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baby-yongbok · 1 day

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𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘬 + 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦

Hwang Hyunjin 𝗑 Afab!Reader

♡ Genre - Friends to Lovers

♡ CW - Explicit Sexual Content, Unprotected Sex, Nightmares, Alcohol usage by reader, Hyunjin calls reader rose as a nickname, One use of 'y/n'.

♡ Summary - Your avoidant tendencies have allowed the burn of pink and white to keep you Hyunjin at a safe distance until it all comes crashing down. Can the fire that kept you apart also be what brings you together?

♡ Word Count - 9.2k

♡ A/N - I went from not being sure if I liked this fic to being in love with it. I think that it's a very sweet fic and I loved writing it. I worked so hard on it and I'm so proud of it. The goal was for it to be 4k words.. then I almost posted it at 8k but now... yeah. I hope that you love this as much as I do!

♡ Playlist - Pink + White - Frank Ocean, Rainy Days - V, For Us - V, Beautiful Things - Benson Boone, Trajectories - Bruno Major

✧ Masterlist ✧

When you were six years old you punched a boy in the face on the playground. That was the first time that you ever felt the burn of genuine fear.

Your mom along with the many others came swirling around them. When your mother asked you what happened you cried. You clung to her running over to you and the crying brunette boy on the playground with a mix of emotions and explained the best you could through your tears that you didn’t like that he was chasing you, when you agreed to play tag you thought that you’d be the chaser not the one being chased.

That was the day that you learned two things about yourself, you have a habit of acting impulsively when you’re scared and you don’t like being chased. It's suffocating.

As you got older your friends described you as the avoidant type, especially in relationships. You developed a reputation for being an ice queen in your Sophomore year of university which led to you being one of the most sought after girls on campus.

You’ve lost friends because of this. Their boyfriends saw getting close to them as a gateway to meeting you. Many guys took dating you as a challenge with an end prize of overnight popularity. Unfortunately, some of your closest relationships have been destroyed because of it. You learned not to be sad about it, you’ve come to terms with it, this is just the way that it goes. Of course your other friends were all important to you but you always told yourself that you’re alright with losing them as long as you have your best friend by your side.

“More roses? Are you in love or something?” You weaved through the cluttered art studio that Hyunjin has claimed as his own. It’s on the dead side of campus on the second floor of a building that was abandoned last year. Your best friend refused to let the studio go when it was shut down, he says that it houses some of his fondest memories.

“Always in love, never loved back.” He quips, eyes still trained on the canvas. “You’re early.”

You jump up onto one of the few clear desks in the room, right behind his easel. “Chemistry ended early.” Hyunjin stands straight, eyeing his canvas for a second before looking over at you. He knows that you’re skipping class. Your last hook-up is in that class and you're trying to avoid his attempt at getting you in his bed again. If you’re being honest, the decision to sleep with him was impulsive. You blame the beer, all eight of them.

“I thought that we could go to the exhibition early.” He starts another brush stroke and silence swallows you both. “I’m excited about it and if I’m being honest I just wanna spend time with you. I’ve barely seen you for the past three days.”

Hyunjin’s steady hand wavers and he thanks his lucky stars that you didn’t see it. “Aw she misses me. She loves me so much.” The sound of your feet hitting the ground as you jump off of the desk echoes through the dusty room of stacked chairs and forgotten storage items.

Hyunjin stands and dips the paint brush covered in bright pink in the cup of water next to him. “You could’ve come to my place ya know.” You grab your stuff, swinging your bag onto your shoulder.

“Your brother is there, you know how he gets.” You scrunch your face at the thought of Hyunjin’s step brother, Jeongin. The two of you get along perfectly, almost as well as you and Hyunjin until Jeongin starts flirting. He confessed to you on New Years and you’ve been avoiding him ever since. He’s too sweet for you, you’d hate to hurt him. “I’m gonna go change, I’ll meet you by your car.”

“You brought a costume change for an art exhibit?” He asks as he starts cleaning his space.

“Of course, I need to look like art too.” You smile at him but he doesn’t smile back, he rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the mess of paints and rags on the desk in front of him. He waits until he hears the door open and close behind you to finally let the corners of his mouth turn up. He chuckles to himself quietly while his mind comes up with responses that he’d never dare to utter out loud.

“This one looks like you, rose.” The year old nickname slips off of Hyunjin’s tongue like silk. You’ve never fully understood how the name stuck. You figured that it’s because roses are his favorite flower and he thought it was cute. You’ve never asked for its origin but you don’t mind the name. It’s sweet.

You turn to view the series of pink, white and green dots making up a bouquet of roses on the framed canvas in front of Hyunjin. He studies it with smiling eyes though the neutral look on his face could fool those who haven’t experienced him like you have.

“It’s pretty.” You mumble as you lean your head on his shoulder. You wrap your arm around his and the sleeve of the brown oversized flannel shirt that you picked out a year ago rides up his forearm a bit, he blames the chills running up his spine on the breeze against the newly exposed skin.

“I knew I’d see you here.” The voice of a woman next to Hyunjin startles you a bit. You stand straight and watch as Hyunjin smiles towards her. He’s cursing her in his head for interrupting the moment between the two of you but he learned a long time ago to just live in the moment when it comes to you.

“Of course, I had to see this exhibition.” He shakes her hand and you chalk it up to her being someone important though she doesn’t look much older than either of you. “You put it together beautifully.”

Ah, she owns the gallery. “Oh, please, it’s nothing. I just hope that you’re enjoying it. I actually thought about you when I put this piece up.” She motions towards the art in front of the two of you. The piece that Hyunjin says resembles you. “It looks like something you’d design. I’m still desperate to organize a local exhibition for you, ya know.”

Hyunjin laughs but it's stiff and polite. He’s being shy. He’s a very cautious person but he reaches a whole new level when it comes to his art. “I’m not quite on that level yet.”

“I disagree but I won’t bother you about it until you graduate. This is your final semester, right?” You can see her eyes smiling just like Hyunjin’s were a second ago as she checks him out. She’s shameless in her actions, the glint in her eyes is far from professional.

“Yes, just three months to go.” She nods, dragging her gaze up from his lips with a smile.

“Call me when you graduate, I’d love to have you working with us.” She pulls a business card out of her pocket and flashes one last smile before waving a reluctant goodbye towards your best friend.

Silence settles between the two of you for just a couple of seconds before you break it. “She wants to fuck you so badly that she didn’t even look at me.” Hyunjin scoffs at your whispered words as he slips the card into his pocket. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t notice. How old is she anyway? She looks a bit young to be in charge of this place.”

“Her father owns it.” He mumbles as he grabs your wrist and leads you over to the next piece of art.

“Oh, of course. She probably thought I was your girlfriend, ya know. She’s rude as hell for not even asking or looking at me. I know she saw me here, she’s clearly -” You’re pulled into Hyunjin’s side before you can finish your sentence. The sudden action cuts you off with a heavy thump of your heart and that painfully familiar burn rising in your chest.

“Look at this one.” Your eyes are on him but his are on the art. “This one looks like you too.” You pull your gaze away from him to view the piece. The thumping in your chest doubles once your gaze meets your own. It’s a mirror with pink and white abstract designs floating around and over the glass. The paint is so messy yet strategic. It leaves just enough room for your reflection.

“It’s messy yet elegant, don’t you think? You can’t help but to stare..” He’s visibly smiling now. The corners of his mouth turn up as he studies the art in front of him. As he studies you. “This one might be my favorite. It’ll be hard to beat it.”

“I don’t like it.” You mutter quickly, pulling away from Hyunjin and turning towards the next piece. You try your best to steady your breathing. You will your heart to calm down so that you can take a complete breath but it’s betraying you. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

You’re walking away before Hyunjin can reply. He watches you with that smile in his eyes as you disappear around the corner. He knew that what he pulled would be a risk but it was one that he was willing to take. He doesn’t call you beautiful nearly as much as he should or as much as he really wants to.

In the bathroom you’re slumped against the door of a stall while you try to catch your breath. You don’t like how Hyunjin’s words made that white hot burn in your chest kick up. You don’t like the way that his eyes being on you made you feel like you were the only two in the entire gallery. It’s suffocating.

When you step out of the stall your fingers are busy on your phone screen. You find your friend Isa’s number quickly and take a sigh of relief when she answers on the third ring. You bypass reciprocating her kind greeting and get right to the point.

“Get-together at yours tomorrow?”

You’re standing in the middle of the Pink and White art exhibition. Other viewers jumble together along the walls of the gallery and crowd the pieces. You can’t see anything but their blurred faces decorating the white walls. There’s a slow yet heavy beating in your ears but you’re comfortable. You’re alone in the middle of it all, watching everyone from a pleasant distance as you turn to study them all as if they’re the art on the walls.

The beating in your ears skips as you turn and come face to face with Hyunjin. He’s standing in front of you wearing that brown hat that you love and the oversized flannel that he bought just to share with you.

Suddenly the others in the room are quiet. All eyes are on you but Hyunjin’s gaze is the most piercing. His brown eyes are smiling at you with a softness that makes the flame in your chest burn brighter.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You look around at everyone else but they’ve vanished along with the art on the walls. The beating in your ears picks up, it’s deafening but Hyunjin’s voice can be heard loud and clear over the noise.

“I like staring at you.” He takes a step towards you but you take two back. He frowns and steps forward again. You repeat the process until your back is against the wall. “Why do you do that?”

“I’m not doing anything.” You swallow hard as you try to push him away but he’s stronger than you. As strong as stone caging you against the stark white wall. “I can’t breathe.” You’re pushing as hard as you can but it’s no use. You’re stuck under him.

“Why do you do this?” He’s still staring down at you, a burning gaze setting your skin ablaze. “Why do you keep running?” The beating in your ears drowns out all sensible thoughts. You can feel your veins swelling with fear and the blinding white burning in your chest puffs up with the crushing pressure of having him so close. Too close.

“Back up.” You inhale the thick air, feeling dizzy. “Move.”

“Stop running.” You try to inhale but it gets stuck in your throat. You want to scream. You need to escape. You need to get out of here.

You lift your heavy arm the best you can and pull back enough to punch Hyunjin. You aim for his face but your fist goes through him just as your lungs start to burn, you take one last look at him before the wall behind you gives out and you’re falling backwards. Hyunjin watches you, his eyes are void of that sparkling smile and guilt consumes you right before you hit the ground.

You jump up with a gasp as your eyes frantically search the room around you. Your chest rises and falls heavily and sweat beads at your hairline.

It was a dream.

Friday is a late day for you with your last class ending at nine in the evening. Hyunjin always waits for you in the abandoned art studio, he waits for two hours just to walk you to your dorm across campus. It’s become a routine for the two of you but you told him not to wait up tonight. He was reluctant at first, he insisted on waiting for you but you were adamant about breaking your routine.

He agreed eventually but you could see the dejection in his eyes as he hugged you goodbye before your last class. He watched you walk away just like he always did but this time his heart was heavy in his chest. Did he do something wrong?

That question haunted him throughout the day. It was loud in his head as he collected his stuff and made his way to the abandoned studio. It echoed in his ears as he tried to finish the painting of his vibrant rose that he’s added notes of dusty pale pink to. But it was the loudest when Jeongin called him to ask if he was going to the get-together at Minho’s place tonight.

He knows that you and Minho’s girlfriend Isa are close so you have to know about this, hell, you might’ve even helped plan it and you kept it from him. You’re avoiding him.

You skipped your class to head to Minho and Isa’s place. They share a small apartment right off of campus that you often use as an escape. Isa is one of the few friends that you still have from sophomore year since her boyfriend has never once tried to get in your pants.

You sat on Isa’s bed clutching a bottle of soju that is not at all meant for one person while you laid your head in her lap. You loved being with her because there was never any pressure to fill the silence. She understands you in a way that other people just don’t. Not even Hyunjin.

“So, he called you pretty?” You’ve been telling her everything from what happened at the art gallery to the nightmare you had last night. “And now you’re avoiding him?”

“I’m not avoiding him.” You take a swig from the glass bottle and gulp hard to rush the alcohol into your system. “I’m just being careful.”

“You’re being careful by avoiding your best friend… because he called you pretty and you had a nightmare about it?” You sit up with a groan, lifting the bottle to your mouth again with a sigh. She’s not getting it.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me. You didn’t feel the way he pulled me into him, his arm wrapped around my waist and he just stared at me with that smile in his eyes. You know the one that makes his eyes shine when he sees something pretty? He was looking at me like that and he told me that I looked elegant. Messy but elegant and that he couldn’t help but to stare. There was a softness in his voice, I swear, and he just wouldn’t take his eyes off of me. It’s like he was looking into me instead of at me it was… it was..”

