

[enviedear]

jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

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[cher-rei]

afterglow- pt 1 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x femreader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter (you) is privileged with working alongside the liverpool marketing and public relations team while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

[wc: 2.6k] [part 2] [part 3 ] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

genre(s): friends?? to lovers, work romance, fluff

notes: I've had this idea on my mind for months but I had no idea how to execute it at all. also instead of using the y/n insert, I gave the character a name even though it is read from your pov. It just made it easier to write lmao

"ms carter?"

your heart dropped at the sound of your name being called by an unfamiliar voice, which was something you were going to have to get used to. nonetheless, you turned around to see an older man approaching you with a warm smile and something in his hand.

when he got close enough he put out his hand and you politely shook it as a greeting, still not sure who you were talking to. before you could speak up however, you were interrupted by something being put in your hand.

"this is your staff id," the older man said and you took a closer look at the lanyard in your hand. the picture you had taken less than a few weeks ago was set neatly inside with your name, and position.

carter, jaime

[public relations manager- social media and marketing department]

public relations manager. those three words were enough to make you feel light headed.

you liked to think that your employment on liverpool fc's marketing team was nothing but pure luck. from the moment you handed in your resume for your university final year internship out of pure whim, then to you getting accepted for whatever reason until you got the email no less than a month after graduation asking you to come in for an interview.

all that lead up to the moment you were currently in. standing in the middle of the empty anfield stadium that you had visited for nearly every home game since you were a child. it was nothing but pure luck.

you were broken out of your daze by the older man chuckling about something, which showed that you hadn't heard a single word he said during the past five minutes. you mustered up a smile regardless to play it off and proceeded to follow him for what you thought was a building tour.

"I just realised that I never properly introduced myself," he laughed dryly and gestured for you to step into the tunnel before him. "I'm billy hogan- chief executive officer and I'm ever so sorry for being in a rush right now but I'd like you to be at the training center within the next 30 minutes."

your eyes widened in shock, your feet absentmindedly picking up its pace while hogan continued to speed through the building tour, leaving no room for questions but you decided to make a mental note to ask someone else when you got the chance.

you were escorted to the black s.u.v along with hogan immediately, running through the hundreds of questions you had at the moment. you know you only had room for one though before he was on another phone call.

"uhm sir-"

"yes ms carter?" the older man addressed without trailing his gaze from his cellphone screen or the pile of documents in front of him.

oh gosh.

you managed to clear your throat. "I'm not too sure why I'll be needed at the training center. shouldn't I be in the office or..."

when he heard you start to trail off, hogan shut the folder in his lap and turned to look at you with an expression you couldn't quite read. there was a moment of awkward silence that passed between the two of you in the backseat of the s.u.v, the driver not paying any mind to the conversation.

"our last marketing manager had to be fired because we found out that he was leaking information out to reporters and news broadcasters along with four other employees."

oh shit.

you shuffled in your seat as you tried to think of a response to the news but whenever you parted your lips to say something hogan would raise his finger as a sign that he wasn't done talking. so you swallowed the bitter taste in your mouth along with any comments and listened intently.

did it sound like he was targeting you and bordelined threatening you? yes, yes it did. but you were sure he meant well and was only trying to bring his point across.

"we're low on staff and that's why you were handed two very crucial roles and are expected to make up for the losses. you'll be working alongside the team as you read in the contract," he began once again with a knowing look which made your stomach drop.

because you didn't read the contract. not fully at least. your older sister was the one who urged you to sign it the second it was sent to your house. hell, it could've stated that you were required to donate an organ and you wouldn't have known all because your were too excited and didn't spare anything a second glance.

"but why didn't you just promote people that were already in the department instead of giving me the position straight away?"

hogan let out a dry chuckle and tended to his phone once again, not looking back at you. "because nobody else wanted the position. it's dangerous up there ms carter. so you may feel important right now, but if you can't handle the workload and expectations it's going to get messy."

well this is news to me.

to sum up hogan's lecture and recital of the contract off by heart, you were in fact set up to be working alongside the team as a higher ranking media representative because there needed to be more field work done. no pun intended.

but the fact that nobody else was up for the position didn't sit right with you.

"just make sure they look good for the camera and keep everyone entertained. you're an influencer yourself, so I'm entrusting you to keep everything in order. you were hired because you are young and are in the game already. so keep yourself level-headed and do your best."

no pressure I guess??

deciding to wear sneakers instead of heels today was by the far the best decision you've made in weeks. the weather in liverpool during september was nothing short of horrid. when you stepped out of the car your face was immediately hit with the harsh and crisp air that reminded you why you spent majority of your time indoors.

"welcome to our axa training center," hogan gestured to the building in front of you, it's ceiling to floor windows having you gawking in awe. "this is where you'll be spending a good amount of your time, but it's not as bad as it seems I promise."

what's so bad about watching a bunch of professional football players train half naked?

unlike your last building tour, hogan actually took his time showing you around this time. from the lobby, breakroom, staff rooms, gym and finally to the field where the team was out practicing-- or at least that's what you thought was happening judging by all the screaming.

the second you stepped foot out onto the field, klopp turned to look at you with a welcoming smile.

did he just sense my presence??

you felt frozen in your spot, the world had practically stopped spinning the second he called you and hogan over. when you made it over he halted his conversation with the person beside him to shake your hand.

"it's lovely to finally meet you ms carter," the team's manager politely greeted and it took every single nerve in your body for you to not do something stupid.

you bashfully laughed and brushed his comment off, "if anything, the pleasure is mine. I am extremely honoured to be working in this position."

after a few moments of getting to know each other and klopp giving you a bit of an idea of what he expected media-wise, you realised that you had work cut out for you, judging by klopp saying, "think of this as your second family. the team needs something different, and you ms carter, are exactly the home improvement that we need."

you felt like the weight of the world had just been put on your shoulders again, and his tone of utter sincerity wasn't making it any less pressurising. of course you wanted to do well and give your all into this role but it was going to take a bit of time getting used to.

I should have read that damn contract.

"would you like to meet the team?" klopp asked with a smile and lightly patted your shoulder.

the gesture alone was enough to render you speechless, and you weren't quite sure if you heard him correctly. "would I like to do what?"

"boys!"

your eyes widened in shock as he called the team over. you didn't know what to do or say, your fight or flight mode had nearly been activated and you swore you were about to sprint out of the training center, all the way back home.

you anxiously fiddled with your fingers, not knowing what to do with your hands as you watched the group of soccer players head your way with little to no care to which klopp gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "don't worry, they won't bite."

you mustered up an awkward laugh, muttering under your breath as you mentally prepared yourself for the moment. you obviously hadn't met any of them before, the closest you had gotten was going to the stadium to watch their matches.

the closest you had gotten to any interaction with any professional soccer player in general however, would be at the beginning of the year when jude bellingham followed you back on Instagram. which was still the best day of your life up to date.

you were awestruck, words unable to form as they all huddled up in front of you. you could see the sweat beading on their foreheads which caused a shiver to travel down your spine.

"boys this is ms jaime carter." klopp gestured to you and you managed a small wave, trying to ignore the sound of your heart beating in your ears. "she'll be working with us from now on, as manager of the pr manager for both the marketing and social media departments."

you were greeted with a choir of 'hello's' and listened to klopp give everyone the run-down and a little enlightenment into the situation regarding the last bundle of staff that had to be cut off so abruptly.

"pfft, snitches."

you head turned to look in the direction of the comment, that was immediately reprimanded.

"curtis," klopp started and the soccer player pursed his lips apologetically.

"sorry boss."

"aren't you a little too young to be the manager of two departments?"

your eyebrows raised at the question from harvey. klopp and hogan had to attend to a last minute call from the clubs directors so you were left with the team to "get to know each other", but most of them got back to training which left you with harvey, curtis and trent.

you shifted your weight to your right leg, your head tilting to the side challengingly as you eyed the boy. "well you're younger than i am and playing professional football. what does me being a pr manager make any difference?"

trent and curtis couldn't help but snicker at your counter, jokingly mocking their younger teammate until he got visibly irritated.

"you can't deny us the right to laugh at you," trent said jokingly and kicked the ball to harvey, who passed it to cutis again.

their banter went on for a few minutes as you watched the ball pass between the three of them until harvey spoke up again.

"you're straight out of university though so--"

his sentence was cut off by someone yelling, "ball!", to which you all instinctively looked up only to realise a little to late that it was headed in your direction.

shit.

you backed away just in time to get the ball before it hit the ground. the second it came into contact with your foot, you sent it back virgil's way to which he gave you a smile.

a familiar feeling stired up in your stomach after, but you pushed it aside and for back to your train of thought. "and you're straight out of high-school. so i rest my case."

a moment of silence took over, trent and curtis both shifting their gazes from you and all the way over to virgil who was over at the goal post.

harvey was taking the moment to recollect your high school comment. it was because he was short wasn't it? that's all people had to throw at him these days.

it was trent's turn to speak up, his eyebrows raised while curtis muttered to himself about the distance or something like that. "have you played before?"

before you could answer, your name was being called by hogan since it was time to get back to the office building. you huffed out a breath and sent the three boys a smile.

"looks like today's 'q and a' was cut short." you took a few steps back, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your puffer jacket. "you might as well stock them up for next time. I'll be more than happy to feed your curious minds."

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Thoughts on professor! Aleksander Morozova and Boss!Billy Russo x working student! Reader? 👀👀👀 I have something to say but I need to know the vibes 👀👀

DO YOU MEAN BOTH AT THE SAME TIME?

Here's the thing-

Let's say Billy and Aleksander HATE each other, Aleks rips into Billy’s business ethic for fun in his classes and Billy does wild shit just to piss Aleks off 😂

It's notorious that when they invite companies in to vet students for employment/internships that Billy and Aleks must be kept AS FAR AWAY FROM EACH OTHER AS POSSIBLE.

Except that Aleks' favourite student has caught Billy’s eye, and he wants her to intern at Anvil.

And ooooh, it's nothing more than soft lingering touches at first, both men bad talking each other and looking at reader with the fuck me eyes because they both don't want to do anything to jeopardize their social standings by sleeping with an employee/student.

Except that they lock eyes with each other on graduation day and there's a mutual understanding happening.

Aleks offers her a TA position to make it easier for her to pursue higher learning, and Billy offers a full time job and she definitely can't do both, and they both pressure her for a decision until they're just in Aleks' office hashing it out and Billy growls angrily and presses his lips to hers right in front of Aleksander thinking that he won't do anything but lo and behold, Aleks grips her chin and presses a soft kiss to her mouth too. Reader is just there stunned and dazed and the next thing she knows they're just all over, kissing her mouth and her neck and peeling her sensible shirt down her shoulders and she's just drunk on the two powerful men fighting over her.

Needless to say, they come to a compromise about her future that benefits all parties involved 🙂‍↕️

[gullemec]

Down the Rabbit Hole

Golden Cage - Chapter One

ao3

Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!reader

Summary: After living in the throes of grief for over a year, your world is turned upside down in the space of a few hours.

Warnings: use of chloroform, mention of death, depiction of grief, cigarettes, swearing, mild non-sexual bondage

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 4.3k

A/N: Hello and welcome to my first ever fic (that I'm sharing with the world lol). I have this fully written already and will be uploading new chapters weekly. I'm so excited to share this and I hope you enjoy <3

Click. Click. Click. 

Your painfully tall Louboutins emit an incessant clatter against the linoleum as you speed-walk down the hall, each step echoing louder than the last. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead buzz faintly, threatening to carve a fresh headache into the already frayed edges of your mind.