“Sweet?” You tap the bottle in your hands with your nails.

“Suffocating. It was too much. It made my heart skip and it made me feel hot.”

“That usually means that you like him, ya know.” She takes the bottle from you, drinking from it a bit herself. “ You know that he’s a romantic and this isn’t the first time you’ve felt like this with him.” She hands the cold glass back to you while you think back to the other times that you’ve felt this. The latest being your birthday three months ago when Hyunjin whisked you away to the next city for a mini getaway.

You stayed in the same hotel room and on the night of your birthday you had a bit too much to drink. He carried you up to your room since you were too out of it to walk but you weren’t too far gone to forget the way that he handled you with such gentle care.

He brushed your hair out of your face when he laid you on your bed and took your make-up off with such a tender touch that it made you want to kiss him. You almost kissed him.

“I don’t like him like that.” You shrug and she sighs.

“Whatever you say, ice queen.” That damned nickname makes you cringe but Minho is bursting through the door before you can rebuttal.

“Jisung and Bin just got here, come on.” You stare at him with confused eyes and he crosses his arms as he stares back at you. “Well? Get up, you wanted to do this.”

“Do what?” You look over at Isa who’s already getting up from the bed.

“Did you not call her asking for a get-together? People are getting here so come on. I’m not hosting this by myself.” Your heart drops and you stare over at Isa who looks back at you with her own look of confusion until it all sinks in.

“You meant for it to be just us, didn’t you?”

Hyunjin is a cautious person, anyone who knows him knows that about him. He doesn’t like when things go wrong because of him. It eats him alive until he can fix it and if he can’t he lets the anxiety consume him until a part of him dies with the memory of it all.

His cautious nature is what prompted him to drive home after he got that call from Jeongin. It brought him right to his bedroom where he dropped his bag by the foot of his bed and laid back against the mattress with a death stare set on the dull ceiling. It stared back at him, reflecting his thoughts back to him for him to analyze.

His brother left for the get-together as soon as he walked through the door and Hyunjin was tempted to follow him down to Seungmin’s car.

He was tempted to drop his bag and turn on his heels and come straight to you but he knew better. He knew you better than you knew yourself. If he shows up at that get-together you’ll avoid him like the plague. You’ll feel trapped by his presence and any hope that he has of fixing this situation will die right in front of his eyes.

His cautious nature is what’s keeping him on his bed. It’s what’s grounding him to this spot and sating the burning desire to chase you. The problem is that the fire in his chest is bigger than he can handle. He’s seen how you treat the men you want to avoid on campus, he’s seen you take the long way home just to avoid a conversation and the thought of you doing that to him makes him wilt. He can’t let that happen.

His feet are carrying him across his room before he can even fully process it. He opens his closet and pulls out the brown flannel along with his brown beanie. They’ve become comfort items for the both of you at this point, especially the flannel. It feels like a thread connecting you to him and him to you. He needs to save that connection.

He sloppily throws on the items while he checks the clock. He’s nearly two hours late but there’s still time.

Hyunjin has never gotten a speeding ticket but he was nearly positive that he’d get one tonight. He made it to Minho’s place in record time but he’s panting when he knocks on the door like he’s ran there. His heart is hammering when Isa answers the door and the look on her face when she takes him in only makes his heart beat faster.

She forces a smile, inviting him in and telling him where everything is but he already knows all of that and she knows that he does. “She doesn’t want to see me does she?” Isa sighs, giving him a look that answers each and every one of his questions all at once.

“Thanks for letting me in.” He walks past her with a nervous huff, making his way into the small party and searching for you immediately. He finds Changbin and Chan before he can find you and the two quickly drag him into a conversation about gods know what while wedging a glass bottle of mystery liquid into his fist.

Hyunjin’s eyes wander in an attempt to find you as he ignores his friends' conversation. Luckily it didn’t take long for the sound of your loud laughter to echo through the room. His eyes were on you in an instant once he heard it. You’re right in front of him sitting in the truth or dare circle with a can of something strong in your hand. You’re always the loudest in the room but right now you seem to be the drunkest too, you shouldn’t be playing that game you’ll do something reckless.

He wants to go over and pull you up, he wants to tell you that you’re going home and that you need to sober up. He wants to get you to talk to him but he ignores everything he wants and watches you instead. He stays cautious and keeps his distance.

“Y/n, truth or dare.” One of your few girl friends, Harvey asks from across the circle. You answer ‘dare’ with a wide smile, it’s no surprise, you always pick that. The raven haired girl looks over to Mingi for assistance since she’s known for picking terrible dares. After a couple seconds of deliberation the blonde perks up with an idea.

“I dare you to kiss whoever this bottle lands on.” Mingi dares with a nonchalant smile and you shrug, the alcohol in your system is surely boosting your confidence but it’s not like you’ll remember any of this tomorrow so who cares, right?

He spins the bottle in the middle of the circle and everyone watches with quiet anticipation as it lands on the copper haired boy sitting three people away from you. It’s Jeongin.

He stops in the middle of sipping from his cup and flashes you a small innocent smile but what you return to him is nothing less than a look of raw seduction. You’re on your feet in an instant, making your way over to him with low and hazy eyes. You straddle him swiftly, getting comfortable in his lap like you’ve done this a hundred times.

“You sure about this, noona?” His hands rest on your thighs, he brushes his thumbs over the bareskin and you can feel a shiver down your spine. It almost reminds you of how Hyunjin touched you on your birthday.

“Do you not wanna kiss me?” You tease him with a slight slur to your voice. You know he wants to kiss you, everyone does except for Hyunjin, right?

Just as that thought passes your eyes flicker up and meet those of the very man on your mind. He’s watching you with an angry gaze as he fists the neck of the glass bottle in his hand. Your mouth goes dry as you take him in, when did he get here? You feel stuck staring at him, everything around you is suddenly muted and the people around you disappear. It’s only you and Hyunjin.

Both of your hearts are pounding in your chest.

Both of you feel like you can’t breathe.

Both of you are about to do something that you shouldn’t.

“Kiss her already!” Ryujin instigates from across the circle and you snap out of your haze and blink down at Jeongin. You both share a smile, one more genuine than the other, before he’s leaning into you. His lips just barely brush against yours before you’re interrupted.

A firm grip on your shoulder startles you and the man under you. You both look up to meet the eyes of the angry Hyunjin above you.“Get up.” He practically growls with a slight tug on your arm. You stare up at him with glassy eyes though you are feeling a bit more sober now. “Get. Up.”

You’re being pulled up before you can process it. Your feet fight to keep up with him as you stumble towards the bedroom he’s leading you to. You can feel all eyes on you, you can feel the room getting smaller once he locks the bedroom door behind the two of you and pulls his flannel off to drape over your shoulders, something that he does to comfort you.

“What the fuck?” That’s all you can manage to get out of your mouth as you stare over at him. He stares back with his arms crossed and his chest rising and falling with what you perceive as anger but he would describe as anxiety. Pure fear.

“Do you understand what you were about to do?” Hyunjin tries to be mindful of his tone. He tries to limit the waver of his words and calm the frantic thoughts in his head. He’s trying. “Why would you kiss him?”

“I didn’t.” The alcohol in your system takes over again and you thank the ridiculous amount of soju you’ve consumed for coming to the rescue. You tug on the flannel resting over your shoulders, pretending that its warmth would protect you from the buzzing in your head and inevitable burning in your chest.

“You would’ve if I didn’t stop you. What happened to you not being into Jeongin? What happened to you not wanting to hurt him?”

You groan, stomping your foot like a child being scolded by their guardian. Like the little girl who punched the brunette boy in the face for chasing her. “Why don’t you mind your business?”

Hyunjin scoffs, his anxiety grows in his chest and he takes a step back. “You are my business.”

It’s silent for one, two, three heartbeats before the dizzying emotions burning in your chest fill in the silence for you. “Well maybe I shouldn’t be. You’re way too attached to me.”

Hyunjin feels frozen even though he’s stepping back from you. He’s creating more space between the two of you just like you seem to be doing. What do you mean by that? You’re rambling on before he can ask. “You do all of these things that make me feel like I can’t breathe. You call me pretty and you touch me softly and you hold me close and… and you just make me feel hot. You suffocate me.”

Hyunjin whispers through the bubbles forming in his throat. He’s gentle with the way he speaks, he is a cautious person after all, especially when it comes to his art. “Is this about what I said at the gallery?”

His question goes in one ear and right out the other. Your brain formulates words quicker than you can process them, creating a violent episode of word vomit that threatens to spill over your lips and onto the carpet but you swallow hard and condense it all into one simple yet seering sentence. “You keep making my heart race, it’s not fair. You need to go, just go.”

Hyunjin’s blood runs cold and his temples throb like you’ve hit him. Like you’ve punched him in the face. Anxiety bubbles in his veins and swells behind his eyes. It’s his turn to ramble, the word vomit seems to be contagious.

“I’m not leaving.” His gaze is frantic, cautious, scared. “I am too attached, you’re right. I have been for a while. I’ve loved you for a while and I tried to hide it but I shouldn’t have to. I shouldn’t be scared that I’ll lose my best friend if I tell her that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“No, you are not confessing to me right now. Don’t you dare do that.” You pace to the left then the right in a hurried attempt to escape his words before they could reach you. He can’t be doing this right now. You needed to get out of here.

“I am. I am confessing to you. I need you to hear me say that I love you because I do and it scares me just as much as it scares you but you are the reason that it’s scaring me. Losing you is the reason that I’m afraid and I need you to tell me that that isn’t going to happen.” His voice is shaky just like your hands. He watches you like a dog being dropped off at the pound as you physically try to escape him. He knew this would happen, this is what he was afraid of.

“Stop. Just stop it, Hyunjin. You’re doing it again, I can’t breathe when you’re this close to me.” He stares over at you from the other side of the room and you stare back at him. This doesn’t make any sense. He isn’t next to you but you still can’t breathe. It doesn’t make any sense. “I have to go - I have - just… just leave me alone.” You turn towards the bedroom door but he speaks up before you can make your escape.

“I’m not going to chase you.” Hyunjin is unmoving. His feet are still planted to the floor like a statue as he slips his fists into his pocket. “I don’t want to push you further away but don’t you dare go home and convince yourself that I don’t care just because I let you go.”

You listen to him over your hammering heart with your back turned to him and your unsteady gaze trained on the worn door knob. “I’m letting you go with the hope that you’ll come back. You know where to find me.”

Your feet threaten to betray you, they try to turn you around and drive you over to him but your heart is screaming. That white flame is burning in your chest and begging you to run. Run as fast as you can and find safety, but your safety is standing behind you. It’s watching you with teary eyes that are desperate to meet yours.

A tear slips down your cheek as you grab the doorknob and pull it with a quick twist. You follow your heart and rush out of the room with tears decorating your face and your hand over your mouth. You let the burning win again.

You rush past everyone, Isa tries to stop you and Minho even catches you for a minute but you fight him off of you and make your way to the front door. You don’t get too far before the last layer of your resolve snaps, You turn onto the next dark block and sink to the ground. Sobs rip through you as Hyunjin’s words hang in your head. He loves you. He wants you but you left him. You left everything you’ve ever wanted behind you.

A heavier sob escapes you as the truth of it all comes crashing down. You love him too, don’t you? You’ve loved him for so long. Since your birthday and beyond that but you’ve been avoiding it. You’ve avoided your feelings just like you have everything else. You’ve punched yourself in the face, you’ve chased yourself into a corner and now you might just lose everything you have left. You might lose your best friend.

The storms over the next two days swirl the skies into mysterious clouds of pink and white as rain soaks the grass the same way that you’ve soaked your pillow for hours. You’ve opted to stay in, avoiding anything or anyone that could remind you of Friday’s catastrophe.

You’ve debated texting Jeongin and apologizing for what you remember of the situation. You almost called Isa to spill the fears bubbling in your lungs to her so that she could help you sort through them but she can’t. This is up to you. You need to make a choice. Will you run away from the fire or towards it?

On the other side of campus Hyunjin sits in the abandoned studio with paint stained hands and dried tears on his cheeks. He’s left his previous painting incomplete. The bright blushing rose sits across the room with the others just like it while he touches his brush to the canvas and smears a smoky mauve to the pristine white flesh. His lines are messy and uncalculated. Far from cautious.

For a moment he considers that he was only ever careful because of you. Your lack of control over your emotions inspired him to fill in the blanks for you. Now there’s no need for caution without you.

The rain carried into Monday along with the emptiness in your chest. You’ve typed and deleted paragraphs to Hyunjin who has done the same as he sat on the studio floor.

He stayed in the dusty room until midnight each day that he was without you and you stayed up well past then. He poured himself into painting and you poured yourself onto the carpet of your dorm room. You made lists and mapped your emotions until it all started to make a bit more sense. Until the love that burned alongside your hot white fear was glowing pink in the mirror.

You skipped your classes on Monday, your feet drove you over to the dead side of campus through the violent rain. You stood in the hallway outside of Hyunjin’s studio. The worn copper doorknob stared back at you like it knew what you were here to do. Like it was daring you to go inside. You suck in a breath as you grab the metal, you’ve never been one to back down from a dare.

The studio is empty when you walk inside. The fading warm light of the lamps that you and Hyunjin bought and snuck in illuminate the space the best that they can given the dull pink skies. Your eyes catch on the new piece sitting up on his easel. It’s dark and runny, it’s raw and it feels like it’s calling your name.

“Hi.” Hyunjin’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. His voice is small and surprised as he stares over at your frame clad in that famous brown flannel and sweatpants.

“Hi.” You whisper back. He looks like a mess. Brown hat, pulled too far over his head and his hair spilling from every exit it can find. “More roses?”

He stares passed you and over at the wilting petals on the canvas with a sad smile. “It’s like I’m in love or something.”

Your guilt tinged heart beats a bit faster when he steps further into the room and closes the door behind him. He drops his bag next to the door and stares at the dinghy tile with his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. For everything, for the party and everything with your brother and for everything that I said.”

The word vomit is back. It spilled over your lips before you could attempt to swallow it back but you’re almost thankful for it. You have no clue how you’d get your words out otherwise. “You just made me feel… I just felt..” You kick at the cracked tile as if it holds the answers you’re looking for but Hyunjin beats you to it.

“Suffocated.” His eyes are on you now, they’re low and shadowed in a longing sadness. “I’ve seen this happen a million times to other guys and I thought that I was being careful enough to avoid it.”

“This is nothing like the other guys.” Your bag slumps off of your shoulder and you carelessly allow it to hit the floor. “Your confession just -” He cuts you off with a tight smile.

“I know. It ruined everything.” He sighs, sad eyes examining the space between the two of you. “I ruined everything and I’m sorry for that, rose. I really am.”

“It didn't. It didn’t ruin anything, it just scared me. I felt suffocated, yes, but not by you. It was by what I felt for you. That’s why this isn’t like what happened with any of the other guys. I never wanted them. Avoiding them was easy but you… avoiding you..” Hyunjin watches your heaving chest with the caution that he thought had abandoned him. He’s quiet, allowing you time to gather your thoughts. He doesn’t want to corner you, he just wants to hear you.

“Why do you call me that?” You whisper once your breathing has steadied. “Why did you start calling me rose?”

Suddenly he’s looking past you then down at the tile under his feet. He leans against the door behind him, a faint smile decorating his sad face. “You were wearing one in your hair on the day that I realized I love you.” He looks over to where his easel is set up. “We were sitting right there and you had a pale pink rose behind your left ear. You picked me one to match and I told you that it was my favorite flower because in that moment it was. It was beautiful but you…your beauty is hard to beat.”

Your heart is thumping in your ears, it’s a sound that you’ve grown comfortable with over the past few days. The clutter of the abandoned room almost seems to disappear as you process his words. The burning in your chest makes itself known along with the newly identified pink flame. The white walls of the studio almost seem brighter as you receive Hyunjin’s confession. You let it sink in and drown out the tension little by little. “So when you paint them…”

“I’m painting you. I’m always painting you.” The thumping is deafening but Hyunjin is clear over the noise. He has always been the only one who can cut through it all, even in your dreams.

You can feel yourself falling just like in your nightmare only it’s forwards. You’re falling forwards as your feet carry you to him. You run. You run to him and you fall into his arms that have been desperate to catch you for months. The burn in your chest is paralyzing, it’s seering and fighting the pink flame for dominance.

You cry into his chest, you sob as the pain of running into the fire engulfs you. It swallows you whole and you stand in it with him, you cling to him before you burn to ash and he holds you like he knows it all. He cradles the back of your head like he can feel the fire ripping your flesh apart.

You’re flush against him, tears soaking his shoulder and burning all over until he does what no one has done before. He puts it all out. A simple kiss to the top of your head dowses the flame and reduces it to a measly spark of fear overshadowed by an uncontainable pink and white glow of love in your chest.

You gasp at the cooling effect. Air rushes into your lungs and you can finally breathe, he’s the oxygen you needed. He’s everything you’ve needed but now you want to give your air away again. You want to give it all to him.

You pull away from his shoulder in one swift motion, your eyes are shut tight as your lips find his and you pull him into a hard and messy kiss. The sound that escapes you both is desperate and beautiful. His lips move with yours in an uncoordinated rhythm that makes your lungs burn comfortably. They burn the way that they’re supposed to.

Hyunjin cries into the kiss. Tears stream down his cheeks as he cradles you against him like you’d vanish if he didn’t. He drinks it all in, he allows himself to live in this moment that he’s been dying to have with you for what feels like an eternity before he reluctantly breaks the kiss.

His eyes are still closed when he pulls away. He whispers to you, careful not to crack the shell of this delicate moment. “I thought you -”

“I don’t want to keep running. I can’t, I need you. I can’t lose you.” Your eyes flutter open at the same time as his. He stares down at you with that smile in his eyes. That smile he has when he sees something beautiful, when he’s utterly enamored by the sight before him. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to do any of this, I only know that I want to do it with you.”

He’s quiet for a couple of seconds before a smile sneaks up on him. It fades just as quickly as it came and his eyebrows pinch together. “You want me?” You nod and the smile shows itself again.

“I want you.” He leans back in, cupping your cheek as he kisses you hard. His body pushes against yours and you move with him as he walks backwards towards one of the few empty desks and lifts you onto it.

His hands explore every inch of you that he can reach. He balls his fist over the baggy flannel hiding your body from him while your fingers tangle in his hair and scratch over his shoulders and up his arms.

He breaks the kiss to run his lips over the flushed flesh of your neck, he whispers into your skin between each kiss “Tell me to stop.” He pulls at the collar of the flannel to kiss the curve of your neck. “I’ve waited so long for this, please tell me to stop. Tell me to wait.”

You push his head further into the crook of your neck as you tilt your head further to give him better access. “I don’t want you to.” He sucks a mark into the skin right below your ear and you pull his tucked in shirt from his pants with an elated moan.

His clumsy fingers fight to unbutton the oversized flannel as yours attempt to unbutton his jeans. You reach your goal before he does and waste no time capitalizing on your victory. You dip your hand in just enough to fish his growing erection from his briefs and wrap your hand around it.

Hyunjin moans at the stimulation, leaning his forehead against yours and squeezing his eyes shut as you stroke him slowly. “Fuck, please don’t, I wont - I can’t last.”

You kiss his temple softly, whispering reassurance that you don’t care to have him last, you just want to have him. Once he’s centered himself again he continues his struggle to expose your body to him. The final button falls open like the curtain to a play and he stares down your scantily clad torso like an audience in awe.

His hand moves on its own as he admires you. It dips into the waistband of your sweatpants and swipes over your clothed clit.

Your head falls forward to rest on his shoulder with a quiet moan as he groans into the air. Your grip on his cock tightens a bit in response to the sensation and he hisses. “Please tell me I can feel you. Is it okay? Can I?”

He doesn't want your first time to be here but he wants you. He needs you.

Hyunjin hooks a finger into the damp gusset of your panties and pulls it to the side just enough to slip a finger into your waiting cunt. You pant in his ear, wanton moans bubble over the brim of your lips as his free hand cradles the side of your neck. “Look at me, please look at me, baby.”

He runs his thumb over your cheek, brushing over the path of your dried tears. “So pretty, this must be a dream.” You shake your head. Speaking between moans. “Not a dream, baby.”

He slips in another finger as you circle your palm over the head of his cock and you both moan. “Please tell me I can.” He leans his forehead against yours, his desperate eyes reflect the look in your own.

“You can. Please, I want you to.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” He’s asking before he can process it and you’re shaking your head before he can even finish his sentence. A shy glaze washes over your desperate gaze as you watch him undress you.

“You’re all I ever think about.” He whispers as he hooks his thumbs into the band of your pants. “You’re all I’ve wanted for the past year.”

“I’ve loved you since my birthday.” You blurt out, vulnerable eyes peering into his. “Maybe even before that.” He runs a finger over your clothed cunt and you shudder under the touch.

“I wanted to kiss you the night of your birthday. You looked so beautiful but you were wasted. You wouldn’t have remembered. I just stared at you, I took your make-up off and I brushed the hair from your face and you stared back at me. I was just dying to kiss you. I was dying to confess.” Your hand runs slowly up his shaft and he swears that he feels electric.

“I wanted to kiss you too.” He’s quiet, staring back at you with a smile. “That’s why I was staring”

“I kissed your forehead when you fell asleep.” He pulls your panties down your legs, allowing them to pool at his feet with your sweatpants. “I knelt by your bed and whispered my confession to you.”

His fingers are filling you again and you gasp while staring into his eyes. “I wanna hear it.” You whisper through a moan.

“You want to hear my confession?” You nod, your gently fucked out gaze stares into his like your hypnotized by the moment. He scissors his finger into you, stretching you out just a bit before you’re gasping from the stretch of him replacing his fingers with his length.

“Fuck, you’re inside of me.” Hyunjin stills with a groan. His forehead rests on your shoulder while he silently begs himself not to come undone just yet. He sucks in a breath before he recites all that he can remember.

“You’re everything that I thought it would be to fall in love.” He whispers as he pulls back, thrusting into you slowly. “You really snuck up on me, I don’t know what I expected though.” He lifts his head to look at you as he sinks back into you. “You became my world so quickly. So effortlessly.”

You cup his face with both of your hands as you bite back your moans. You want to hear him loud and clear. You want to remember every word. “I should’ve known that I’d fall in love when I first met you.” He picks up the pace, falling into a messy rhythm that’s accompanied by a fit of moans and grunts.

He struggles to keep his eyes on you. They flutter shut with each thrust as he feels himself float closer and closer to his climax. “Baby, I won’t last.” You wrap your arms around his neck and one of his wraps around your waist while the other rests on your thigh before creeping over to softly pinch and rub your clit.

“Hyune, you’re gonna make me - gonna -” He cuts you off with a sloppy kiss, his tongue brushes over your parted lips to request access before making room for itself against yours.

“If you tell me that you’re gonna cum I won’t last another second.” He whispers against your lips and you moan against his.

“What if I tell you that I love you.” Hyunjin’s eyebrows pinch at the confession. That’s way worse than telling him that you’re close. “I’ve loved you back for as long as - as long as you’ve loved me.”

“Rose, baby, you’re gonna -” It’s your turn to kiss him now, it’s a mess of teeth and tongue but you love it. You love him and him you.

You both pull away in tandem, twin moans ripping through your chests as you both announce yourself to the other.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” Hyunjin pulls out of you, painting your thighs in his sticky white release while his fingers toy with your clit to ride you through your orgasm. It’s loud and messy and beautiful. A romantic elegance that you want to live in for as long as it’s available.

Once you’ve both come down from your high Hyunjin kisses your sweaty forehead and you kiss his. He pulls his bottoms up before grabbing the cleanest paint rag he has to clean you up. A comfortable silence settles around you as you ground yourself and take in the space.

“You didn’t finish that one.”

He follows your gaze over to the painting of the pale pink rose. The middle of the canvas contrasts the rest with nothing but dull line art to show the completed picture. It looks like a work in progress. “I know, but I think I like it like that.” He looks back over at you and you at him.

“It looks like you."

It’s been seven months. Graduation has come and gone in the middle of your blooming relationship with Hyunjin and you’ve dedicated each and every second of your budding love to taming the flame.

Each kiss from him has kept the spark of fear at bay and each touch has taught you how to stop running. It’s been a slow and cautious process that he is more than proud to be a part of. He takes pride in it. He takes pride in being with you.

The smooth breeze of late summer brushes against your skin as you step out of your car. The white dress that Hyunjin picked out for you sticks to you like paint on a canvas as you make your way up to the art gallery.

It’s buzzing inside, people stand and stare in awe at each piece while whispering and pointing to their favorite details. You stop and stand in the middle of it all, taking it all in with a slow spin on the balls of your feet. You take in every corner until you turn around completely and you’re met with the face of the artist himself.

“Hi.” Hyunjin smiles down at you, brown baggy flannel hanging from his shoulders.

“Hi.” You stare back at him with a gleaming smile in your eyes. You take in every inch of him, scanning him like he should be framed and hanging on the walls around you.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Hyunjin wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “I like staring at you.” Your response makes him beam a shy smile.