You hate these heels. The nude patent leather straps always dig into your Achilles tendon, rubbing your skin raw and leaving blisters you’ll have to nurse later. You didn’t even want to wear them today, knowing you’d stick out like a sore thumb amongst the other interns in their practical loafers and sneakers. As a matter of fact, you didn't want to be here today at all, coerced into this internship by your domineering father. 

But you did all of these things at the behest of your father's new wife. Monica. 

You tried not to hate your father's new, uncomfortably young wife from the moment you met her, tried not to fall into that tired, clichéd resentment people would expect from someone in your position. But, to be fair, she didn't try very hard not to be hateable. The fact that your father had been having an affair with her while married to your mother didn't help. It was the part where he married her less than six months after your mother died that really sealed the deal for you, though. 

Some days, you almost can’t blame her. Your father is a very rich man, with the kind of wealth that transcends mere comfort and slips into legend. Fuck you money, some might say, courtesy of CytoGenix, the pharmaceutical empire he built from the ground up. A foster kid turned multi-billionaire, he had worked obsessively, channeling his past struggles into an unrelenting ambition. He ate, lived, and breathed CytoGenix. When he'd had a bedroom installed next to his office at CytoGenix headquarters, you and your mother had made many a workaholic joke at his expense. While this was true, it was an open secret that your father partook in multiple extramarital affairs, and a bedroom in the office certainly wasn't the worst place to take a mistress. If it wasn't Monica that caught his attention there were troves of other twenty-something beauty queens that would have gladly taken her place, prior marriage vows be damned. 

Only, Monica didn't need his money. No, Monica Jones-Morgan is an executive at Vought International. Today's heroes, tomorrow's future. A veritable wunderkind, Monica did just fine for herself. Her motivations for pursuing your father remained a mystery to you.

And when your mother passed unexpectedly, leaving you bereft and reeling, Monica wasted no time taking the barely cold title of Mrs. Stanley Morgan. 

So Monica could fucking spare it when she insisted you dress the part of the Chairman and CEO’s daughter during your internship at CytoGenix. She had wasted no time asserting herself, down to the smallest details, like how you should dress for the internship your father insisted you take. Each morning you strolled into CytoGenix headquarters in the kind of outfits that screamed nepotism: Prada pencil skirts, Balmain blazers, and the Gucci lab coat that was embroidered with your initials.

The only thing this accomplished was earning you bemused looks from the other interns dressed in sensible business casual. You couldn't be certain that this wasn't some obscure hazing ritual intended to keep you from making friends in the office, because that was exactly what was happening. Despite your best attempts at endearing yourself to the other twenty-something interns on your rotation, you received nothing in return but pursed smiles and polite rebuffs to your suggestions to grab a drink after work. 

Earlier today, you tried—really tried—to prove yourself, clipboard in hand as you descended thirty floors into the basement lab with two other interns, Adam and Emily. The silence in the elevator was suffocating, but you held your head high. Down in the lab, you collected samples, filled a centrifuge, and for a fleeting moment, you felt competent. Useful. Like maybe your four years studying Biological Sciences at Cambridge weren’t just a vanity project.

But then Adam stopped you. His hand closed over the beaker you were holding, his smile tight and patronizing.

“I’m sure you don’t want to ruin your fancy lab coat. Let us handle this,” he said, his tone reeking of condescension, like a parent reasoning with a stubborn child.

Your mouth opened, ready to argue, but the words caught in your throat. The Gucci logo on your lab coat suddenly felt like a neon sign blinking above your head. You wanted to disappear.

Months spent trying to prove yourself and fit in with your peers, taking on the brunt of the workload and smiling politely through jokes made at your expense, all for nothing. Despite your airtight credentials and humble attitude, these people would simply never be able to see beyond your surname. You never had any strong desire to partake in this internship, but your father and Monica had needled you for months about it, insisting you needed the experience for when you would inherit the family business. If either of them had any interest in ascertaining whether or not you wanted that, they didn’t make it known.

So you left. Rode the elevator back up, biting the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t give them the satisfaction, but the tears stung at the corners of your eyes anyway. Briefly, the thought crossed your mind that you might call your mother and vent to her. But only briefly, before the crushing weight of reality quashed that idea, sending an icy jab to your heart. In the time since her passing these moments happened less and less frequently, but the breath-stealing pain you felt each time you were reminded of her absence had not dulled in the least. 

Now you storm down the hallway, heels clacking angrily against the tile. The remarks from the past few months replay in your head, each one another tiny dagger:

“What a surprise, the CEO’s daughter got an internship.”

“Some of us actually had to work to get here.”

And your personal favorite: “Your dad married that lady from Vought, right? Oh my god, have you ever met Homelander?”

Your pace quickens until you can’t stand the sound of your own footsteps. You stop abruptly, reach down, and rip the heels off your feet. Looking the part be damned, if you hear another click you're going to start pulling your hair out by the root, and that certainly wouldn't be becoming of the CEO’s daughter. The relief is instant, but your anger doesn’t ebb. You toss the shoes and your lab coat aside as you shove open a side door, stepping into the cool air of the alley outside.

The smell hits you first: the sharp tang of garbage mingling with the faint diesel fumes of passing trucks. You grimace, but it’s a welcome reprieve from the sterile, clinical air of the building. Leaning against the rough brick wall, you reach into your waistband and pull out a pack of cigarettes, retrieving a lighter from your bra. Your little secret, your covert rebellion against the carefully crafted image Monica insists you present to the world.

You place a cigarette between your lips and flick the lighter, shielding the flame from the breeze with your hand. But just as the spark catches, the sound of footsteps freezes you.

Someone’s coming.

Did Adam follow you out here? Had your father been watching the cameras, sending out a security guard to extinguish the flame before you could taint your precious lungs? 

But then you see a shadow move closer, and before you can react, a cloth presses against your face.

The chemical scent is overpowering, seeping into your lungs, and panic sets in as you struggle against an unseen grip. Your cigarette falls to the ground, forgotten, as darkness rushes in from the edges of your vision.

Then, nothing.

~~~

You awake to darkness and a pounding headache, like a bass drum reverberating through your skull.

Slowly, as consciousness filters back in, details trickle in: a tightness across your chest and arms, the rough rope biting into your wrists, the scratchy material chafing your face. A burlap sack, maybe? The unforgiving metal of the chair you're tied to bites into the cushion of your ass. Most bizarrely, though, is the cloying smell of cheap laundry detergent permeating the thick air around you. 

Swiftly, mercilessly, your head covering is removed. You wince at the sudden intrusion of light and blink at the three amorphous figures swimming in your vision. 

One is tall and lanky, mid-twenties at most, with a mop of dark brown hair. He stares at you with his head cocked to the side, confusion clouding his features. To his left, a wiry man with sharp cheekbones and an unmistakable French accent is holding up a photo, tilting it side to side as if the angle might help him make sense of it. The third figure, a hulking man in a trench coat, leans against the wall at the back of the room, arms crossed and scowling like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Dude, that looks nothing like her,” the lanky one says, scrutinizing your face, and then the photo. 

“Quoi? Look closely, Hughie, it is ze same hair!” The shorter one gesticulates, moving the photo around as to provide different angles. His accent is thick, French if you had to guess. “Perhaps ze light in ze alley, it was… unforgiving, no?”

“It’s not her, Frenchie.” says Trenchcoat in the back. His voice cuts through the room, sharp and gravelly, his British accent undeniable. His gaze is pure disdain as he points at you.  “You grabbed the wrong bloody person. How the fuck did you manage that?”

The three of them descend into chaos, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of accusations.

“You said she was in a lab coat!” Hughie yelps. “She was! And she had ze shoes!” “Well, her shoes are gone now and—” “Maybe you should’ve bloody checked her face!”

Their bickering makes your headache exponentially worse. You press your wrists against the ropes, but they’re bound tight, and frustration bubbles over.

“Hey!” you snap, your voice cutting through the argument like a whip. “I’m right here! Would someone mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”

The three abruptly stop and turn to look at you, clearly having forgotten about your presence in the room. The men exchange frenzied glances, none particularly eager to explain your present circumstances. 

“Uh… so, funny story…” Hughie glances nervously at the others, clearly hoping one of them will jump in. When they don’t, he grimaces. “We, uh… we made a mistake.” His tone is pleading, his expression desperate, but it does little to assuage the anxiety bubbling inside of you. 

“A mistake?” you repeat, incredulous. “You kidnapped me!”

“Technically, Frenchie kidnapped you,” Hughie blurts.

“Merci beaucoup,” Frenchie mutters, rolling his eyes.

Hughie sighs. “Look, we thought you were someone else, okay? This is just a… misunderstanding. No harm, no foul, yeah?”

“No harm, no foul?” you echo, your voice rising. “Who the hell were you even trying to grab?”

Trenchcoat steps away from the wall, his jaw tightening. He looks at you, then at the other two, and shakes his head in disgust. You take a mental note that this one must be the leader. “Hughie and Frenchie here were looking for some Pharma bigwig’s little wife and nabbed you instead.” He takes a moment to shoot the other two a look. “Now obviously you’re not her. Not even close. Bloody amateurs.”

Some Pharma bigwig's little wife? He can't be serious right now. 

You stare at him in disbelief, your pulse spiking. “You tried to kidnap my fucking stepmother?”

That gets their attention. Frenchie’s brows shoot up, Hughie’s mouth falls open, and Butcher actually pauses mid-step, his head tilting like he’s trying to piece together a complicated puzzle.

“Your stepmom is Monica Jones-Morgan?” Hughie asks in disbelief. He holds the photo up in front of you for the first time and you recognize it as her insufferably photoshopped LinkedIn profile picture. Her impossibly smooth skin, perfectly laid tresses, and inhumanly white smile seem to taunt you despite their current 2D form. Of fucking course Monica has indirectly caused even more trouble for you, because why wouldn't she?

“The one and only,” you sigh, not bothering to hide your disdain. 

Hughie swears under his breath. The three of them exchange glances, Trenchoat shooting them both daggers. 

“Fucking hell,” Trenchcoat mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Your old man married her? You’ve got some shit luck, love.”

“Tell me about it,” you deadpan.

“What are we gonna do now?” Hughie asks, his voice rising in panic. “We can’t just let her go—she’ll tell Monica, and then—”

“Oh, shut it,” Butcher snaps, silencing him with a glare. “You two’ve cocked this up enough already.”

For the second time in as many minutes, you watch the men fall into a barely comprehensible fray, voices overlapping and intruding upon one another as they deflect responsibility and place blame anywhere else. 

And, once again, you force them to remember your inconvenient presence. 

“I won't tell her.”

Your words cut through the air, silencing the men. They all turn to you, suspicion etched into their faces.

Trenchoat narrows his eyes. “Why not?”

You meet his gaze head-on, refusing to flinch. “I fucking hate that bitch. If you'd abducted the right woman,” you shoot a contemptuous look toward your kidnappers, “I can't say I would have complained.”

The room falls silent, tension thick in the air. Trenchcoat watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

“Bullshit,” he finally says, though there’s no real conviction behind the word.

“Untie her,” comes a firm, commanding voice from the doorway.

You're convinced you're hallucinating this entire experience now because the woman that appears in the doorframes is the very girl that adorned the walls of your preteen bedroom, the very woman you'd seen grace every television in the city when she joined the Seven. 

“Fucking Starlight?!” You gasp out. You suddenly feel incredibly lightheaded, the room around you taking on an unreal quality, head lolling to the side as you dip down toward unconsciousness. 

Starlight rushes to your side, placing her palm on your cheek and forcing you to look at her. 

“Hey, look at me,” she says, her voice soft but urgent. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” 

You shake your head weakly, still reeling. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Not yet,” she says with a faint smile. Then, turning to Butcher, her expression hardens. “What the hell happened?”

Hughie speaks from behind her. “We messed up, Frenchie took Monica's stepdaughter instead of Monica.”

Starlight shakes her head at Hughie. “Frenchie, what the hell? They look nothing alike.” She turns back to look at you. “Are you going to be okay?” 

You nod limply. 

“We're letting her go,” Starlight speaks with such conviction that you're given a glimmer of hope that the men might listen to her. “Butcher, I'm serious.”

Butcher. 

You lift your head to take in the man you'd only identified as Trenchcoat before now. You think Butcher is an appropriate name for the man, with his broad shoulders and cold, unflinching gaze. The kind of man whose mere presence in a room elevates the danger level, who takes up space unapologetically. 

Butcher clicks his jaw, shaking his head. “And how exactly are you going to explain this to them, hm? Sorry sweetheart, we ain't buyin’ it.”

You swallow deeply, rallying up the strength to sit straight in the chair. “I guarantee you neither she nor my father have even noticed I'm even gone yet.” You hold Butcher's gaze, refusing to shrink under his scrutiny. “Maybe I could help you.”

He scoffs. “And how exactly would you help us?” His implication pisses you off, that even this stranger that just fucking kidnapped you finds you as seemingly incompetent as everyone else in your life. 

But you hold strong, refusing to wear any emotion other than resigned bemusement. You shrug. 

“You obviously wanted Monica for something. Was it a ransom? I can get you cash,” you offer, but something tells you it's not that simple. You turn your gaze to Starlight, now knelt beside you. “Do you need information for Vought or something? Why are you involved in this?” 

She just turns and looks at Hughie who shakes his head at her. Everyone in the room just looks at you, equal parts pity and worry playing on their faces. It pisses you off even more. 

“Will someone please just tell me what the fuck is going on?! I have no loyalty to Vought or to CytoGenix or to my father or his wife, okay? Just fucking untie me and we can work something out.” Despite your outward coolness, you're afraid, and you're willing to make any deal that will secure your freedom from this increasingly bizarre situation. 

Starlight huffs from beside you. “I'm untying her.” 

“Like hell we are,” Butcher snaps, stepping forward to stop her. He stops when she shoots him a look, the lightbulbs in the room flickering with the threat.

“She’s not Monica. She’s not Vought. She’s just caught in the middle of your mess, Butcher.”

Finally, with a frustrated grunt, Butcher waves her off. “Fine. Untie her. But don’t come crying to me when this bites us in the arse.”

As the ropes fall away, you rub your wrists, staring at the group that’s just turned your life upside down. You’re free. For now.

You wrap your arms around Starlight in a desperate embrace.

“Hey, it's alright. You're okay,” she soothes. She takes a step back to look you over, ensuring you're alright. “What happened to your shoes?”

You look down to find your bare feet on the dirty cement floor. An incredulous laugh escapes your mouth as you realize those damned Louboutin heels must still be in a heap with your lab coat, left in the alleyway. Like you'd evaporated and left behind a puddle of overpriced luxury brands. 

This was no dream. 