“You should be staring at the art. The artist might get sad if you don’t.” He kisses your forehead before letting you go. Some people around you stare over at the two of you with curious eyes. They’re eager to put a face to the muse of the showing artist.

You take his hand and lead him over to the piece that a couple is walking away from. You stand in front of it hand in hand as you study it for what feels like the millionth time. “This one is my favorite.” The incomplete pale pink rose stares back at you.

“And why is that?” Hyunjin has that smile in his eyes as he stares up with you. The memory of this piece's origin plays behind his eyes like a memorized movie.

“I’ve been told that it looks like me.” You lay your head on his shoulder and wrap your arm around his. A chill runs up his spine and he blames it on you. You and the love he feels glowing pink and white around you.

“There you are.” History repeats itself as the lady that you’ve come to know as Dalia interrupts the two of you. “I wanted to check in with you, how does it feel to finally have your own exhibition?”

Hyunjin smiles at her politely, turning towards her a bit with his fingers still threaded through yours. “It’s amazing. Thank you, you’ve done a wonderful job putting this together.”

“Oh, please, it’s nothing. This is all you.” You watch her as her eyes smile just as they always have. Her hand brushes over his arm in a carefully calculated move. She’s still shameless and unprofessional. “This piece is my favorite. The unfinished look is unique and raw. What inspired this one?”

You grin to yourself as you listen to her. She’s trying so hard that it’s difficult not to laugh.

“Actually.” Hyunjin pulls your hand a bit, leading you forward so that you’re right next to him. It’s impossible for Dalia to ignore you now. Her eyes scan you reluctantly and the smile on her face falters for a second before she pulls it together. Gosh, that's gratifying.

“My lovely rose here is the inspiration for it all.” Hyunjin looks over at you with a glow that is unmatched even by the largest of flames. “None of this would be possible without her.”

It’s like Dalia disappears once Hyunjin looks over at you. You’re the only two in the room as far as you’re concerned. “Oh, well that’s just - that’s wonderful.” Her staggered speech pulls you both out of your loving haze.

“Such a … sweet profession of love.” She glares over at you though you’re sure that in her head she’s doing a wonderful job at hiding her contempt. “I should make sure that everything is running smoothly. Please excuse me.”

She clears her throat awkwardly before she departs, you and Hyunjin both bid her smiling farewells before turning to each other with wide smiles. “Show off.” You push his shoulder playfully and he laughs.

“I didn’t do anything.” You roll your eyes as you both wander over to the next piece on the wall. You stare up at the two pink roses in a lone vase, a shadow of sunlight casts down on them both as they rise towards its shining glow.

A comfortable silence blankets the two of you while you listen to the soft buzz of the people around you. You squeeze his hand softly and he squeezes back just as you open your mouth to speak.

“She still wants to fuck you.” He smiles

“Shut up.”

Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you thought about this fic! Leave a comment or send an ask to let me know! ❣️

ALSO, please follow my back-up acct. @minniee-verse 💕

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chaosandmarigolds · 1 day

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More Mafia(Mob??) leaders!daughter and Simon :p pt 2

(I don’t know manhattan, I’m making stuff up.)

“Okay, so,” you hold out your phone to the man, having pulled up the menu to one of your favorite restaurants, “Just double checking- this place can do gf, df, vegan, egg free, soy free, and what else um…” your faltering gave you enough time to look up to see his expression, still wearing that mask but you didn’t mind all that much. However you could see his eyebrows furrowed.

“You don’t have any allergies do you?”

“No.” Simon replied gruffly, taking a quick look behind his shoulder to Ivon- who trailed a good ten or so feet behind.

“Okay…cool! I just didn’t wanna take you somewhere and then you can’t eat anything because that sucks,” You shrug it off as you walk, the sun beginning to set but for the most part it was still light out, “So…Simon, do you have any pets?”

His attention is drawn back to you at the attempt of small talk, voice luring but riddled with a nonchalant smile, a genuine question rather than a groaning force in order to be polite. “One. Sheppard, he’s t’ree.”

That had triggered a whole ramble, you going on about how your childhood pet was a German shepherd who you had named Maddie. And that conversation had lingered until you both were still sitting happily at the table within the plush walls of the restaurant, sipping some wine that held more worth than the name Lieutenant Simon Riley.

All the same, as you both waited for your appetizers to come the words had died down and he thought it best to speak. “So what do you do?”

You blink a few times, bringing the glass to your lips as you wait for him to elaborate.

“For work?”

To that you nod, sipping the wine as you set it down, “My father-okay, well yeah I know, Nepo baby and all that, I should preface this by saying I’m so so super thankful for everything I’ve ever been given, and yeah,” you pause to breathe, it was a spiel you gave to anyone you just met, and normally they wouldn’t believe you, but you meant the words. “I-I know you’re just like ‘yeah sure’ but I am, I am. Anyway, my father- I dunno, he’s like a loan shark or something. He runs-well you know those MDR credit unions? Yeah, that’s my dad’s business, and I’m HR.”

There was a pause and you breathe again, dipping your gaze low to bring the wine over to you, “Anyway…yeah, aside from the flower shop, what do you do?”

Simon had listened to it all with a shaker full of a salt, either you were oblivious to the situation of your family name or you were a good lair- he thought it to be the former. “Working out.”

“I can tell.”

His eyes quickly flashed up from the porcelain plate to you, and only for you to quickly direct your gaze elsewhere. Instead of leaving it, he laughed and then nodded, “Thank you.”

“Mmhm, you’re welcome.“ your words were muffled and you keep your eyes anywhere but his face, “so um…you ever been to the art museum?”

Simon gives you a look, “The one of seventh?”

A nod.

“Isn’t it closed?”

To those words you smile, “Not if your father is the number one donator.”

(Annnnd!!! That’s all I got for right now. Toodles!)

Tag list: @blackhawkfanatic

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley #coco's chaos <3 #simon riley x you #cod fluff #cod x you #simon riley x reader #call of duty fluff #cod simon riley #ghost simon riley

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alchemistc · 2 days

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Couched In Metaphor

"You want a beer man?"

Eddie tilts a look over his shoulder, already halfway through the doorway to his kitchen, and Tommy shoots a glance at his watch. "Mmm, no can do. I'm meeting Evan in a bit."

"Is this my cue to act a fool for your attention?"

There's a moment where Tommy wants to double down on defense for Evan, but it's a joke, it's just a joke and if Evan were right next to him he'd definitely enjoy the gentle ribbing. He tries not to examine the immediate desire to defend him too closely. Too much, too soon, it's barely been a few months.

"And he's got jokes, ladies and gentlemen."

Eddie grins: wide, amused. It's what he came for - the chance to get Eddie out of his own head for a few hours. "You guys doing anything special?"

"We're on a mission to pick out a new couch, apparently."

When Eddie stills, Tommy swears it's like he's just been frozen in place; the beer in his hand raised halfway to his mouth, lips pursed, brows raised, a cartoon character stuck in time. He plays it off a moment later, hastily lowering the bottle, nodding. "Don't let him bring a clipboard."

It's Tommy's turn to wrinkle his brow.

"No good can come when that man's got a prioritized list, Tommy, I'm serious."

"So we're ignoring the fact that there's apparently something about tagging along for furniture shopping that just made you freeze frame?"

Eddie tilts his head, squints his eyes, takes a drag off his beer. "That's a Buck and Tommy conversation, not an Eddie and Tommy conversation. You wanna know more about the clipboard, though, I've got about thirty horror stories."

---

"I feel like maybe I've been bamboozled," Tommy says, three furniture stores in. The couch Evan is currently testing is -- just like every other couch they've looked at so far.

"None of them have been right."

He's got that look in his eyes like he's been knocking on doors in a structure fire for too long.

"Are we worried about aesthetics, here, or comfort, or whether or not they fit the space? Eddie warned me about Clipboard Buck but maybe you should pull up your notes app and make a pro con list."

Evan flushes. Darts a glance down at his feet, and his thumbs dig into the seams of his hoodie pocket. "I just thought I'd walk in and find what I was looking for. Sort of thought it'd just - call to me, or something."

"It's a couch Evan, not a lifetime commitment."

And Evan flushes deeper, cheeks pinking, lips twisting. Tommy, who's been hovering nearby while Evan tests out what feels like half a million identical couches, feels himself sigh, bending and twisting to settle next to him, one hand reaching out to squeeze at Evan's knee.

"So it seems like maybe there's a story here I'm not aware of."

It sort of tumbles out of Evan, then, a rush of half apologies and stumbling explanations, and Tommy thinks of the snatches of conversations they've had about their past partners, their admittedly not great parents.

"And - you know, I just thought. I mean. I figured." He gestures, vaguely, and then more pointedly, a glance from beneath his lashes to catch Tommy's gaze as he waggles a finger between the two of them.

Oh.

Tommy waits a beat. Sometimes it's better to let Evan work it out in his own head for a second.

Also, he's - sort of reeling, a bit. Too much, too soon, he'd thought, but here he was, unaware of the significance of being asked on this little errand until he suddenly wasn't, and -

"Sorry. That's - it's not like - anyway, I've clearly put way too much weight into the couch thing, you're right, it's just a couch."

He's been ignoring the urge to curl his fingers around Evan's for the better part of two hours, now. He doesn't question it, usually, but in this specific scenario it's felt too couple-y, too forward, too much like begging a sales associate to make some assumptions Evan wasn't prepared to deal with.

Evan's still twisting his hands together inside the pocket of his jacket, and Tommy makes the snap decision before he can talk himself out of it - two fingers tucking into the pocket, pressing into the meat of Evan's palm, pressing up and pulling without any real force, and it's like Evan deflates, a bit, hand immediately following the soft drag out of the fabric to curl four fingers around Tommy's palm.

"It doesn't have to be just a couch."

---

They have their first fight, navigating the stairwell up to Evan's floor, and situate it in the room in stony silence. Tommy considers leaving, once it's exactly as Evan wants it. He's good at that - jumping ship at the first sign of trouble, and he has to swallow the urge down while Evan glares a hole into the armrest.

He's just opening his mouth to speak when Evan's voice drifts over to him, quieter than he'd expected. "I really don't want it to just be a couch."

And Tommy's never -

He's dated plenty of people - cared for less, and loved very few, but he's never steeped shit in metaphor and he's also never gone from "attracted to the straight guy again" to "this inanimate object is a symbol of our relationship" in -- ever.

"Evan."

There's a flatness to his voice that only ever comes out when he's truly upset, and he hates it, hates that he can just shut it all off. He makes a conscious effort, unfurls the fists shoved into his pants pockets. Tries again.

"We're hiring someone if you ever wanna move that damn thing again."

Evan's smile splits across his face like the sun breaking over the horizon.

---

Christopher eyes the couch with suspicion.

"It's a lot bigger than your old ones," he finally manages, with a shifty glance between the two of them, and Tommy has to remind himself that Evan had gone down a rabbit hole of research trying to find the best way to clean leather once they'd finally gotten over themselves and proceeded with the making up part of their argument.

Eddie clocks the look running across his face, and makes a face at Evan. Evan tucks his tongue into his cheek, but he can't quite hide his grin, and Tommy tries not to imagine the next time they'll need to go furniture shopping.

---

"Can I admit something?" Evan asks, fingers shifting across the expanse of Tommy's chest, head tucked neatly beneath his chin.

Tommy hums, still half asleep, trying to ignore the crick in his neck and the wide expanse of his lower back that keeps sinking into the crack between the cushions.

Evan presses his lips lazily into the side of Tommy's neck. "I actually hate this couch. It's the worst."

Tommy laughs, and laughs, and laughs some more when Evan presses up on his elbow to pout straight into his face.

Tommy can't help but curl a palm around his jaw, ring and middle finger sliding up to cup his cheek, reaching for the marks at his brow. "Can we skip the torture of another horrendous shopping trip and just toss this one to the curb when I ask you to move in with me?"

He only stills for half a moment, eyes already bright and wide and happy before he nods. "When?" he repeats, all puppy enthusiasm as he buries his face back in Tommy's neck.

"Keep it to yourself, though, I haven't decided how I'm gonna ask. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."

Evan hums, fingers drifting down his arm, now - it's a familiar, teasing path that always drives Tommy a little wild, and - yep, they skate over his wrist, dancing right along the length of his fingers and down across his hip, little finger spreading wide towards his inseam.

---

Evan breaks his couch the first night all his things have been unpacked.

He makes a little pleased hum, low in his throat, when Tommy pulls up the same site he'd used to buy it, adds three to his cart, and passes the laptop off to Evan for opinions. Curls a warm hand around the back of Tommy's neck, presses his lips to the crown of Tommy's head. Tommy takes a moment to enjoy the feel of it.

"Pick one," he manages through gritted teeth when Evan nips at his earlobe.

"It's just a couch, babe, whichever one you want."

#buck x tommy #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #listen i'm not to the couch part in my binge yet i just caught it in an edit and this came out #911 fic

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softpascalito · 2 days

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I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 2 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: i can't tell you all how i excited i am to get this fic going! thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, i promise there is a lot of cool stuff to come!

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 2 - The Patrol

‘Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.’ - Richard Silken, The Worm King’s Lullaby

There is a thin sheet of ice covering the streams that are heading downwards. It crunches under the hooves of their horses that dutifully carry them up the hill and past the gas station. Joel is glad that it's Tommy next to him. He's more tense than he's felt in ages, a gnawing feeling in his stomach that has little to do with the skipped breakfast and a lot with the worry that is etched into the frown between his brows. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, much less try and calm him down, something he knows is a lost battle.

“They might be fine, Joel,” his younger brother says gently, just loud enough for him to hear. Tommy thinks there will be no response until one comes, a little too late for it to not be premeditated.

“She talked about leaving, sometimes. They would be stupid enough to run off-”

“And leave Jackson?” Tommy raises a brow. “Maria said their house looked normal, all their things still in place. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave all that behind.”

Joel doesn't want to hear it. He knows, better than anyone. Knows that you wouldn't just leave, not without saying goodbye to the children you'd come to care about so much. Would you leave him without a goodbye?

He almost hopes you would. Because if you didn't leave willingly, what was the alternative? It would've been nearly impossible for someone to take you from inside Jackson with no one noticing. But he can't shake the feeling that something is off.

It’s Tommy who has to keep reminding him to ride slow, to keep an eye on the ground for possible tracks. Joel just wants to go, to spur Old Beardy on until they're galloping up the hill, despite not knowing where it is he needs to go. He just wants to find you. Preferably in one piece, happy and healthy.

He would’ve missed it.

The small footprints leading off the road and onto a smaller path, one that's twisting through pines and further into the woods.

Tommy nods. “Pretty sure ‘tis the one that leads to the hunting cabin.”

It only takes a few minutes for them to be sure. The wooden cabin is hidden away behind a few trees, difficult to spot if you don't know where to look. It doesn't really serve any purpose, at least not anymore. The roof at the back caved in years ago, allowing rain and plants alike to enter the dimly lit room. It’s less than five miles from the gate of Jackson, tucked away from the main road.

He can’t help but think that this would be the perfect place to run off to. Or to hide a body.

Joel is off his horse in a second, not even bothering to tie the stallion's halter to the wooden posts in front of the cabin. Without thinking, he tugs his revolver out of his waistband, using his foot to nudge the door open.

He smells it before his eyes even have a chance to adjust to the dim light. The unmistakable stench of blood. And mixed with it, creating an odor that immediately makes him sick to his stomach, the smell of gunpowder in the air.

***

The sun has been slowly rising while you’ve been flipping through the pages, trying to find the volumes you’re looking for. The library of Jackson, though rather small, has been frequented more and more, especially in the winter months when the weather doesn’t always allow activities outside and people resort to what they’ve always known: Books.

The entire place is supposed to be relocated soon, to a small store on main street. But compared to the greenhouses needing repairs and the stables being expanded, books don't seem to be a priority for most of the townsfolk.

“Books can’t feed us or keep us safe,” Maria pointed out when you brought the slow progress up to her. You politely disagree. You feel like you could live off books for the rest of your life.

Still, packing up everything means the old place, a shed tucked away behind the church, is currently a mess. Sagging bookshelves, a leaky roof and too many books for too little space means chaos. One that only few bother to navigate in its current state. You among them.

It was the crack of dawn when you slipped out of the house, deciding to let Lane sleep in while you walked through the still empty streets to the far end of the town, hoping to get the library work out of the way before the first lesson of the day.

Maria is the one that finds you, making your head peek up from between two shelves with a frown. “You changed your mind on those books?”

She gives a small laugh, one that sounds oddly like relief. Then her face becomes stern again, the look she carries much more often. “You two have some explaining to do, do you realize that?”

Now it's your turn to frown. “We two?” She pauses at that, looking around the small room. But there is no one here but you and her and the characters bleeding from the pages.

“Is Lane not with you?”

You shake your head, turning your attention back to the book in your hands. “She has the 8AM class today.”

“She's not there,” Maria curtly responds. You can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady but there is a hint of anxiety regardless.

“Then she overslept again,” you half guess-half ask, closing the book again.

“She's not at home either.”

An odd feeling crawls over your body. You can't remember what was in your hands a moment ago, but the question is forgotten in an instant. Maria carefully watches as you step out from between the shelves, her tone still gentle. “I've sent Tommy and Joel out to search. We thought you two snuck out.”

You feel numb as you shake your head. “No, I- I didn't see her this morning. I thought she was still asleep.” You rack your brain for the memories of this morning, of last night, of the last week even. But nothing comes to mind, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I was out late last night, finishing up some paperwork,” you mutter, more to yourself than the woman in front of you, retracing your steps in your mind. “Lane got home before me, I had dinner, we talked about blueberries-”

“Blueberries?” Maria asks, her hand already back on the doorknob. She seems restless and it's that fleeting detail that worries you more than anything. Maria stays in control. Always.

“Yeah, we- It doesn't matter. I don't know where she is,” you finish lamely, getting up and joining her at the door. But she hasn't moved yet.

“You should stay at home. I'm sure she'll show up again soon and if she comes back to your place, someone should be there.” You nod but your mind is already drifting again. Lane’s been doing fine, good. So have you, really. Maria gently reaches for your shoulder, steering you out of the shed and towards the church, down the street that leads to the center of Jackson.

You're passing the small graveyard that's protected by brick walls, the stones already withered, pale in contrast to the dark metal fence running along on top. The gate is ajar, but you barely pay it any attention as the information settles in your brain. It takes a few seconds for it to reach your mouth and leave your lips.

“She went out a few times.”

“Out?” Maria enquires, raising an eyebrow as her attention shifts back to you.

“I thought she'd met someone. Cat and her were pretty close and I figured-” You give a small shrug. It's more than uncomfortable, suddenly, and absurd, that you're discussing Lane's private life so openly, with Maria of all people.

“Don't tell her I said that,” you add quickly.

Maria nods as you reach the end of the brick wall. “I won't. I'll get back to the city hall and see if there’s any news yet. You go home.”

Your head nods as if on its own accord. Maria has already turned her back towards you when you pipe up. “Maria?”

She pauses, her back straightening a bit. “Yes?”

“You don't think anything happened to Lane, do you?”

The older woman shakes her head softly. “No. I'm sure she's fine. Now get home. Maybe she's already there.”

And she hurries off, leaving you at the corner of the street with a trembling body and a heavy feeling in your stomach. For a fleeting moment, you allow your thoughts to wander past the point you've been dreading to consider. What if something has happened? If Lane did sneak out, maybe with Cat, maybe alone, and got into some sort of situation? What if she's hurt?

The sky has turned from pink to a light blue, only a few clouds piling around the mountains on the horizon. You glance down at your hands, shaking ever so slightly. You decide to blame it on the cold. The cold that may be getting to your head as well. Because after a few moments, you turn on your heels, heading for the stables. It's only a few rows of houses until the large wooden wall looms in front of you, blocking out the little sunlight you could get in the morning. The wall that protects you from what lies beyond. Infected and Raiders and maybe, you think, as you slip into the stables, maybe answers.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting, every single notif on this fic makes my heart swell with love <3

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annwrites · 3 days

Text

my lil' cherry pie

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: honestly, it's just a whole lotta fuckin' in this one

— tags: billy being extremely happy. billy having an idea involving the hood of his car. you & billy getting frisky in the shower.

— tw: sex, exhibitionism, bj, f receiving oral

— word count: 5,509

— a/n: i wish loverboy's lovin' every minute of it had come out a year earlier, bc billy would've 100% been blaring that in the camaro, too, after spending all morning in bed with reader lol.

i am also AWARE that bon jovi's slippery when wet didn't come out until '86, but i wanted to use that line in the shower scene, so it is what it is.

i'm not writing billy as some perfect casanova in the bedroom. i'm aware that's the fantasy with him, but he's still an eighteen-year-old boy. and i think it's actually sweet that he has a harder time lasting with reader in certain situations, bc he's just that turned on bc it's with her—his dream girl.

find my other posts concerning billy here

Billy grinds his hips down against your ass, unable to sink any deeper inside your soaking heat. “That feel good, honey?”

You whimper in response, nearly drooling on the pillow beneath you, which your cheek rests upon, your head turned toward the curtained window. “Y-yes,” you say quietly, clenching around him.

“Mm, I bet.” He drawls out.

He slowly eases out and then back into you, and your eyes roll back at the feeling, slowly closing. You grip the sheets under you.

He removes one hand from gripping the mattress and instead grips your hip instead, circling his own. “You like that, sweetheart?”

You nod, burying your face in the pillow as he flexes his shoulder blades, gripping you harder.

“I can tell. God, you’re fucking soaked. I can hear just how wet you are.”

He wasn’t wrong. After last night—you not orgasming from penetration alone during your first time—he’d awoken shortly before dawn on a mission.

He’d woken you with hot kisses along your bare breasts, down your stomach, then back up to your lips. You’d been half-asleep when he’d eased inside of you, causing you to gasp in surprise.

You’d orgasmed the second time the two of you had sex the night before, but that’d only been due to him rubbing feverishly at your clit until you did so.

You think that maybe his manhood feels a bit threatened by it. So, he’d spent hours this morning inside of you, using everything he had, everything he knew, to make you cum from his cock alone.

While you enjoyed yourself, he treated it more like some training exercise. Learning the ins and out of your body. What made you tremble and shake with pleasure and what didn’t.

Your first ‘session’ had to be cut short because he’d gotten a cramp it was taking so long for you to reach a climax—you hadn’t even been close when he’d stopped.

You’d tried explaining to him that it was okay—you saw nothing wrong with only being able to come from clitoral stimulation alone, but he’d said that wasn’t good enough.

So, a few minutes later, he’d sat you in his lap, your back pressed to his chest and his cock between your legs once more. Halfway through, you’d reached down to begin playing with yourself, until he’d grabbed your hand, lightly smacking it. “Aa, none of that,” he’d chastised you.

That position had reached some new place inside of you, but still not quite right. So he’d laid down, gripping your hips, telling you to do whatever felt good. You’d bounced on his cock and it’d only taken him watching you do as much for a few minutes before he’d came himself. And loudly.

He’d needed to take another break after that.

The third time, he’d had the both of you lay down on your sides, him once again pressed up behind you, your left leg thrown over his hip as he gripped yours, fucking you fervently. He had pounded away inside of you, both of his hands eventually moving higher, grabbing your tits, squeezing, toying with your nipples, even sticking his fingers in your mouth, but you still didn’t cum.

And right now was his fourth attempt. You were so wet now that it was all over your thighs. His as well. You could hear it every time he eased his cock in and out—squelching. It made your face heat in embarrassment, even if he’d stressed how hot he found it to be. Teasing you about it earlier had not helped, however. Like when he had told you 'It's like a fuckin' slip and slide down here. At least I don't have to worry about pickin' up lube once we hit the road again.'.

He reaches down, spreading your left leg, until your knee is bent and he slips slowly out, then back in.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, his cock twitching inside of you.

You lay your cheek back against the pillow, panting lightly at just how relaxed you feel.

He runs his palm down your spine and your body trembles, you clenching around him again. You want so badly to reach between your legs. You’d been desperate to come hours ago, but unless it was from his cock and only that, he wouldn’t allow it.

He lowers himself closer to you. “C’mon, baby, I know you like this. Tell me what you need.”

Honestly, it all felt pretty good. Okay, really good. But no matter what he did, there just didn’t seem to be some magical spot inside of you that would bring you over the edge.

“I…dunno. Mm. Feels good, though.”

His brow twitches, back starting to hurt. “Believe me, I can tell just how good you feel. Just,” he grunts. “Tell me how to get you to cum all over my cock, doll.”

You snuggle the pillow under you, pushing your hips back against him. “My clit.”

He groans. “Anything else.”

You shrug slightly, now drooling. “Ah, Billy…”

He slips out of you and you pout quietly, until he flips you onto your back.

When you look up at him, the curls at his hairline are now damp and sticking to his forehead, a few drops of sweat beading there. He really was working hard at this.

“Alright, time to try something else,” he says lowly.