~~~

You're nestled on an old couch, warm cup of tea in hand. It’s lukewarm now, but you cling to it like a lifeline, its earthy aroma the only thing grounding you in this surreal nightmare. A scratchy blanket is tucked around your shoulders and it absolutely reeks of the same cheap laundry detergent that assaulted your nose when you first awoke in this place. This is because, as Hughie explained, you are in fact in the basement of some rinky-dink laundromat in Brooklyn. The dark and damp space is currently serving as a clandestine base of operations for the group you've suddenly found yourself thrust into. 

Around you, the room feels too quiet, too full of unspoken tension. 

Butcher sits across from you on the coffee table, his elbows braced on his knees, his intense gaze drilling into you. Starlight lingers by your side, her presence warm but oddly dissonant in the damp, shadowy basement. Hughie leans against a defunct washing machine, while Frenchie lingers on the periphery, the two exchanging occasional glances. You know they're uneasy having you here, and you can’t blame them. You’re a liability. Still, the vulnerability cuts both ways; you’re not exactly thrilled to be trapped in a basement with people who kidnapped you less than an hour ago.

Butcher finally breaks the silence. “Your stepmum, is Monica Jones-Morgan. She’s an executive at Vought, yeah?”

You nod, unsure of where this is heading but too stunned to push back.

“She’s been orchestratin’ some very interesting deals between Vought and CytoGenix. That ring any bells?”

You nod again. You knew that your father's marriage to Monica had been mutually advantageous, outside of the fact that he was filthy rich with a couple heart attacks under his belt and she was young and did Pilates twice daily. It had been their plan all along to partner the companies. In fact, it had been at a meeting to discuss the venture that the two had initially met. 

Butcher narrows his eyes, watching your reaction like a hawk. “You heard anything about a new project? Something they’ve been keeping quiet?”

That you didn't know. “No? I mean, I know some things, but I'm not exactly sitting in on board meetings.”

His lips press into a thin line. “That’s what we were hoping your dear stepmum could tell us. Something big’s brewing between Vought and CytoGenix, something nasty. And if it’s nasty enough for them to be so secretive, we need to know what it is.”

You glance at Starlight, desperate for some sense of sanity in this madness. “Okay? Why is this worth kidnapping someone over? I mean, so what if my dad is working with Vought? How bad could this project possibly be?” You search her eyes for answers, but she avoids your gaze. “You're in the Seven, for fuck’s sake. What are you doing here if these guys are trying to kidnap someone that you work for?”

Butcher and Starlight share a look. You really wish everyone would stop fucking looking at each other and just tell you what's going on. She turns to look at you and places a hand on your knee. 

Starlight sighs, her shoulders slumping.  “It’s worse than you think. Vought isn’t… what you think it is. They’re not saving people. They’re killing them. Covering it up. They’ll do anything to protect their power.”

You pull back from her, head reeling. There's no way. She has to be lying. Sure, you hated Monica, but you trusted the work she did. You'd toured Vought Tower, shook hands with Homelander and Queen Maeve. Despite having grown out of your preteen obsession, you'd been pleased when you saw Starlight join the infamous crime fighting team. Vought was as American and trustworthy as apple pie and baseball. 

You blink at her, struggling to process her words. “Killing people?” you repeat, your voice almost a whisper.

But then an image flickers in your mind. A Vought stamp adorning a manila envelope, the image of it in your mind alone nauseating you. A year and a half of grieving your mother. Eighteen months of filing requests, calling office after office, and dealing with a barrage of bureaucratic red tape. The envelope was slipped under your apartment door, no postage attached. Inside, page after page of incomprehensible medical jargon, anatomical diagrams affixed with chicken scratch notes you could barely decipher. There was one thing you understood, though, and it was written in thick, block letters next to ‘Cause of Death’.

Accidental. No sign of foul play. 

They’re not saving people. They’re killing them.

“Who?” you ask, searching the Supe's eyes. 

“All of them, Homelander, The Deep, Ashley Barrett, they're all‒”

“No,” you interrupt. “You said they're killing people. Who are they killing?”

Starlight pauses, gaze falling to her lap. She considers her next words carefully, unsure of just how much information is safe to give you. With a deep breath she returns your stare. 

“Anyone that stands in their way.”

You want to vomit. 

“Katherine Morgan,” you murmur, your voice cracking. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

Starlight tilts her had. “No. Was she—?”

“My mom,” you say. “She died last year. They said it was an accident, but the report… it came from Vought.”

The room stills. Even Butcher looks momentarily thrown.

You swallow, suddenly unsure of why you're sharing this with a room full of strangers and your childhood hero. But there was something here, something that confirmed a suspicion you'd never voiced before today.

“Holy shit,” Hughie breathes. He straightens, pushing off the washing machine. “That’s how they do it. Same thing happened to me, with Robin. They covered it up. Called it an accident.”

“So does that mean…?” Frenchie asks, staring at a stricken Hughie. 

“We don't know that for sure, we don't need to scare her more than we already have,” Starlight says, patting your leg over the blanket, but it provides no comfort. 

You turn to face Hughie. “Who’s Robin?”

Hughie’s face crumples, the pain raw even now. “My girlfriend. A-Train ran through her… Literally. Killed her. Vought made it disappear.”

If you weren't already sitting, you're certain you would have collapsed onto the floor. The pungent air feels thin and suffocating. 

“So you’re saying…” You swallow hard, your chest tightening. “You’re saying a Supe might’ve killed my mom?”

“It’s possible,” Starlight says, her voice gentle. “I’m sorry, but… it’s not out of the question.”

The weight of her words hits you like a punch to the gut. Your grip on the mug tightens as your world tilts on its axis. Before you can stop yourself, you’re on your feet, the room spinning around you.

“Whoa, easy,” Butcher says, catching you as your knees give out. He guides you back to the couch with surprising gentleness, his hands firm but steadying. He crouches before you, eyes fixed on yours. 

The man still fills you with fear, and his demeanor is frankly off-putting, but something about the gentle way he pulls the blanket back around you quiets the rageful beating of your heart. You tether your consciousness to the firm grip he holds on your shoulders, forcing your mind to steady. He gestures to Frenchie, ordering that he get you another cup of tea. 

You clutch the blanket tighter around yourself, staring down at the scuffed floor. “If I agree to help you,” you finally say, your voice shaky but determined, “will you help me find out what happened to my mom?”

Hughie and Starlight exchange a look, both nodding almost in unison.

Butcher tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “And what exactly are you offerin’ to do for us?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, meeting his gaze despite the fear prickling your skin. “But if it means taking down Vought, I’ll do whatever it takes. Just tell me what you need.”

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and he leans back, his hands resting on his knees.

“Alright boys, looks like we've got ourselves a bonafide mole here.”

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Not What I Planned." Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader.

Well hello! It is the amazing and fantastic @eggsandbeer birthday so, so soon! But I am meeting Matt and Skeet tomorrow and my brain is gonna be all on Billy and Stu post that, so you get this now! This is my first time writing Rusty, I watched Joy Ride 2 six times while writing this. I love Riri, she is so fucking awesome and I adored doing this. She has a more personalized version but gave the go ahead to post a reader insert version for you all! So let's go!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.7K (I Know.) Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Customer Service Work. Asshole Customers. Murder Mentioned. Drinking. Making Out. Man Handling. Fingering. Masturbation. Blow Job. Cum Eating. Vaginal Sex. Riding. Taunting. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Praise. Pet Names.

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You hate your job, it is exhausting, mentally and physically, a total drain, but you do all you can to not let it get you down. You focus on the little things, good customer interactions, great coworkers and the times you are truly able to get away from your work. It isn’t like it’s what you wanted to do for the rest of your life anyway, far from it, in fact one of those vital lifelines that helps keep you sane is a local news internship, it gives you some good experience for what you hope to actually eventually do with your life along with giving you purpose. 

Today is not good, though, off to a less than ideal start. This is decidedly not the way you wanted to spend your birthday. Rolling into the grocery store to do a closing shift, apron in your grip and bag over your shoulder, half-hearted waves to co-workers as you strolled through towards the area you could safely stow away your stuff until you are allowed to clock out. You do just that, drop your stuff in the usual place, get your uniform situated and punch in, ready for another day of God knows what bullshit. 