You spread your legs wide for him, gripping your breasts, tugging against your nipples and he takes himself in-hand, easing into you.

You sigh in satisfaction.

He then presses his right hand down on your lower stomach, applying pressure there.

He reaches up with his other hand, sticking two fingers in your mouth and you drool all over them, sucking, licking, nearly gagging yourself on them you’re so into it.

He turns his hips just the least bit to the left and you gasp, pulling his fingers out. “Ah, there.”

He looks up at you, stilling for only a moment, eyes wide—excited. “Yeah?”

You nod, shoving his fingers back in your mouth.

He keeps his body just like that—his cock positioned in that exact spot, and he begins to pound away inside of you.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You push his fingers back out, gripping his hand in both of yours—and hard—holding on for dear life as his tip continually teases and hits that most perfect part of you inside.

At first, it almost feels like your bladder is about to let loose, but God it feels so good. You thought everything else he’d done to you for the last few hours had been pleasurable? Wrong. This was pleasure.

You reach back, your palm planted flat against the headboard, your back arching, hips grinding down against his own, head thrown back. “Oh God, don’t stop. Please. Oh, Billy. Mm, yes, right there!”

He fucks you harder. “Oh, I’m not fucking stopping.”

He was worn out and his calf was cramping something fucking awful, his lower back needing a break, but this was what he’d spent all morning working toward. He couldn’t give in now.

“C’mon, darlin’, c’mon. Come on my cock, baby. That’s it. You’re so fucking close, I know it.”

You begin to clench rapidly around him and your eyes go wide as you take in shallow gasps of breath in anticipation as the feeling builds and builds and then…you scream. So hard you nearly choke yourself on calling out his name in ecstasy. “Billy! Yes! Oh God, yes! Ah!”

He begins to laugh, skin slapping against yours, groaning as he fills yet another condom to the brim, coming fucking hard. “Jesus Christ, baby,” he says as he finishes.

Finally, he collapses on top of you, the both of you heaving for breath, drenched in sweat, the sheets beneath you an utter mess. The room…smells of the both of you, to put it kindly. Sweat and cum and heat and something primitive. Sex. This was the smell of sex. Purely unadulterated.

He’s so weak, he can barely lift his head. So, he instead lies there, crushing you with his body weight, but having him covering you feels…nice. Secure. Safe, even.

You wrap one arm around his broad shoulders, your other hand smoothing back sweat-slick curls as you kiss the side of his head. A pulse still going strong between your legs.

He mutters into the mattress, his tone that of exhaustion. “So, you finally came that time?”

You giggle lightly. “Yes, I definitely did.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can take anymore. You’re fuckin’ insatiable. And I thought my sex-drive was bad.”

You burst out laughing. “Me? You’re the one who wouldn’t let it go.”

He buries his face in your shoulder. “Just like a woman to let a man do all the work without a word of thanks in return.”

You roll your eyes, then kiss the top of his head of messy hair. “Thank you, Billy.”

“You’re fuckin’ welcome.”

Currently, you and Billy are sitting in traffic at a red light while he blares the song Cherry Pie—so loudly it makes your eardrums hurt.

He gets especially into the lyrics when he bangs the palm of his hand against the wheel, his wide smile growing even larger, to the line ‘swingin’ to the bass in the back of my car!’.

A smile crawls onto your own face—he’d been like this all morning since you’d gotten out of bed—which you’re unsuccessful in hiding from him.

He gives you a toothy grin, sliding his hand up your thigh to the edge of your skirt, then under it, blowing you a kiss, even winking, and then you glance to the girls in the yellow convertible next to you, who seem to be admiring his ride. Him as well, clearly.

And you decide now is the moment to put everything that’s developed between the two of you to the test. You nod toward their car. “I think you have a couple of admirers!” You shout over the music.

He shrugs. “Do I?” He asks, shifting, turning back to the windshield, accelerating as he drives past them, never once looking in their direction.

When Billy stops for gas, he leaves you to fill the car while he goes inside to ‘get a pack of smokes’, but actually purchases another box of condoms, having used up all the rest of his—minus one—that morning.

When he returns to you, you’re just putting the nozzle back, and he comes up from behind you, squeezing you.

When you turn around, smiling warmly, he picks you up, spinning you around. You laugh, your hands holding onto his shoulders, looking down at his happy, smiling face. He finally lowers you back onto the ground, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing your backside up against the pump as he kisses you long and deep.

When he pulls back, you grip the collar of his button-up shirt. “Someone’s in a good mood today.”

He nuzzles his nose against your neck and you giggle at the ticklish gesture. “I’m in a great fucking mood, baby.”

He walks around, opening your door for you and your heart melts. Had you finally, after all the fighting and running and pushing back against each other, reached a mutually happy place with one another?

You lower yourself inside and he leans down, kissing you again.

“Mhm,” he hums in approval, closing the door.

Once you reach Flagstaff, Billy has calmed. Minimally. He still occasionally blared his music—particularly when AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long came on—and a selection of other music. He also had put his hands on you every chance he got—you were sure you had every line and callus memorized by now. And he’d told you a couple times how lucky he was. That he loved you.

He stressed how happy you made him.

You’d cried tears of joy at it all, in disbelief that he was finally treating you the way you’d always dreamed of being treated by another. You had truly thought just a couple days ago that you would never find love. Now? The love of your life sat right next to you.

Once the sky grew dark, Billy had pulled off into an empty lot, turning to you, head leaned back, hand once again slipping between your thighs. “Once the engine cools off a bit, I want to try something.”

You raised a brow, your hand sliding up his strong, tanned arm. “Oh?”

He’d nodded, leaning in toward you, slipping his hand into your panties, fingers playing with your clit.

He spent the next few minutes teasing you and toying with that sensitive bundle until you were soaking.

He pulls away. “So, not that I need to ask,” he says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “But it’s safe to assume that you still want to see the West with me?”

You smile, nodding, looking at him adoringly.

He smirks. “I told you I always get what I want.”

You glance down to his hand, rolling your eyes.

And then he cups your cheek. “I meant you, baby. It was always you.”

Your brows furrow, eyes stinging, and then you kiss him again.

“Billy, if someone sees us doing this we could be arrested for…public indecency, or-”

He sighs. “Live a little, will you? C’mon, I’ve been dreaming about doing this since I had you in the driver’s seat. Alright, way before that. Like the first fuckin' day I put eyes on you.”

You look around the empty lot and jolt from nerves when you hear someone laying on their car horn off in the distance.

He reaches down to the hem of your dress with a raised brow, his own shirt already unbuttoned.

You sigh. “So help me, Billy Hargrove, if we both end up in jail-”

“Y’know what, putting you in cuffs at some point seems like a good idea, too, now that you mention it.”

You groan as he takes the rest of your clothes off.

Currently, you’re completely naked, laid back on the hood of Billy’s Camaro, your legs spread open, him standing between them. You watch as he unbuckles his belt, tossing it inside the car, and he then unbuttons and unzips his jeans, easing them, along with his briefs, down to his ankles, taking himself in his hand.

And then you sit up suddenly, hanging your head between your knees, groaning in irritation.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t want to now. I've had enough of you given' me blue balls for the last week.”

You look up at him. He’d already gotten the two of you a room for the night at a local motel—recently opened, so for once you were to be staying in a nice place—so all your things were there. Including condoms. The only reason the two of you had gone back out was to get a bite to eat for dinner.

“We don’t have any protection.”

He swears, yanking his pants back up. “Fuck!”

He looks back to you, considering. “What if I use the pull-out method instead?”

You shift atop the hood. “Is that…does it always work? I mean, what is it, exactly?”

“I come anywhere but inside of you.”

“Have you done it before like that?” You ask, doubtful.

In truth, no, he hadn’t. He’d always used condoms. Always.

“First time for everything,” he says, looking at you from under his lashes, forehead creased, hands on his hips.

After a moment, you lay back down. “Okay.”

He positions himself between your legs again, dropping his pants. He leans over you, palm pressed against the hood of the car, his other hand guiding himself into you.

He grips both of your hips, gently fucking you, your feet planted on either side of the hood.

His eyes trail along your bare body and he grows impossibly harder. “God, you look so fucking hot right now. You’re perfect, honey.”

You scoot closer to him, trying to wrap your legs around his waist, so he grips you by your thighs, pounding away inside of you, skin slapping against skin, his breathing ragged as he watches your breasts bounce with each pump of him, your fingers clawing against the hood.

He angles his hips, trying to reach that spot inside of you that you both enjoy, and knows he’s found it when your eyes roll back, body slightly arching off the car.

He smirks, running his hands up your thighs, then back down, squeezing them. “Maybe I should see what my shifter looks like inside of you next.”

You clench around him, then look up at him with curious eyes.

He shrugs. “After you polish my knob first, maybe.”

You roll your eyes, whimpering. “You need help. Who even comes up with something like that?”

“Oh, you’re definitely helping me, sweetheart,” he says, thrusting into you again and again. “And you’d be surprised.”

You then wonder what it would be like: having him in your mouth. You’d not done that yet. Maybe an idea for when you get back to the room.

Your imagination toying with the thought gets cut short by a sudden boom of thunder overhead, lightning flashing not far from the two of you…and then it begins to downpour.

You try to shield your eyes from the sudden onslaught of rain, Billy essentially paying it no mind as he continues to work his body with yours in tandem.

You gasp and his head jerks up, smirking, thinking it’s from him, but it’s the cool droplets pelting against your hot skin, quickly cooling you.

“Now you’re really wet,” he calls over the sound of rain pounding against the car, laughing.

You begin to shiver. “A-are you almost done yet?”

He raises a brow. “Me? What about you?” He angles his hips yet again and you curse, saying his name.

“We’re not leaving until we’ve both come, sweetheart, so we might be here for awhile!” He moves his hand to your clit, his thumb beginning to rub fast circles.

You wrap your arms around yourself, the only part of you that now feels warm being that which is between your legs.

“Can’t we just go back and I try what you said instead?”

“What’s that?”

“You in my mouth?”

He stares at you for just a moment, then quickly pulls out, moaning as he finishes all over your stomach at the thought, the rain washing it off of you.

“So…how do we uh…”

He lifts your chin with his finger, putting your eyes on his instead of on his erection.

“Well, you’ll be on your knees either way,” he says quietly. “But I don’t know which would be easier for you: me sitting or standing.”

“Which would you prefer?” You ask nervously.

He’d just fucked you on the hood of his car right out in the open in the middle of a thunderstorm and now you were nervous?

He decides sitting would be the better option. You’d not done this before and if it took you awhile—which it likely would—he didn’t want to interrupt things because his legs were tired.

He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping in the middle from his weight, and you settle onto your knees in front of him, taking him in your hand.

He knows just from the sight of you like this alone, he won’t last long.

He’d thought before that he had pretty good stamina when it came to sex. But with you… Jesus, had it shortened.

You look at him with wide eyes, stroking like you’d done the other night. “Does that feel good?”

He quickly nods, throwing his head back, closing his eyes. “Yeah, honey, that feels good.”

You study it for a moment, then decide to just go for it. You lower your mouth onto his length and his eyes shoot open, hips bucking, causing you to gag as he hits the back of your throat.

You pull back, licking your lips. “Did I do something wrong?”

He runs one of his hands through his hair, worrying about coming all over you already. “No, just…try again. It was good, sweetheart.”

You lower your mouth onto him again and he curls his toes, fisting the comforter underneath him, holding on with everything he has, trying not to…not to…

You begin to bob your head, gently sucking, swirling your tongue around him, not really sure what you’re doing, but giving it your best shot either way. You rest your palms atop his thighs, then pull back, him slipping out of your mouth and you stroke him again as you take a breath, then swallow the length of him again.

“Fuck,” he curses, reaching up, gripping your hair, making a ponytail with both of his hands, holding it out of the way as he watches you.

“Oh God,” he mutters and before you can ask what’s wrong, you feel him shooting into the back of your throat.

You gag at the unusual feeling, pulling away, cum dribbling off of your chin.

You look up to him, silent for a moment, then, “That…was…” Fast? You don’t think you should say that, however.

He stares down at you, mortified. “What?” He asks, tone unreadable.

You need to give him a reassuring answer. You smile softly. “Different. I liked it. Did…did you? I mean, did I do okay?”

He could nearly cry from relief. You had no idea that he’d prematurely… He couldn’t even think of it.

He lays back on the bed, reaching toward the nightstand, pulling a number of tissues out of the box which sits on it and his hips jerk when he feels you suddenly take him in your hand again.

He sits up, wiping your face. “You were incredible, doll.”

You smile.

And he’d been worried that you would take too long, not that he wouldn’t able to last.

He lays back again, shaking his head.

Billy had excused himself to the bathroom for a moment afterward and you'd sat quietly on the bed, patiently waiting for him. He may've been your first in everything—minus kissing; you'd done that with a boy you couldn't remember the name of now, when you were seven on the playground—but you knew finishing that quickly wasn't...the norm. Not for him, at least.

If anything, though, it made you feel flattered. He'd enjoyed the sight of you like that in front of him—the feel of himself in your mouth—so much that he hadn't been able to hold back, or exercise practically any kind of self-control to last even a moment longer.

When he emerges, you speak. "Do you want to take a shower together?"

He smirks, mood lightening, embarrassment waning. "You don't have to ask me twice, darlin'."

"It's in my eyes!" You holler, wiping suds away from your face, the chemical taste also getting in your mouth.

Billy curses, grabbing your shoulders, holding you directly under the shower head, erection pressed firmly into the small of your back.

You'd been busy trying to wash your hair when you'd felt his hand slipping between your legs, fingers easing inside of you and next thing you knew, you were being blinded by a bit of Finesse.

You keep your eyes squeezed shut as his fingers work diligently against your scalp, getting all the soap out.

He then turns you around to face him. "Alright, open."

You slowly blink up at him, then scowl. "Don't ever do that again."

He shrugs, shampooing his own hair then. "Just thought your bush needed a little extra attention with the shampoo, too."

You glance down, crossing your arms, looking back up to him. "You're one to talk."

He smirks. "Never said I didn't like it."

You cock your head to the side, then smile up at him.

He raises a brow in interest.

And then you pinch one of his nipples.

He reaches up, pressing his palm overtop of it. "Ow! The fuck did you do that for?"

You smirk. "Just a bit of payback for all the times you yanked on my hair in class."

He leans down toward you then, causing your back to bump against the shower wall. He slips one hand down your waist, grabbing one of your asscheeks. "Now there's an idea. You want me to pull your hair, honey? I always wondered what it'd feel like wrapped around my fist."

You nearly make a joke, asking just how long he'd last that time, but don't want to hurt him.

He presses a kiss to your neck, then whispers, "Maybe I'll let you yank on mine, too, next time I have my head between your legs."

You take him in your hand, then, and he sucks in a sharp breath, watching as you get on your knees.

You look up at him. "Why don't we just start now?"

You swallow the length of him and he slaps one of his hands against the wet shower wall, cursing.

He reaches down, winding your long hair around one of his fists, vowing to last longer this time. He gently pushes further into your mouth, pulling against your hair, biting his lip.

You stare up, drooling all over him just a bit, then suck, pulling your mouth away with a 'pop', stroking him.

He closes his eyes, brows furrowed, using every ounce of strength he has in him not to come all over your face right now.

You ease back down onto him again, cupping the bottom of his shaft with your tongue and you gag when his hips jerk, sending him deeper. You pull back for a moment, taking a breath, then going back in.

Billy stares up at the ceiling, fist iron-tight around your hair. Looking at you is not a good idea at the moment. But the fucking sounds you're making aren't helping in the least, either. Gagging and sucking and—fuck—you keep doing this thing with your tongue that no girl has ever done before. How the hell are you so good at this?

You're not afraid to get messy, that much is clear. Then again, being already in the shower will make clean-up that much easier.

He prays to God the hot water doesn't run out anytime soon.

You hollow your cheeks, sucking harder then and he groans, saying your name, cock twitching in the back of your throat.

You wonder if you're doing alright, if he likes it—you still having not much of an idea of what to do—but from the way his entire body is tensed up, you take it as a sign that you're onto something.

You swirl your tongue around the tip of him, the taste somewhat salty, then swallow, head continuing to bob along his length.

Billy looks down finally, seeing that your eyes are closed, like you're enjoying yourself just as much as he is. "Fuck, angel. I don't know how much longer I can-"

You pull back, looking up at him, batting your lashes, stroking him in your hand. "Hm?"

He twitches in your grip, knowing he's getting closer.

After a moment of silence, you shrug, easing your mouth onto him once more.

You reach up, gently cupping his testicles and his eyes go wide when you gently tug against them. "Holy fuck-"

You hollow your cheeks.

"Jesus fuckin'-"

You swirl your tongue, taking him as deep as you can manage without gagging, moving your neck at a rapid pace.

And then he suddenly pulls your head closer to him, fist still in your hair, and he begins to buck his hips, cock slamming against the back of your throat, until he finally throws his head back, groaning, spilling down your throat as he finishes.

Once you've cleaned him with your tongue, he reaches down, gently pulling your hand away from his softening member.

You stand then.

"Did...did you swallow again?" He asks.

Wait. Were you not supposed to do that? Was...was that bad? You'd done it earlier, too, and he hadn't said anything... So you'd just gone with it, assuming that it was a normal thing to do.

"Yes, why? Am I not supposed to do-"

He smirks, shaking his head. "No, it's not that, sweetheart. Just...most girls spit."

"Oh." Your brows furrow. Sounds like a waste to you. "Well, I don't mind swallowing."

His smile grows wider. And then he leans down, muttering 'my lil' cherry pie', before kissing you passionately.

He then pulls back, lips still touching against your own. "Time to repay the favor."

He kneels on one knee, other leg bent, foot still flat on the tiled shower floor.

You lean back against the corner of the shower and he lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder and begins to lick, easing two fingers inside of you, curling them, massaging, sucking against your clit.

"Oh God, Billy..." You grip his shoulder, until he grabs your hand, settling it on the top of his head.

He glances up to you with a wicked smirk. "Fair's fair, sugar."

He goes back to teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue and your fingers clench tightly around his wet curls, pulling his face in closer to your core.

He chuckles against you, muttering into your mound, "needy little thing" before kissing you there and spearing his tongue inside of you.

You nearly slam your head back against the wall as he begins tracing his name on your clit, intent on finishing this time.

He grabs your thigh tightly, feeling you growing closer, and he begins to go faster. On the 'o' in his last name, you begin to clench more rapidly around him.

Not fucking yet, he thinks, making a swift 'v'.

You gasp, fingers pulling so tightly against his strands that he's sure you're about to rip a few out. He hopes you fucking do.

Just as he completes the last 'e', do you shatter, crying out, legs shaking, body trembling, his fingers working rapidly inside of your tight hot walls that're squeezing against his digits.

He slips them out of you then, gripping your right hip as he smiles up at you. "You know, that is one of my favorite albums," he says standing, smirking down at you as he cups both of your cheeks in his palms. "Slippery When Wet."

He crushes his lips against yours.

When the two of you laid down for the night, Billy was naked, as per usual, and you had decided to try it out as well, knowing he'd get a kick out of it, if nothing else. Besides, if your feet got cold, you could always just stick them on his back.

He turns onto his side as you slip under the covers, sliding his hand along your bare hip. He hums in interest. "Look who decided she doesn't like sleeping with clothes on anymore either."

You reply nonchalantly. "I can always put them back on."

He wraps a leg around one of yours, pulling you to him. "You won't hear me complaining. Besides, makes for easier access this way."

You sigh. "Go to sleep, Billy." You fight against a smirk he can't see anyway, as the room is pitch black.

"That's my name, please wear it out." A beat of silence, then, "Besides, how the hell am I supposed to sleep with you pressed up against me like this all night?"

"Who pressed up against who when they got into bed?"

"Oh, you were practically asking for it." He snuggles his face against your neck.

"How?"

"By looking like that."

You suddenly regret this decision. He was never going to shut up now. "You can't see anything. Now will you please-"

"Oh, I can see it right now. All I have to do is close my eyes, doll."

"Billy-" You jerk when you feel his erection poking you in the side.

"Woops, seems someone else is up now, too. Maybe he just needs a kiss goodnight."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"Mm, which ones," he asks, hand settling between your legs.

You sigh loudly in irritation.

You can practically hear the smirk on his face when he says, "That good, huh? And I've barely even touched you yet."

You flip around so you're on your side, facing him. You clamp your hand over his mouth. "Shh, go to sleep."

He licks your hand and you pull away. "Oh, Billy, that's so gross." You say, wiping your palm against his chest.

"My face has been between your legs, making a meal out of the place you piss from, and that's what turns you off?"

You groan, pressing your forehead against his pectoral.

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "Alright, I'll lay off."

You cuddle closer.

"But I can't make any promises for him," he says, pushing his hips closer to you, erection poking against your stomach.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not bothering with replying.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n

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di-42 · 2 days

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May's Magnificent Fictions

First off let me share with you a little side note, because the brain wants what the brain wants. After an inner struggle I've finally decided to settle on using the noun "fiction" as countable when referring to works of fanfiction. I will stick to this. It has been bothering me.

And now for something completely enjoyable, let me present to you the lovely fics I've been lucky enough to read in May. I't's been a busy, at times stressful month and I haven't had the chance to read as many as I would have liked. I only made a tiny dent in my Marked for later list, which keeps growing and isn't it wonderful? I still have so much beauty, creativity and bliss to look forward to.

I'll try and tag the writers whose tumblr username I know, so they know how loved they are.

WIPs:

The first two WIPs of this list have made me realise that my new favourite trope is the "they never met" one. Or it might just be that both writers are incredibly good!

My Heart Was Always Yours by @addledmongoose

I love this fic and the author's other work so much that sometimes I worry the writer might think I'm stalking them or something! (I'm not! I promise! I only kind of start staring at my phone around 6pm on a Friday night UK time waiting for an update, that's all!). Anyway. like I was saying, in this fiction Aziraphale and Crowley never met until present day and, at the beginning of the story, neither of them knows the other is an angel or a demon. They have both been tasked by their respective head offices to retrieve Raphael's trumpet so Armageddon can start and they both want to find it and destroy it. So they embark on a journey together, thinking that the other is human. This story is so good. It has an incredibly well thought out plot, the characterisation of both, Aziraphale and Crowley are spot on, their interactions are funny and witty but also deep and very sweet. But the point that's dearest to me is that it shows the character of Aziraphale the respect it deserves, which sadly happens less often than it should. The way the writer describe the building of their relationship and their trust will fill your heart with warmth. The stoty has alternate Aziraphale and Crowley POVs and it's narrated in the first person, which will read funny at first but it will flow within the first couple of chapters and it will have been worth it!

This fiction is updated officially every Saturday but if you're very lucky and depending where you are in the world it might be Friday. Only a few more weeks to go, though, it's almost complete and I'll miss it (But I'll re-read it!) Rated M.

The Last Angel by @bellisima-writes

This is another excellent "they never met" story. In this universe, Crowley and Aziraphale were stationed on earth, Armageddon happened, and Hell won the war. All the angels have been killed, except one. This story only has the first 6 chapters out, but you can already see the wonderful job the author has done of thinking how Aziraphale and Crowley would be without having ever met each other, what would be the same and what would be different. And the same goes for other characters, too: so far we've had an insight of how Beelzebub is like in a different universe and hints at how other characters would behave as well. It is full of promise, it sets expectations that I'm hoping will be subverted and the writer is doing such an excellent job with it all. Please go and show this story some love, you won't regret it!

This fiction is updated weekly, definitely every Friday, but I understand from now on every Wednesday and Friday. Rated M.

The Escort by VinyamaDN @vinyama-23

Human AU where Crowley is an escort and Aziraphale hires him for a date. They start getting to know each other and the rest is history. This story touches very delicate subjects, but it's also funny and fluffy. Please read the tags. Rated E.

Whickber Street by Caedmon @caedmonfaith

Lovely human AU where Aziraphale has a bookshop in Whickber Street and Crowley opens a comic book shop on the same road. It's a slow burn, from one-enemy-to-lovers story, full of humour, charm and fluff. Featuring all the shopkeepers in Whickber Street, which is a treat! Update every Monday and Thursday without fail. Rated E.

Complete works:

And Now All Of My Garden Is Grown In Lavender by ilikeblue

I'm so grateful to my lovely mutual and penpal @dashuntsel for recommending this great human AU. Aziraphale is a successful queer romance author whose books are being adapted for TV. At the start of his career, his agent, Gabriel, insisted he claims to be married in order to gain more readers. Now that the spotlight is on him, Aziraphale needs someone to play the part of his husband. Did I mention that Crowley is Aziraphale's gardener and friend? I'm sure you know where this is going. This story has a little angst and lots of good vibes of trust, friendship, love and loyalty. And a happy ending! Rated E.