Your mind was at least slightly occupied, where you work is en route to the Burning Man festival which meant that you were busy as fuck with people loading up on supplies before they arrive to their final destination, it kept you busy. As for what kept your brain whirring, your internship had tasked you with writing a piece on the crowd that is rolling through on their way, meaning you are watching and listening intently. It looks like you aren’t from the outside, hands stacking a fruit display, but ears open, all sorts of talk about events the Burners were amped up for, how much further they had to travel, what snacks were the best and would keep in the desert heat. 

You did some actual work naturally, finding yourself crouched and cleaning out a stubborn drain, the process thoroughly annoying and honestly degrading, and not in the fun way you usually liked. It was your fucking birthday, for Christ’s sake, you should be indulging in the fun kind of calve burning, not the bent over and unclogging kind. Still, you try to stay in higher spirits and certainly not show it outwardly, if someone squinted hard enough, they might be able to pick up on it. 

Later on, you had just finished making a new display, standing back and looking at the gorgeous display of apples you’d spent longer than you cared to mention on, hands on your hips. The first genuine smile that had graced your face since clocking in and wasn’t tinged with a single hint of perfectly practised customer service fakeness. This is one of those moments you felt genuine pride in your work, a glimmer of nicety in all the bullshit. 

It lasted for two whole seconds.

A customer’s cart hits you in the hip and wrist simultaneously because of how you were standing, the action both painful and shocking, completely unexpected. It makes you step to the side, grip your wrist with your other hand, the pain is throbbing and dull, it isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, but it still sucks and should have never happened in the first place. The customer doesn’t apologize. Worse still, they stride forward, pick a single apple from the middle of the display, causing half of it to tumble over. The customer scoffs with a roll of their eyes, they drop the apple into their cart to look around, seeming to notice you just now for the first time, only then acknowledging you. They give a pointed look from you to over their shoulder, a motion of their head as they criticized your work, “Not very sturdy.” 

Your mouth falls open, and they tut as they walk away, leaving you dumbfounded with fifteen some odd apples scattered on the ground that you had to clean up and a display you had to rebuild. 

Later still, you are sweeping, trying to get these damn onion skins up, but they aren’t moving. You are half focused, conversing with one of the Burners, they are asking for your opinion on what kombucha is best, and you are humouring them and getting a few questions answered along the way. 

Throughout all the regular work crap, you’d been having small conversations with people, writing brief notes for your project, and it was nice getting some serious stuff down about it, served as a half decent distraction too. 

His initial thought is that it was reminiscent of a zoo, upon greater thought while attempting to park the Peterbilt he decided swiftly that it was worse than that, a fucking circus. He manages to park and decides that getting in and out as fast as possible would be vital to maintaining his sanity. He was aware that Burning man was happening, naturally, but still the place was crowded as all Hell, more than he had been anticipating. Rusty didn’t like large crowds of people, but he needs some supplies, he needs to eat. 

It isn’t any better inside. 

He is making his way around, hat pulled low, basket in his grip, grabbing a few drinks, some favoured snacks that he knew kept well, he was passing by the produce, almost ready to get the fuck out. He goes into your department, he is grabbing bananas and thinking about getting some of those pre-cut carrot and celery sticks. Rusty is trying to be a tad more health minded, not like it would do much with how much he enjoys a good smoke but better to do something than nothing he supposed. 

His train of thought is broken when he hears a loud exclamation of, “I can’t believe how fucking stupid you are!”

Rusty’s head turns, he catches sight of you, standing there, trying to look apologetic as some older lady is verbally ripping into you, “I’m making lemon chicken LEEK stroganoff, right?”

She is looking at you expectantly, your eyes wide, and with that half customer service forced smile you nod and say through gritted teeth, “Right.” 

“So tell me, how. Am I. Supposed. To make. Lemon, chicken LEEK stroganoff without LEEKS?” The way she said it was infuriating, the halting, pausing way of it, so condensing, as if you were the cross between an idiot and a child all rolled into one. 

“I don’t know, ma’am. I guess you can’t. I’m very sorry.” You admit it reluctantly, knowing she won’t like your response, and she does not. She goes off on you, “Well I’ve had this menu planned for WEEKS, I have company coming tonight! You have to make this right!” 

Rusty was listening in, brow pinching, this woman was off her rocker, what a complete bitch. You were trying to calm her, smooth over the situation, and she was being worse and worse to you. No matter what you say, she wouldn’t stop freaking out. 

“I really am very sorry. I could call another store nearby and ask if they have any leeks?” You offer up, and she scoffed with a laugh, “So I can make ANOTHER stop? Do you not remember? I am hosting a dinner party tonight, I’m busy! I have other places to go, I can’t be here fighting with you over this all night!”

And yet she was still here, doing just that. 

He had turned, wasn’t watching quite as subtly as he was previous. You were doing your best and none of it was measuring up to this crazy, impossible standard that was being set out. He was looking at you, and he could see that you were taking it hard, your customer service face and voice were holding strong, but your eyes? They looked so sad. 

You reminded him of a kicked puppy, as the woman finally had enough of being a raging cunt and stormed off. Right after that, someone else in uniform walked by, a manager? And on their way, they said, “Happy birthday.”

You gave a small, “Thanks.” along with half a wave as they strode past. You were not only working on, but getting treated like that, on your birthday? 

It got to him, hit him square in the chest, shot to the heart. A sigh and he looks over, he makes a note of the asshole who mistreated you so, he has a little time before they check out before he can go dispose of them in the parking lot for being so unreasonable and rude to you. It might be too far for some people but not for him, people like that, there is no changing them, not at her age, some people don’t deserve to live. 

First things, first though, he saunters over to you, a small clearing of his throat before he asks, “Got a date tonight, there a drink you’d recommend?” 

You turn towards the low and smooth voice, you have to turn your head up to look at him properly, he was taller than you. The way he was standing, the angle, and how he wore his hat you couldn’t see his face, brim pulled too low, standing a few feet away.

A small inhale and your smile turned more genuine before you reply, “Oh, our Pink Champagne is my favourite. I get that on special occasions.” 

Well, how fucking perfect a find were you? Kind, respectful, hardworking, and you have good taste. 

“Thank you.” He said it easily with a wave of his hand in acknowledgement and broke away. You watch him go and think to yourself that he is cute, in that particular way that strikes you when an older guy catches your eye just so. The interaction doesn’t stick with you however, you turned and saw more fucking onion skins that needed sweeping up.

Hours later, you finally get off of work, messed up apron in one hand and looking forward to getting the hell home. You had two days off ahead, you were intent on a bath and partaking in some drinks in your fridge with a good record on when you get home. You are walking through the dark and now very empty parking lot, your mind only focused on reaching your car, sliding behind the wheel and getting home as soon as possible, when you hear a voice calling out. Your car keys are in one hand, the keys between your fingers, sticking out and ready to punch a would be attacking if you need to. 

Hearing the voice makes you put your head on a swivel, initially scared, you look and then see it is that older gentlemen you helped out earlier. You pause, and he comes a little closer, again in the dark and with that hat you can’t make out much except for the orange glow of the end of his cigarette, partially illuminating the lower half of his face. He calls out your name, following it with a question of, "-right?” 

“Hi, yeah it is.” You were still sightly on edge until he is holding up the very same bottle you suggested earlier, “Wanted to say thank you for your recommendation, properly.” 

Your brows raise up, you saw him in the store hours ago, meaning he should in theory be long gone, and you ask, “I thought you had a date?” 

“I do. I was just waitin’ for her to get off work.” Even though you couldn’t see it fully, you could hear the smile in his tone, and it makes one spread to your own face. “Oh, my apologies, I didn’t realize that was you asking me out.” 

The tone you said it in was very light, and he seemed equally amused, “Sorry bout that, terrible manners on my part, truly.”

There is a beat of silence, and you say, “I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.” 

“So you’d be willing to join me?” He asks, you nod, you felt endeared to him very quickly, the confidence he displayed, the boldness, you were charmed and figured why not? You had the time tonight, nothing wrong with enjoying a birthday drink bought by a courteous man. 

“Where are we going to go?” You ask, and he gestured over to the large shiny black Piterbilt towards the back of the lot. “Was thinking my truck, if that’s alright with you?”

When he asks in that delicious tone of voice, you think that yes, it is very alright with you. “Lead the way.” You prompt, and he does, you fall into step beside him, apron is thrown over your shoulder, and you asked, “So you’re a truck driver?”

“How’d you ever guess?” He asked on an exhalation of his cigarette with a glance over to you. Now you can catch the half smirk on his face, unable to make out his eyes completely, but it didn’t bother you, honestly you kind of dug the mysterious kind of thing, not even fully knowing what he looked like. If anything that communicated how into him, you were, hadn’t even seen his whole face but his voice and how he carried himself was more than enough to convince you to this odd kind of unexpected date. 

“I’m real intuitive. Call it a gift.” You mused, and he liked you, even in how you joked, there was no real meanness to it, could tell that it was all in fun and that inherent niceness shone through. “Giving me gifts when it’s your birthday? Isn’t that what M’ supposed to be doing?” 

That gives you some slight pause, how in the fuck did he know that it was your birthday? Before any serious question could be made, you were next to his truck on the passenger side. You look it over and say honestly, “Nice truck.”

“Thanks, do my best to take real good care of it, s’ seen some rough times.” You look a little closer, scrutinizing, if it had, you couldn’t tell, the thing looked clean and not a scratch on it. You turn and lean against it, you realize he had gotten some cups that were also sold at your work, he holds them out, “Mind holding these while I open this?”

You nod and take them out of his outstretched hand and watch as the last remainder of his cigarette was dropped and ground under the heel of his boot. He uncorks the bottle with ease, doesn’t spill any or cause it to overflow, which mildly impresses, you hold out the cups and he fills them. The bottle is set aside on the ground and after passing him his cup he asked “Any words to share?”

“Here’s to the weekend?” You offered up after a moment’s thought, and he said, “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks yours and his cups together, and you take a sip of the sweet and familiar fizzy alcoholic drink. 

“Seriously the shift I had today was rough, so this is really nice, thank you-” Then you realize you don’t know his name, he clearly picks up on this and says, “Name’s Rusty. Rusty Nail.” 

Immediately you figure it must be his CB handle, you wonder if Rusty is his real name, but also you don’t think it matters much, you don’t press, “Well thank you, Rusty, really.” 

“S’ my pleasure. Heard how that woman was going off on you earlier, some people can be so rude.” Is that what prompted this? The total bitch who was freaking over leeks? If so, you think that maybe her being such a raging cunt wasn’t such a bad thing if it led to this. 

Little did you know that Rusty had taken care of her, she was currently stuffed in the trunk of her own car, way, way on the other side of the lot, body long since gone cold. 

The conversation then turned to you both complaining about a shared distaste for rude and unreasonable people, he let you vent about your day and previous horrible customers at your job. As the conversation went on, you find yourself enjoying his company more and more. You also find yourself standing closer to him, half the bottle gone, he’s had another smoke, and you are leaning on him much more than the truck, he doesn’t mind, you sigh to him, “I cannot believe the crap you have to put up with, it’s so unfair!” 

“Some people have some really unsavoury and outdated views on people in my line of work.” He admits with a nod, and from what he’d shared it seemed like. There are people who say the meanest shit, make horrible assumptions, treat him like dirt or worse, a feeling you know all too well at your own job. You relate to Rusty. 

You’d been talking for an hour, and it was even later, darker, and a shiver unexpectedly ran up your spine, “You cold?”

You were a little, you were in a t-shirt and after standing in one spot for so long this late the chill had somehow set in. “Yeah, surprisingly I am a bit.” 

Then he made an interesting offer. “You want to get in my truck, warm up?” 

You think you really did want that. “Yeah, that’d be great, actually.” 

He moved back then and so did you, he opened the door for you, and you looked up, Christ it was big, how were you supposed to get in while in your slightly buzzed state without looking like a total clown? You feel him against your back, he asks, “Need some help?”

You nod, unsure of what he means or how he is going to help but trusting him all the same, it’s then that you feel his hands on you. He turns you, and then those same hands find your waist with ease and grip. He lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you realize to him, you probably do, as he helps hoist you into the passenger side of the truck. Rusty sits you on your ass in the seat and your face feels much hotter, he just scooped you up and set you down so fast, one simple and fluid motion as he stepped one foot up on the running board, and then there you were. You are side-saddle, legs dangling down and far off of the ground. His hands leave you quicker than you’d like, sliding off your waist and stepping back down. You are a bit dazed, his hand touches your ankle, and you jump, he laughs at your surprised, “What?”

“You wanna get your legs in, so I can close the door?” You nod and do so, swinging your legs in, and he shuts the door. Your hand, that had been clutching your bag and apron, dropped them on the floor by your feet. You look down into your cup, you hadn’t spilled any even when he picked you up, the cup is raised, you tip it back and swallow down the remainder. A sigh and you pull the cup back, hand still clutching it, comes to rest on your thigh as your thumb on your opposite hand swipes a stray drop from the corner of your mouth. He had come around to the other side, he has the door open and is sliding in beside you into the driver's seat, he’d picked up the bottle on the way, and you were contemplating asking for more.

As if reading your mind he gestures for your cup, you lean over, holding it out, and he pours you some more, you asked him, “So before, you were talking about all the bad stuff about truck driving, but what about the stuff you do like?”

The question seems to surprise him if his tone is any indication, “The stuff I do like?” 

He has pulled the bottle back, he isn’t pouring more for himself, you respond to his question with another of your own, “Yeah, what makes the job worth it? Other than the money.” 

Rusty considers the question for a moment before he says, “I like seein’ the country, like being by myself most of the time but most of all? Probably seems obvious, but the freedom of it.” 

You nodded, it made sense and asked, “Can go anywhere, do anything?” 

“S’actly.”  

The silence is as surprisingly comfortable as the passenger seat of this truck is. The thought hits, and you say it without thinking, “I dunno how you do it.” 

“What? Truck drivin’?” He asks, and you say with a turn to him, “Yeah! Like, the actual driving it.”

He laughs, and you press on, one hand holding your cup and the other making like you are gripping a steering wheel that was comically large, pretending to turn it, “Seriously! This thing is massive, it’s a beast! How can you control it?”

“Ain’t that hard really, just gotta be the right mix of careful and confident.” He assures, and you laugh, “You make it sound so easy, I’ve never driven anything this big, that-” You point out the window to your much less impressive ride, “-is my car over there.” 

“Yeah, don’t quite measure up, does it?” He teases and you grin, “Nope. But I don’t think I could drive anything like this.”

“I think you could.” A small pause before he asks the big question, “Wanna try?” 

You nearly choke on your sip and pull the cup back, wiping at your mouth, “What? Me? Drive the behemoth? You want to write it off that bad, Rusty?” 

“You cannot be that bad a driver.” He scoffs. 

“Rusty, you barely know me, I dunno-” He insists, “C’mon, I’ll help.”

“Help?”

You were curious enough to allow it to happen, you’d not counted on his idea of help being putting you in his lap. He’d moved the seat back enough and encouraged you to climb on, emboldened by both the drink and his encouragement, you slide on into the space he made. He moves the seat forward enough to do the pedals, and he places your hands on the wheel, his hands covering yours. “You sure this is a good idea?” 

Nerves were setting in, you’d been drinking, not a lot but also all the close contact with him was getting to you, his attractiveness was apparent during your brief meeting earlier but now that you'd’ been getting to know him? He was becoming even more appealing, being sat in his lap, your back to his chest, his hands on yours, you felt flustered. Sounded by him in both touch and scent, it could be enough to make your head swim if you let it. In your current position, his voice is over your shoulder, “Positive. You’ll be fine.” 

The tone of voice he says it in, the conviction, he makes you believe it. 

One of his hands leaves yours briefly to start her up, the truck rumbles to life, and it makes you jump slightly, Christ it was loud and is vibrating like all Hell. “We’ll just do a lil’ loop, alright? M’ doing the pedals, you just steer her real easy.” 

He had to speak louder to be heard over the hum of the truck, and you pitch your own volume up to be heard, “Yeah, real easy, can do.” 

His foot comes down slowly, and he eases it forward, you grip the wheel tightly and let him lead. He talks you through the process, and it helps, you focus your eyes forward and your ears on listening to his smooth voice praising you, “Uh-huh, around the pole, use it as a guide.” You swallowed and nodded, brows knit together as he keeps talking, “Oh good job, see? You’re doing it.” 

His hands squeeze yours reassuringly, your mouth feels dry, you nod and say quieter than you should, “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, you’re doing most of the work.” You feel that isn’t truthful but again, he talks, you believe. 

“Almost all the way around, a little further-” Both his hands leave yours, sliding down your arms and choosing to come to rest on your waist again, letting you fully be in control. It makes you tense, rushing out, “Rusty, wait-”

Another flex of his hands, another show of comfort, he says easily, drawling out, “Calm down, you’re doing it all yourself.” 

You aren’t fully convinced until you’ve made the full loop, and he lets off the gas, he turns off the car and your shoulders slump, what he says next, makes you melt, “I told you. You’re perfect.” 

That does something, makes a particular part of you break, or is it wake up? Either way, a certain section of you, somewhere aside, comes alive, and instead of wanting to run from it, you chose to grab onto the live wire of sensation with both hands. The truck has stopped, but you keep moving, the urge overcomes, and you turn in your seat and in his lap, one hand comes up, meets his cheek, feeling the rough stubble. He’d already gotten you the champagne, but you think you want more still, and you ask, “Can I be selfish?”

“S’ your birthday, be as selfish as you want to.” You take that is more than enough of an invitation. You lean up and in, push the brim of his hat up enough to give yourself the appropriate access, and you kiss him. 

He had a feeling it was going this way, but thinking and experiencing are two different things. You choosing to take the lead was better than he could have been hoping for, though. Your mouth was so fucking soft, you felt warm, he tried to take it easy, but this is the kind of thing he can’t help getting swept up in. Chances like this don’t come around often, the urge to rush is present, he manages to ignore it, preferring to savour it, or rather, savour you. He lets himself relax further into the seat, returning your affection immediately. 

The scratch of his facial hair against your skin feels better than you’d hoped it would, you let out a soft exhale, a sound on the precipice of a moan while still falling just short. His hands are still on your waist, he nudges you closer, you lean in more, your head tilts, his lips part, and he tastes more like cigarettes than he does the champagne, but it’s there. Your tongue makes the first exploration and sticky sweet fruit is unearthed from below smoke and ash. 

One of his hands slides down, a brief pass over your thigh, and you wonder where it’s going, you realize in short order when the seat you are both on moves back, giving you more space, making it, so you aren’t quite as locked up against the steering wheel. Heat is sparking inside, your hand moves from his face, slipping to rest on his neck, your other hand comes up to his shoulder, fingers grip the jacket he has on and the want becomes too much. You grind down on him. 

The shifting and adjusting allows you to feel how hard he was growing, a harsher inhale, and you begin to scramble, you want more contact, you move to be fully straddling him, no more twisting partially around like you currently were. You are seated just right soon enough, ass firmly planted, and you think fleetingly God he had some solid thighs, strong, you felt very well-supported. 

The making out was only paused briefly while you changed position, you’d gotten right back into it, your mouth slotting back against his with a hum that sounded like his name. You grind again and this time he returns it, rutting up into you, and the friction makes you actually moan this time. The taste, the feeling, and two minutes more of making out is all it takes for you to break, pulling back once his touch had gotten bolder, one having slid up your body, palming one of your tits through your work shirt easily with how large his hands were. You arch into him, breaking the kiss you beg, “Fuck, Rusty, more.”

You are close enough now that you can see his smile as opposed to just hear it, his hand moves and starts to go under your shirt, rough fingers on bare skin and steadily moving up, brushing the edge of your bra. Not quite a laugh but more than an amused releasing of air, he asks, “More?” 

A frantic nod, another squirm of your hips and he asks, “How much more? C’mon, tell me.”

He wants you to say it and you want it desperately enough that it’s no issue, far from it, if anything him making you say it, makes you want it more, makes you feel hotter. “Fuck me?”

“I like your directness.” Thank God for that. “Just have a lil more patience with me, alright?” 

When he asks in that tone, you think you’d do just about anything. A small nod and he needs to get his fill of you just a hair more. Hands explore, groping, feeling, it teases both of you, trying to get a sense of your body before the clothes come off, mind running over just how you’ll feel with nothing in the way. You remain good, you let him feel, minimal squirming on your part, even when he starts kissing your neck as the hand that isn’t up your shirt kneads your ass. Only when you feel your underwear literally plastered to you and your cunt ache incessantly do you whine his name again. 

He mercifully acquiesces, “Okay, okay, I hear you.” 

He eases up, a gesture of his head for you to move to the passenger's seat, “Gonna need you out of those clothes for what you really want.” 

You rush to comply. Once in the passenger's seat, sitting sideways, still facing him, looking at him, your hands catch the bottom hem of your shirt and as if anticipating that you intended to frantically tear it off, he stops you. One hand out and that sweet but firm tone, commanding, "Do it slowly." 

Your face feels hot, and you do as instructed, slowing your movements right down, pulling the shirt up, exposing your stomach and then your bra. Higher and higher until you have taken it off, tossing it in the direction of your bag and apron. Next you have your thumbs hooked in the waist of your pants, arching your hips you start to slide them down, you watch him, try to gauge his reaction, but it’s hard in the low lighting. He gives a nod to show he’s pleased so far, encouraging you verbally too, “Go on.” 

Shoes removed, pants follow, soon you are in just your underwear, and he speaks, a small gesture of your body, up and down, “S’ a good start but keep going.” 

You reach behind yourself, start to unhook your bra, and he is still talking, “Dying to see the rest.” 

You swear you can feel his eyes raking over every exposed inch of your skin. A small thought strikes, you follow it, slipping your arms out of the straps but holding the cups to your chest, an indulgent smile, a rise of your eyebrows, and he clicks his tongue, you play dumb and ask, “What?”

“You’re being a tease.” He states, and you ask in a tone of mock innocence, “Am I?” 

He says more seriously. “Drop it.” 

Unsure if he means your bra or the act, you chose to abandon both. You let the padded fabric slip out of your hands, a spread of your legs, you wonder if he can tell how wet you are from here. He moves too now, you weren’t expecting it, he falls to his knees in the space between your seat and his. Hands come to your hips and the sudden contact makes you jerk with a sharp inhale. His mouth catches yours in another kiss, you return it and moan, his mouth doesn’t stay on yours for long, trails down, jaw and neck, one on your shoulder and lower.

He is confident, he’s taking what he wants and you more than let him, you enjoy every rough scrape of his well worked hands, pass of his lips and nip of his teeth. His warm breath fanning over your chest is welcome, one hand has moved again, over your hip and now on your inner thigh, his thumb is close enough, and he runs it up you, swipes up your clothed slit. You sigh, eyes falling closed, relishing the contact, you are sure now he can feel how wet you are. He runs it back down and then up again, a press just right, and you moan between the friction on your clit and his mouth now on your chest. 

He found it so easily and judging by the smile you can feel against the curve of your breast, he is just as pleased. Rusty abandons the current pleasant task, fingers hooking in your underwear, “I got a feelin’ it’d be a fight to get these off you too, an’ I just can’t wait.” 

You couldn’t either, not anymore. 

Assisting with a move of your ass up, he gets them off, and now you are naked in his semi-truck. You want to jump him, but he is holding you down by your thighs, taking in the view of you unobstructed, totally bare. “Fucking gorgeous.”

A hand reaches out, catches his jacket, and you tug as you tell him, “I feel really exposed right now, you wanna lose some of these?”

“S’ only fair.” He agrees, he removes his jacket and asks, “Wanna give me a little show while I fix myself?” 

It is a request, but you take it like it’s an order. Hand between your spread legs, fingers trace up, catching ample wetness and spreading it up, circling sensitive tissue, making your thighs tense and a small moan fall from your lips. “There you go.”

The praise helps, you increase the pressure, and he hums in approval. Shirt is gone, belt is opened more and more revealed until he is in a similar state of undress. The view of him stripping all for you is insanely helpful. Pleasure is filling you easily and once he is ready he asks, “You mind if I-?”

“However you want me, please.” It leaves you needy and breathless. He steps in, he moves your hands away from yourself, and starts to adjust you to his liking. You like it, you think he can be rougher honestly, you are put on your knees, facing the passenger window, a hand on your back, adjusting you more, hips tilted up, and you feel him against you. The bump of his shaft between your thighs and over your clit is already very good. “Ready, yeah?”

A shaky nod, “Please Rusty-”

The one word and his name is all you are able to get out before he is lining up just right, you hold your breath in anticipation, he spits into his own hand, strokes himself, the extra lube as courtesy is appreciated. He slides in, and you let out a gasp, he doesn’t do it easily, taking you in one firm stroke, hand on your hips as his come to rest against your ass. He revels in you, the tight, soaked heat of you, his head tips back slightly as he soaks it before he starts to move. Pulling out halfway before driving forward, your hands scrabble for the window’s edge, you hold onto it like a lifeline as you gear up for what is already promising to be the ride of a lifetime. 

His thrusting is firm, just like him, steady and sure, a good and even pace. It leaves breathless, not caring about being overheard, not like anyone could in the empty parking lot. A heavy breath from him, “Fucks sake, you’re soaked.” 

You were moaning, incoherent pleas, along with his name, you were more than warmed up, each drag of his thick shaft in and out increasing the feeling. Fingers dig into the meat of your hips, he pulls you back as he drives forward, and you move too, rocking backwards to meet him. “Tight as Hell, can barely fit myself in here.” 

“Keep talking, never, ever stop talking.” Is the one thought in your brain as you moan dumbly. You aren’t thinking much, unable, but you are feeling. Rusty was so kind to you, was totally turning your birthday around, making you feel incredible, spoiling you, and you want to do the same. His hands are roaming and that won’t do, you need to stop him before you are fucked into total submission and wrecked. Another minute, just another minute, you tell yourself, eyes are half open and brain hazy. The glass is so fogged up you can’t see out of it, could write your name but if he asked you doubted your hands would be steady enough. Could you even spell your name right now with what he was doing to you? 

Finally, you reach back, hands on his hips, “Ru-Rusty, please, stop-”

“Something the matter?” He asked, holding deep, all the way to the hilt inside you. His hands smooth up your sides, fingers trace the curves of your chest before coming back down again, and you shiver, clenching on his shaft. 

“Gotta, fuck, do something. Pull out?” He listens, he does so, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”  

The pet names, fucking Christ the pet names, you are forcing yourself to move. It happens quickly. You turn, and then you push him, so his back is against the seat of the driver's side. He takes the hint, sits up on the seat sideways, and then you are the one on your knees. Between his spread thighs, you lean down, a hand locks around the base of his shaft and you lick. He lets out a surprised groan, soft and sounding too good. You start to blow him in earnest, careful of your gag reflex as you work. Your hand slips up and down his slick shaft as you suck on the head, his hand comes down to your head, fingers twist in your hair, “Like tasting yourself?” 

A nod as you moan against him, tongue swirls around the tip, and he watches enraptured, his hips buck slightly, and you gag almost immediately. He inhales through his teeth, “Sorry there.”

You brush him off, a gesture that it is fine, as you redouble your efforts. He seems to be enjoying it immensely, he is encouraging you further but soon asks, “Can you handle some more?”

For him, you want to try. You nod, and he guides you, does it slowly and easily, “Breathe through it-”

You do and the pace, his voice, it somehow works, and you’re able to take him deeper, “Pretty birthday girl. Takin’ it so well.” 

All you wanted to do was please him, you continue the work for only a minute more, however because then he tells you, “I want you back up here.”

You jump at the chance. Same as before, you climb up him and straddle him, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see where this is going. “You didn’t have to do that.” He comments, and you have your hands on his biceps, currently sucking a hickey into his neck and teasing your dripping hole with the tip of his dick, “I know. I wanted to.”  

“Could tell you were into it. You always wanna taste yourself like that?” 

“Not always but it is-” You move your hips down, start to slide him inside with a moan, once he is buried inside of you again you finish the thought, “-a favourite.” 

“Dirty girl.” He coos it like a compliment, and it hits you just like one, too. You start to ride, his hands on you help along with upward rocks of his hips. You bite and suck along his throat in between broken moans, the salt of his skin is a tad too addicting, as is the stretch of him inside and the way he brushes all the right spots inside of you at this angle. 

Apparently it still isn’t good enough for him. 

He tugs you closer, presses you so that way your clit is getting friction and ground with every thrust and bounce, your moans increase in volume in pitch along with the sensation. You had no clue this is how your day would shake out, if you did, maybe your shift would have been more bearable. 

His hands are on your back, holding you close, fucking up into you as you are slamming down, and on a particularly good hit you are gasping. For two people fucking for the first time and relative strangers, you’d found a frighteningly good rhythm. Your body is moving on instinct, just chasing what feels good but still, thoughtlessly tinged with doing your best to please him, thankful for the moment that what seems to be getting him off is feeling incredible for you. It isn’t quite enough, though, and he seems to pick up on that. 

“Lean back.” His voice snaps you out of your pleasure induced stupor, and you nod, separating yourself from him, the one point of contact still remaining your ass on his thighs and him stuffed deep inside. He directs you further, his hands help, and you find yourself with one hand on his knee, the other braced on the roof of the truck, feet on the seat on either side of him and with a confident nod you start moving again. 

It’s good, you are able to hit spots inside yourself that are even deeper, using all your leg muscles as well as your hands it becomes more of a full body effort, minute adjustments can be made so too much strain is never on one part of your sweat slick frame. Soon as you are just right in the groove of it, he surprises you, why he wanted the change in position becomes all too clear. His hand is between your bodies and his thumb presses down, swirling over your clit, and it makes your pace falter, “Oh my fucking God-”

“Don’t stop now.” The way he says it makes a shiver run up your spine and again makes you clench down on him. He says it in the dominant tone of voice, but it’s light, that smug fucking half grin on his face, unable to tear his eyes away from your body. You shake your head, choking out, “Wo-won’t stop.” 

“No, course you won’t, you’re so good at listening.” The praise washes over you with another sharp jolt of ecstasy. His hand that wasn’t working your nerves into a frenzy was on your thigh, sliding up, gripping your hip, “This workin’ for you?”

Fuck, was it ever. You nod frantically, focusing on breathing and not stopping riding him, but in short order, your movements were getting increasingly sloppy. It was like he didn’t have to ask, didn’t rush it, just let you work it out and helped carry you along. You were getting dangerously close, the edge creeping up at a blinding pace, everything you’d experienced so far this night was piling up and threatening to make you break apart at the seams. There were no real words, just hurried breathing and pitched moans, head back, nails digging into the fabric of the truck cab’s roof, the sound of skin on skin and his encouragement. 

A soft call of your name, his hips moving up, grinding into you as his hand works and him asking in a mind meltingly hot tone, “I wanna see it, give it to me.”

And something about that, whether it is what he said or how he said it, causes the reaction inside to finally make it happen, like it clicks into place just right, and you go from a weak and barely audible strained whisper of, “I’m almost there!” To holy fucking shit, I’m, “-cumming!” 

Riding as much became not an option, legs almost giving out, but he takes over, grip on your hip is bruising, hip strength impressive, and he drives up into you over and over. Your hand isn’t able to stay on the roof, caught midair, body tense as your climax rockets through your body, you think your hand on his knee might be drawing blood with your nails, but you can’t stop it nor can you care. 

You jerk as it peaks, and he slips out, his fingers don’t stop until you are crying out and pushing him away, still trembling through the aftershocks. Your eyes were closed, you were panting and not even remotely down from his high when you feel the hot splatter on your tits and stomach with your name staining his tongue. Peaking back open, you see him, hand around himself, and he’d cum all over your torso. The pretty pearly white is sliding down, and his own breathing is very laboured. Your hand trails down, still shaky, skating through the mess he left, and then you're bringing those same fingers back up to taste him. 

Your body relaxes against him, you get into a more comfortable position, and after you stop shuddering so much you are telling him, “That was pretty fucking great.”

“Oh, are you all done?” He asked as he looks up at you, hands are resting lazily on your thighs, tracing patterns absentmindedly. “I mean I thought we were but are we not?”

“We don’t gotta be. I’m in no rush.” The thought of that is extremely pleasant. 

“Another drink till you’re ready to go again, old man?” You asked with a smile, and he laughs as he reaches over to where the bottle was left on the floor of his side of the truck. Thankfully it hadn’t been knocked over, “You get that one and only cuz you were so good.” 

“Only one old man joke or one joke overall? Because I was gonna make one hoping that you aren’t passingly along tetanus to me Rusty, but if you’re planning to be a buzzkill-” He shuts you up with a hand on the back of your neck and a kiss that you end up humming into. Yeah, you think this has been a pretty solid birthday. 

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

April 15th

Character: Frank Castle (a little Frank x Matt Murdock if you squint)

My Masterlist

Summary: Based on my calculations, this spring will be the canonical 10 year anniversary of the death of Frank's family. So I wrote an angsty thing about it. This is also a lil Fratt coded.

WC: 2,692

Ten Years

Ten Years

Those two words rung in his ears on repeat over and over again. 

Very few people were in the park this early, still cozy in bed as the city began to wake. But sleep was never something he found easily, especially this time of year. A few early morning joggers passed by, barely noticing the tired looking man as he sat on the bench, staring ahead. It was off-leash time in the park as well and he gave the sweet black lab that sat beside him a few pats before it ran off to rejoin it’s owner.

He stared at the green tarp in front of him, blank expression on his face as the sun rose and painted the park in golden light. The air was crisp and the dew clung to the growing grass on the hill in the distance. It was free of the crimson stains that haunted his sleep, long since washed away with the passage of time. 

Ten Years

Ten Years

The click-clack of heels against the pavement, louder with each step as they approached him, almost tore his gaze away from the covered structure in front of him and the hill in the distance.

Almost.

The source of the percussive walking sat down beside him. She tucked a loose wisp of her blonde hair behind her ear before reaching out, offering him a to-go cup from the bakery down the street. He took it without a word and without turning his gaze to her.

“Brought you coffee.” she said softly

How did she know where to find him? There were a number of places he could be - the cemetery was obvious, or in an alleyway bloodying some poor lowlife, or drinking his sorrows away in whatever apartment he was squatting in for the time being. Was she looking for him long? Or just got lucky and picked the right spot? Was she just stopping by on her way to work or planning on staying beside his pitiful ass all day?

“Thanks, Karen.” he finally replied, quietly

They sat in silence together for a while, staring as the city and the park came more to life. Eventually, she reached out and took his free hand in hers with a squeeze. 

“You have my number, Frank. I know you’ll act like you don’t need anything, but please call or text me if you do. You know I don’t mind.”

He replied with a nod.

“I gotta get to work.” 

He nodded again.

She let her hand fall away from his and stood. With care, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and the tapping of her heels faded away.

Ten Years

Ten Years

Just as the school groups seemed to be arriving in the park for their springtime field trips and the tourists filed in with their cameras pointed towards the blooming trees, two more people arrived.

Two Central Park employees, dressed head to toe in forest green uniforms, began removing the tarp he had spent all morning staring at and opening the carousel for business for the day.

They had repainted it in the years since he had lost his family. Probably after he stained it with Billy’s face. The colorful animals shone with fresh lacquer against the spring sunshine. A line had already begun to form with families eager to ride. The employees finished their rounds then the music started up. The same music the nauseatingly played over and over in his mind.

“You know it’s creepy for an old dude to just sit and stare at a kiddy ride all day.” the voice from beside him said, sitting down on the park bench

“Pft. Don’t wanna hear it from you about being ‘creepy,’ Lieberman,” Frank replied, still watching as the carousel began to spin around and around for the first riders of the day.

“Honestly, wouldn’t have remembered what day it was if Sarah hadn’t reminded me.”

“How is Sarah? And the kids?”

“Good. Zach is officially committed to NYU in the Fall and Leo is already packing for an internship she has in Italy this summer.”

“That’s great David. Really.”

“How are you, Frank?”

Frank replied with only a shrug before taking a sip of the last of the coffee from Karen.

The two men sat side by side for a while, watching the carousel get busier and busier. David slapped two hands on his knees and rose to his feet.

“Welp. I gotta get going. You know where to find us Frank.”

Ten Years

Ten Years

As the day wore on, families came and went. People laid blankets on the hill, enjoyed picnics on the cool April day. He saw so many kids that reminded him of Lisa and Frankie, running around joyfully without a care in the world. So many mothers that passed by he swore he saw a glimmer of Maria for a moment.

He didn’t notice how the sun now beat down, heating the skin under his thick jacket. He didn’t notice hunger growing inside his stomach or the discomfort of how he’d been sitting in the same position for a little too long.

“Keep staring like that Frank and the park is gonna paint you bronze. Make you a permanent statue here.”

“Hey Curt.”

“You’d make a helluva ugly statue, Frank.”

“Yes I would.”

The man sat beside him in the same spot where David and Karen had before, placing a brown paper bag between them. He let out a sigh as he watched his friend continue to be lost in the memories.

“You eat anything yet today?”

Frank shook his head.

“Ain’t hungry.”

“C’mon Frank, you gotta eat something” He said, shaking the bag in the air “I brought sandwiches. From that shitty deli you like.”

“You come to just lecture me –”

“No, I came to be a friend,” Curtis cut him off “And get your sorry ass out of your own damn head.”

“Preciate it Curt, I really do, but I ain’t looking for anything today. Just let me be.”

“Fine. But only if you eat.”

Frank gave a half nod as Curtis opened the bag and handed Frank a sandwich. The men sat in silence and ate for a while, continuing to watch the families come and go.

When the last bite of his sandwich was gone, Curtis stood and gave his friend a clap on the back.

“I’ll see you at group on Thursday?” he asked

“Yeah.”

“Promise you’ll be there and not sulking in some alleyway somewhere bashing some guy’s head in?”

“Ain’t makin’ no guarantees.”

Ten Years

Ten Years

As the sun began to get low, many of the families cleared out, anxious to get home to dinner and an evening of relaxing. The post 9-5 runners now passed by in droves as the air began to cool back down.

Once again the clack clack clack of heeled shoes echoed somewhere in the background of Frank’s thoughts.

“Well Castle, you look like shit.”

“Good to see you too, Madani.”

The woman, with her curly hair blowing gently in the breeze and polished briefcase tucked under her arm, sat on the bench beside him with a sigh.

“Curtis said you were in rough shape, so I stopped by.”

“You talk to Curtis?”

“You’re not the only one who needs someone to talk through all the shit we’ve seen.”

“That’s good – yeah real good” Frank said with a nod, wringing his hands “Say, you ever come back here?”

“To where I got shot in the head? No.” she replied with a snort

After a moment of pause, she cleared her throat. Her eyes remained cast toward the pavement as her feet shuffled against it anxiously. 

“Why do you come back?” she asked with a certain quietness to her voice

“To remember. Them. Him. Why I do what I do. Cause some sick twisted part of me thinks if I just stare at that damn carousel long enough or look at the stupid field hard enough, I’ll just see em’ coming over the hill, smiling at me like they were on that day. That if aliens can invade this damn city or make half of us disappear for five years then maybe somethin’ll happen and it’ll all have just been a bad dream and…”

Frank could feel tears welling in his eyes for the first time that day.

“... and maybe I could have ‘em back.”

Dinah pretended not to notice the way Frank wiped at his eyes as he continued to stare ahead at the carousel. She had avoided gazing at it at all since she’d arrived and had no intention of starting now.

“You know Frank, you ever need a distraction from…” she gestured vaguely “... all this. CIA could still use a guy like you.” 

“Told you Madani, I ain’t coming to work for you. ‘Preciate the offer though.”

“Offer will still be there, if you ever change your mind.”  

She sat for another moment, before gathering her bag and tightening the belt on her crisp trench coat.

“Take care, Frank.”

“You too, Dinah.”

Ten Years

Ten Years

The sun was now long gone as the carousel took it’s last spin of the night. The late hour meant very few children were even still there to ride; most of the families and tourists and runners had gone home.

The two evening shift employees came out from their hut minutes later, sweeping the area of debris and re-covering the carousel in the green tarp. They finished up their duties and also headed out, leaving Frank alone in the yellowy glow of the park lamps.

But still, he sat, not sure what he was waiting for anymore or how much longer he planned to stay. Any other person would have felt alone in the quiet of the night, but his head was still buzzing as loudly as when he arrived this morning. He nearly gasped at the air filling his lungs, so overwhelmed in his grief, he’d forgotten to breathe for a moment.

Only when the clang of metal scraping concrete rang out from just below his feet did he startle out of his trance.

Nervously, he reached down to inspect what had landed just beneath where he sat, flashbacks to enemies coming for him with a pipebomb or grenade running through his brain.

The maroon baton shone under the lamplight as Frank held it up, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.

“Jesus, Red. The hell you tryin’ to do?!”

“Warn you that I’m here so you don’t accidentally shoot me,” a voice replied from the darkness behind him

“Still considerin’ it…” 

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen made his way around the bench, hands held up in surrender.

“Ya know most people just say ‘hello’ or walk real loud if they don’t wanna startle someone.”

Matt shrugged, with a glimmer of mischief to the smirk poking out from under his mask. Frank rolled his eyes.

“Karen mentioned…” the man in crimson changed the subject

“Course she did…”

“I just wanted to come by. Make sure –”

Frank cut him off.

“Make sure I wasn’t spillin’ some criminal’s blood too close to your turf? Came by to try and convert me to your shitty code —”

Matt now took his turn to cut Frank off.

“No. I came by to make sure you were okay.”

“Ain’t exactly peg you as the sentimental type, Red.”

“Well, I mean, I am Catholic…”

Frank let out a scoff and shook his head, leaning back. Matt took the vague gesture as an invitation and sat beside him, removing his horned helmet.

“You know every year —on the day my dad died, I usually go to church.”

He felt the way Frank shifted rigidly beside him; unsure if it was the topic of death, or his personal past, or religion that made the large Marine beside him uncomfortable.

“It’s the one where he took me when I was a kid and where I grew up after he was gone,” he continued “But I do this too. Just sit and think and miss him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And for the longest time, I did it alone. I turned away everyone who came to help me; the other kids, the nuns, eventually Karen and Foggy.”

Frank shook his head at Matt’s story, always annoyed at his ramblings on a normal night but extra irritated on this particular evening. 

“There a point to this?” Frank asked.

“Getting there. I spent so many years isolating myself, dividing myself from the people that cared. I thought I could do it all alone.” 

Frank parted his lips, tempted to make another snarky comment, but he decided against it, letting Matt get out whatever he needed to in those hopes it’d make him go away faster.

“I lied to myself for a long time that the people who got close to me were better off without me and the danger I bring. That I was God’s perfect soldier, meant to suffer alone for my great purpose.” Matt continued

“So what changed?”

“Time. And people who were more stubborn than me and refused to give up on me. They helped me realize I needed them. And that I was only pushing them away to avoid getting hurt myself.”

“So that it, huh? You refusin’ to give up on me?” Frank scoffed

“Something like that.”

Frank shook his head.

“So what do you do now?”

“Hm?”

“The day your dad died, Red. What do you do?”

Matt smiled at Frank’s question and stretched his head upwards, glassy eyes shifting side to side as if trying to see his father in the sky above.

“I still go to the church. But Karen and Foggy come with me. Sometimes my mom walks over from the abbey and brings food.”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up at the statement, more surprised to find out that Matt’s mother was a nun and wondering the story of how that all worked. But he stayed silent and let Matt continue.

“And you know what? I don’t feel angry anymore; at him or the man that killed him or God. And little by little, every year since it gets a little–” He paused, trying to find the right word. “Lighter.”

“Look Red, I appreciate the sermon but I ain’t you.”

“No, but you’re one good day away from being me.”

Frank fully rolled his eyes this time and muttered a “Christ” under his breath, agitated that Matt could use his words from years ago when they first met and flip them around on him.

“You wanna know what else I do?”

“What?”

“After I let myself be with the people who care, I go home to my apartment. Alone. A few years ago Karen found videos of some of his old fights on the internet. My dad was a boxer. I listen to them and I drink.”

“That sounds more my speed, Red.”

“What do you say Frank, wanna go watch some old boxing matches and drink?”

Frank pondered the offer for a moment.

“No. I got some other places I gotta be.”

“Right.” 

Matt removed the helmet from his lap and brought it down on his head, wiggling it a few times to get it in place and stood.

“Take care, Frank.” Matt said with a nod 

“You too, Red.”

Frank watched as Matt disappeared into the shadows of the park. With a sigh, he finally stood, taking one last look at the carousel before heading down the path out of the park. He walked for blocks, still mulling over Matt’s words as he made his way down the empty sidewalks. 

By the time he reached Hell’s Kitchen, he finally felt cold, zipping up his jacket to protect from the chilly night. 

When he finally reached his destination, he hesitated for a moment. Taking in the large red doors in front of him, he wasn’t sure why he had come or what he was hoping to find. But if it helped Red, maybe it could help him.

Frank reached forward and pushed open the door, stepping into the chapel at Clinton Church.

Ten Years

Ten Years

[eshvibing]

ESHVIBES IS BACK!

I'm thrilled to share that I'm back with new Sims 4 custom content after an unexpected break! First, I want to apologize for my long absence—my internship and academic commitments have kept me busy. But now, I'm here again, ready to bring you more content!

Thank you so much for your patience and support. I've been putting in extra effort to catch up, and I have a fantastic lineup of custom content coming your way in November.

NOVEMBER’S EARLY ACCES RELEASE SCHEDULE LADY DEATH (Agatha All Along - November 9/17:00 PM PST) WICCAN/BILLY MAXIMOFF (AGATHA ALL ALONG - NOVEMBER 12) MS. MARVEL BLACK SUIT (CAPTAIN MARVEL - NOVEMBER 15) 

As always, my patrons will have the opportunity to enjoy early access to each new release, with each piece becoming publicly available one month later. I’m genuinely excited to be back, and I’m thrilled for you to discover the content I’ve been working so hard on!

Thank you immensely for your support and for being a part of this journey with me. Your enthusiasm and patience mean the world. Stay tuned for more fantastic creations—I can't wait to share them with you! Sincerely, Eshvibes

[ronanceautistic]

NANCY WHEELER DETAIL OF THE DAY #10

Today is all about the internal battle between a great warrior and a small child. Nancy was forced to let go of her childhood in Season 1, however, brute forcing her way into adulthood just doesn't work. And it's interesting how, in the moments where she's shown to be tough and adult, that's when the show compares her to a child.

This is literally an entire character essay. Like, it's longer than a few of my fics. But there's pictures!

In Season 1 Episode 8, Hopper, while interrogated by the Lab, says "you made it look like that little girl just ran away". He's referring to Barb, who is actually older than Nancy, implying he'd see Nancy as a little girl, too. It's a big contrast to how she's usually portrayed during season 1, from Mike's perspective she's the older bratty annoying sister, and from Nancy's she's maturing into a young woman. But from an actual adult's point of view, she's a little girl.

Meanwhile, what's Nancy doing while Hopper calls her this? She's saving his ass. She tells Jonathan that Hopper and Joyce will die in the Upside Down if they don't do something, and steal the weapons back from Hopper's office.

In Season 2 Episode 9, she saves Joyce (the adult) by stabbing Will (the child) with a fire poker

In Season 3 it's very clear that she's on the path to becoming an adult, with an internship at the local paper, and a huge desire to write a story for them, despite the fact she's only a teenage intern. When it all blows up in her face, she tries to argue her case to her boss. But after it doesn't work out, and she gets fired, and then fights with Jonathan, she goes to her mom for comfort.

During the conversation, Nancy says she's "Just a kid who has no idea what she's doing"

It's funny, how in the season where she's arguably trying the hardest to be an adult, she is more often than not the child of the situation. In Season 3 Episode 6, when confronted by the Flesh Monster, she's basically helpless to it. It's a position we rarely see Nancy in, and in the end, it's Eleven (the child) who saves her. This happens again, during the cabin battle. While Nancy saves Jonathan, it's Eleven who saves Nancy.

There's also blatant comparisons to herself and Holly in this season. When Karen takes Holly to the pool, she plays Marco Polo with her friends, a game Nancy "plays" with Bruce right before she kills him.

Not only that but herself and Holly are the only people to notice the there was something in the woods, without someone else pointing it out to them. Holly, in both of these cases, is first. She plays Marco Polo before Nancy, she notices the trees before Nancy. Nancy is unintentionally copying her.

This one is subtle and probably unintentional, but when Billy comes at her with a speeding car, she leans towards the kids, not Jonathan.

In Season 4 we immediately start the season with Nancy ruling over the high school newspaper with an iron fist. She's finally got a leadership position, and it's clear she takes it very seriously. That being said, when given the choice between working or playing with a puppy, she chooses the puppy.

As well as that, when she talks to Wayne, she tells him "the paper I write for is small", intentionally leaving out the fact that it's a high school paper. When Wayne begins to talk about Victor Creel, he says "I guess you're too young [to remember]". And when Fred's missing and she goes to the cop, he says "I told you kids to stay home."

Just like with Hopper, it's another case of Nancy play-acting as the adult, while the actual adult in the situation still sees her as a child.

In Episode 4, when Steve complains about babysitting, Nancy says "they're not babies anymore". While it is true in the sense that high schoolers don't need babysitting, it is interesting that Nancy specifically calls him out for that. The kids are almost the same age Nancy was at the start of all of this, and in her mind she's 'growing them up' in the same way she grew herself up at that age. However, at the end of the season, she thanks Jonathan for looking after Mike, showing that deep down, she doesn't actually believe they're completely independent and not in need of babysitting.

In Episode 4 Nancy very carefully crafts her persona for going to Pennhurst, she ages herself up to be a college student, creates a resume for herself, and dresses herself in a way she deems 'academic'. I like Robin's line where she sees the outfits as "Easter Brunch" outfits, because it does remind me of the outfits little kids are made to wear on Easter, which clearly wasn't Nancy's intention.

Despite given herself a completely new identity, an older and more mature one, in her eyes. It's the name that actually reveals her true self. She picks the name Ruth as a reference to a children's book, Swallows and Amazons. In the book, the character - who is usually called Nancy - reveals her name used to be Ruth. She changed it, as she wanted to be a pirate, and pirates are ruthless.

In Nancy's case she does the opposite, instead of being 'ruthless', she's Ruth. Despite hamming up her achievements, and her age, her own name is telling us she's still a child, without the tough exterior she displays to the world.

There's more comparisons between herself and Holly in this season, too. Protecting Holly from the world, by telling Dustin to stop talking about Freddy Kruger. And when in the Upside Down, she uses Holly's Lite Brite to communicate with Dustin. It's interesting how the past two seasons have included multiple parallels between her and her younger sister when you consider Holly's role in the upcoming season. It feels like they might be slowly ramping up to something.

When Nancy is, once again, helpless to Vecna, it's the youngest of the group, Erica, who urges everyone to hurry up and save her.

Not only that, but as Nancy leads the charge into the Creel House for the final battle, it's technically Erica who's pulling the strings, instructing her on when to go. Just like Eleven in Season 3, it's another case of a child protecting Nancy.

When the gate opens, we see Karen running to protect Holly, while Nancy is left clinging to a banister on her own. It shows why she's had to grow up against her will, no one else is really there to protect her when things get rough.

Finally, when looking at her childhood toy, Mr. Rabbit, she decides to give it away. The sad look on her face is clear, and reminds me of watching Henry kill the rabbit in her vision.

There is a bonus instance, although it's not technically canon. In the Stranger Things comic 'The Other Side', when Nancy is in the Upside Down in Season 1, Will throws a rock near the Demogorgon stalking her, luring it away from Nancy, and sacrificing his own opportunity to crawl back through the gate and saving Nancy instead. Another case of a child saving her when she can't save herself. In fact, almost every single time Nancy has been unable to fight for herself, it's been a child who has saved her.

I can't find an image of the page itself where he does this, but this is the cover of the issue. That's Nancy's flashlight.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk wow.

[stranger-rants]

Re: Steve Harrington’s Canon Breeding Kink + Billy protecting Nancy in his own way, I guess!

Steve and Billy start hooking up out of convenience. Steve’s “not gay,” apparently, he’s just horny and he’s hit a dry spell with women because he’s still hung up on Nancy, or rather he’s still hung up on his dream of the perfect life with Nancy. Making six figures. Buying a nice McMansion. Raising children together behind a white picket fence. A dream that won’t become reality.

Nancy has other plans. Mainly, moving up in the world and out of Hawkins. Steve’s dream is her nightmare, and well Billy? He doesn’t dream at all. So when Steve has him face down in the mattress, threading his fingers through his curls, imagining soft lines where there’s hard muscles, murmuring in a haze, wanna knock you up… he just goes along with it.

Weird, but a fuck is a fuck and a fuck is real. Not whatever shit this is.

Steve says goodbye to Nancy at the airport. Billy is mostly there for moral support or whatever. He doesn’t care. She got an amazing internship at the paper she always wanted to work for. For a brief moment she panics after seeing the kicked puppy look on Steve’s face. He’s happy for her. Really. But the man can’t help but show just how crushed he is.

Nancy steps outside for a moment to shake out her nerves and take a breath. Outside, where Billy is leaning up against a pillar smoking.

“Shit. Am I doing the right thing?”

Billy doesn’t dream much but he knows, intimately, that Steve does and what exactly Steve dreams of. He stares at Nancy behind his sunglasses. Blows out smoke. Shrugs. Tosses his cigarette on the ground, and stomps on it. “You’re leaving Hawkins. Of course you’re doing the right thing.’’

Nancy doesn’t know how to take that. If Billy wants her gone or… it’s not like she knows he’s hooking up with her ex. It doesn’t matter. It’s not about that anyway. It’s enough motivation to get her on her way. That night Steve fucks Billy hard, collapsing on top of him. He curls around Billy, silently sobbing into his neck.

They don’t do this after. Cuddling, or whatever this is. Steve’s hand strokes his belly, and Billy freezes. He understands Nancy’s hesitation. It’s very easy to want to give Steve what he wants but he too would resent him if he were stuck in Hawkins fucking Indiana instead of pursuing his dreams. But he doesn’t dream and none of it matters because he’s just a fuck and Steve’s hand on his belly means nothing.

It can’t mean anything. It won’t. So, it doesn’t matter.

And if he falls asleep in Steve’s arms with images of a McMansion with a picket fence and children running around, it doesn’t mean anything at all because he doesn’t dream.

[billysfatass]

Harringrove Snuggle Session

Billy was, to say the least, having a rough day. His late-night shifts at the hospital had finally started to take a toll and honestly, He missed his boyfriend, Steve. The two had graduated Hawkins High School and immediately moved to California, wanting to get away from abusive parents and bad memories. Steve took up a babysitting job, which always had him beaming when Billy got home from his internship at the hospital.

Billy sighed as he opened the front door to their small one-bedroom apartment. They'd upgrade later, when Billy started getting more income. Billy could hear Steve in the kitchen finishing dishes from lunch he presumed. Billy smiled when he saw the other man, standing Infront of the sink in a pair of sweats and a hoodie, his hair damp from a shower Billy guessed. Steve hummed when Billy hugged him from behind, nuzzling into the hair at Steve's nape.

"Hey there," Steve giggled, tilting his head back and laughing shutting off the water.

Billy hugged him tighter, groaning low.

"Rough day?" Steve asked gently, turning in Billy's arms to look him in the face.

Billy stepped back and nodded, a tired look in his ocean blue eyes.

Steve hummed, placing one hand on Billy's bicep and one hand on his cheek, thumb rubbing up and down. "Wanna talk about it?"

Billy inhaled, "Honestly? No. I just wanna go to bed."

Steve smiled, tilting his head. "We can do that. If you want to head up and get ready, I'll finish here."

Billy nodded, leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to Steves's lips, causing the shorter male to sigh. Billy stepped away and headed down the hall into their small room. Shedding his clothes until he's only in his boxers, he crawled in bed, laying on his back. The covers stopped at his waist. He rested with one hand on his stomach and one above his head. After a few moments, the bed dipped next to him. Billy looked over, smiling when Steve snuggled into him, intertwining their hands on Billy's stomach.

Billy sighed contently, looking up at the ceiling and closing his eyes.

Steve's head turned, and a soft kiss was pressed to Billy's tummy.

Billy sometimes had a rough day. But the end of his day was always perfect.