Lit by @fellshish

Fellshish is one of my favourite fiction writers and this piece doesn't disappoint. Making people laugh is much more difficult than making people cry and fellshish succeeds in the task so effortlessly! (They can also make you laugh while wanting to cry, but for that you'll have to read their other stories. This one is angst-free). Time-wise this story can be collocated after season 1 and is not canon compliant with season 2. Crowley enrolls in a literature course without realising it was a fantasy literature course. The book that will be read this semester is "Good Omens - The Nice And Accurate Prophecies Of Agnes Nutter, Witch". And the class will get to meet the author, Neil Gaiman. This book seems to describe only too well the event leading to the failed Armageddon, including things that only Aziraphale and Crowley would know. How is that possible? And what would happen if it fell on heavenly or hellish wrong hands? And, oh Satan, did someone say TV adaptation?? A truly amazing, funny piece that will make you feel better after a hard day at work. Rated Teen and up.

Gate Duty by Ginger_cat @gingiekittycat

Not really a crossover, but a Good Omens fiction with elements of The Good Place. You can absolutely read it and enjoy it if you haven't seen The Good Place. placed in time post season 1. Aziraphale is called back to heaven to Gate Duty and he's decided to go despite Crowley's protest. Crowley has Beelzebub assign him to Gate Duty as well, so they don't have to spend 300 years apart. So they set to out to judge the souls and decide whether to send them to the good place or the bad place, as they have rebranded heaven and hell. In the process they meet a few souls that you might or might not know, not the focus of the story. This fiction manages to be funny and incredibly angsty at the same time and it was incredible to see how some of the details in it would resonate with season 2, which wasn't out at the time the fic was written. Rated E.

Of Size And Other Matters by LCwrites

Lovely from strangers to lovers, fake relationship human AU. Aziraphale needs a date to accompany him to an event hosted by his brother, Gabriel. Crowley receives a text from a stranger, clearly by mistake, but why not having some fun? I really like the dynamics between them, the ease and the trust. A tiny bit of angsty pining but quickly and happily resolved. Rated E.

One shot:

Not Nice by Sad_chaos_goblin @sad-chaos-goblin

Great one shot that follows the wall slamming scene!What would have happened if the former nun hadn't interrupted their "Intimate moment"? This fic is a treat, sweet and hot and fluffy all at the same time. Rated E.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfiction recommendation #good omens fanfic rec #good omend fic rec #good omens fiction #good omens fic rec #thank you for my pornography #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands

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ppumeonae-bigvibe · 1 day

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midnight melodies

↖ navigation: nct masterlist || main masterlist

pairing: bf! haechan x gn! reader

↬ tags: nicknames for haechan!! (e.g. haech, my dude, boyfie, loml, cutie pie, biggest baby), very wholesome i promise, this is what missing someone feels like to me, i have been listening to piwon's late night calls ttoo much thank you muacks (>w<)

summary: he called to tell you he misses you ; you replied because you love him so

word count: 673 words

haechan: i miss you like crazy, are you up? haechan: let's chat :> i like talking to you and with you <3 haechan: i wanna hear your voice. pretty please???

he attempts to dial you, line going dead when you didn't pick up on the first ring. he glances at the bedside clock, the neon green numbers flashing a 11.28pm back at him. it wasn't that late yet.

you were probably awake...right?

a minute later, haechan's phone buzzed: an incoming call from you. his eyes widened in surprise as his hands loses all control, the phone jolting out of his grasp from the sudden vibration. reaching out to grab the fallen device, he hurriedly accepts the call.

"you're still awake??" he puts the phone on speaker next to his ear, waiting for your response. a second of static later and he hears your voice, soft and laced with sleep, "haech, you're crazy..."

"hey...i just missed you. a lot." a short string of laughter leaves his lips. he just saw you a few hours ago when you had him over yours for dinner, but he craved your presence again.

it was so interesting, the way he thinks of you so often like it was breathing to him.

another moment of silence, "...the lights in my room are off. it hurts my eyes to be texting. that's why i decided to call." you mumbled and haechan hears the sound of bedsheets rustling. your muffled yawn came through his speakers and he sheepishly laughs, "sorry, is this a bad time to call you?"

he hugs a nearby plushie you gifted him close to his chest, heart warming when you hummed, "my dude, you really texted me all that...saying you're gonna die without me or something..."

he tried and failed to hide his growing smile. he likes you too much.

"my dude?? hey treat me with some respect, i'm your boyfriend alright..." haechan doesn't have the heart to tease you too much, chuckling at your use of "my dude" romantically. you scoffed, "okay boyfie. what's keeping you up, hmm?"

the corners of his lips immediately turned upwards at the sound of his favorite nickname. he rolled over to his stomach, legs idly kicking behind him, "well...i just saw you a few hours ago but i miss you. that's literally all. can't a man miss their lover? i wanna talk to you too."

"you can...it's just...haech, i can't think...so sleepy..." you let loose another yawn and haechan rolls his eyes even though he knows you can't see him do that, "i know, i know, you sleepyhead. feels a bit weird since i wanted to hear your voice but now i'm doing all the talking and you're the one hearing mine. isn't it?" he paused.

"...h-huh..." you blearily replied, causing haechan to endearingly giggle at your tired self. "so cute...should i be kind and end the call?" he asked, certain that you were already almost reaching la-la-land. when you first had a sleepover at his place, he swoons at how you clung to his side making him all protective of you.

you made a huffing sound and he pictures you tucking the blanket higher up your body, comfortably hidden by that fluffy grey duffle he gifted you as a gag gift in summer. now that the weather is colder, haechan realizes that he's known you for quite a while.

he then recalls every single detail about you he memorized over time, the way your face contorts with humor at his antics to the moments where you allowed yourself to receive his odd ministrations of love and even when you reciprocated them with your own subtle actions.

he was in love with you as much as you were in love with him. a wave of emptiness and sentiment hit him and he whispers into the phone, "i love you."

he repeats it one more time: an affirmation, a promise, "i really love you."

haechan clapped a hand over his mouth when he discerns your snoring through the phone. in his fashion, he ended the call with a kiss (also knowing you probably didn't hear that), before curling up on his side.

he'll just have to see you again tomorrow.

@ppumeonae-bigvibe's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated !

#ppumeonae-bigvibe #nct haechan x reader #nct haechan #nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff

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theworldofotps · 2 days

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The Nights (Drabble)

Pairing: Hook x Reader Word Counter: 780 Description: He's just trying to get over the thought of you.

Loosely based off the song Stick Season _______ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist @melissahausen @new-zealand-chic @writtingrose @hotgirlgraps @madhatterbri @sjwrites22 @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @rebellious-desires @claymorexpunisher @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal @thatnerdwriter @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @alyyaana @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456 @mcreignsera @auburnwrites @aews-four-pillars If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. Hook Tag list: @wickedval ________ Another night, another cloud of smoke encircled his head as he sat on his fire escape watching the city buzzing by. His phone lit up illuminating his face as he read it hoping but knowing it wouldn’t be a text from you.

‘We’re really worried about you man nobody’s heard from you in a week least let someone know you’re okay.’ Setting the phone back on his lap Tyler took another inhale of the joint holding the smoke until his lungs burned then blew it into the dark night sky. Of course, he was okay well at least physically he was but emotionally he probably wouldn’t be the same ever again. Not after losing the most important person in his world.. “This is going to be amazing mamas I can’t wait for you to come back to New York I have so much for us planned.”

Tyler smiled as he put away the last of the laundry making sure his apartment was clean and suitable enough for you. The line remained quiet with the only sound being the tires on the road before you let a breath out. “Actually, I’ve um changed my mind.” He didn’t know this but at the time you spoke these words you passed his exit and continued driving. “I’m sorry what?” “I know it’s a shitty thing to do on the phone but I’m going up to Canada to visit a friend for a few weeks. I didn’t know how to tell you and honestly wasn’t sure how I was going to.” “Why didn’t you just say anything?’ “Because breaking up over the phone isn’t something I planned to do but I think it’s for the best. We’ve been growing apart with your traveling and my work schedule. I’m tired of not seeing you and of not having a boyfriend close by. I’m sorry this is the last thing I wanted to have happen, but I think it’s for the best.”

Thinking back over that night all these weeks later and if he was honest with himself, he knew something wasn’t right. You had been acting weird ever since the two of you started making plans for a visit, you’d trail off or switch the subject to something else.

He was still dealing with all the feelings that came from having a relationship suddenly end, he felt pain that he never experienced before not even in ring. His chest was heavy and often felt tight, he was angry that you wouldn’t even give him a chance to try and make things better or reassure you it would work out.

But he knew it wasn’t just all on you, he’d been a bit too busy with work and didn’t call you as often as he should have. He never imagined he would be at this end, sure other relationships failed but he always had faith that yours would last. And now just like that you were gone, you who was supposed to be Tyler’s future. The love of his life the person he hoped to marry someday not that he ever got the chance to ask you.

Despite the breakup being over two months ago he still felt like he did the night it happened; felt like a whole opened in his chest. It got worse because he saw your mother recently. She stopped by to pick up some of your things and told him that you were taking it hard despite everything she knew that you loved him. It helped a little but not enough to make him want to rejoin society.

He'd called a couple of times and even sent a few texts to try and see if he could change your mind but you never returned them. Tyler knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to get back to real life. Tony was trying to be understanding and give him time, they wrote him off with an injury, but he knew he needed to get back. Most days he spent smoking trying to numb the longing and loneliness he felt for you, but no matter how much he smoked he still thought about you. At night was the worst when the rest of the world was silent his mind and dreams were plagued with different versions of you. No matter what he tried he just couldn’t escape it all. Tyler knew in time he would get over you, knew that one day in the future you’ll be nothing more than just a thought in his mind. As for now? He would just have to take it a day at a time trying to get over loving you.

#aew #hook aew #hook fanfiction #hook x reader #aew hook #tyler senerchia

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kaeyas-beloved · 20 hours

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gn!reader (you/your), ballroom dancing with Wriothesley, short little fluff piece for you all :)

"You're not much of a ballroom dancer, are you?" At your gentle tease, Wriothelsey chuckles awkwardly, unable to fully admit it, especially when the murmur of other guests and the lull of music fills the lavish, silver-accented room.

"Well... I mean... Monsieur Neuvillette didn't exactly teach me before inviting me. I never had a reason to learn either," he settles on as a reply, shrugging his shoulders as he looks at you. Much like everyone else in the room, you too are dressed like nobility, your attire flattering your being in all the right ways from colour to design. For less than a second, the Duke wonders if his normal clothes weren’t as formal enough as he first thought they were.

The thought passes as Wriothesley dances in step with you, a few added flares here and there. Despite your gentle jab at his skills, he’s not a terrible dance partner, nor is he overbearing. His touch is just right and respectful, it feels like you’re on equal grounds with one another. Why were you so nervous to engage with him again?

Ah, perhaps it was because he’s so stunning to look at… yes, that sounds about right.

“Do you dance often?” The question brings you back, and this indescribable feeling overcomes you as it hits you again that you’re truly dancing with the Duke of Meropide.

“No,” you begin, gliding away only to let him gently tug you back into step with him, “but I've known how to for some time. It was a requirement as Lady Furina’s attendant. There were bound to be banquets I’d attend. Others I'd be required to dance with.”

“I see. Well, you’re an excellent dancer if I do say so myself.” The tiny smile he flashes you affects you more than you thought it would. Rougish, rough around the edges, you suppose it's because something gentle from a man who seems anything but is like seeing a magic show conducted for you and you alone. Something only a number could say they'd witnessed.

Unfortunately, all magic must end at one point and yours ends with the music coming to a crescendoing end, an arm tightening its hold as you're pulled forward and heavy pants from both you and your dance partner. The reality sets in, you're mere inches away from Wriothesley, heart beating, chest heaving, breath mingling and having just spun and twirled with him around the room and holy shit did that really happen?

The next heave of air is accompanied by a chuckle, the afterglow exhilarating and freeing. When was the last time you felt this way after a dance? Like it wasn't a necessity for your job? A very long time, you reckon, or maybe never at all.

"For a first-timer, you're not too bad yourself. Could I perhaps ask you for a second dance? Practice makes perfect, you know?" You ask, wondering if your smile (which felt too big but you didn't care) was giving away the desperation to keep him in your company for just a little longer.

You didn't think so after he said, "It would be my honour," while still adorning that handsome smile and adding what you had to chalk up as an unnecessary but mood-fitting bow at the waist and oh Archons help you, the next orchestral symphony could not begin fast enough for your liking.

Tag list: @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @ajaxstar // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @lemontum // @akiria12167 // @ari-the-wr1ter // @dontmindmebeing // @xiaos-wife // @irethepotato // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx // @leemidnightmoon // @bisexuawolfsalt

#wriothesley x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #wriothesley x you #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader

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thezombieprostitute · 1 day

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I wish you would write a fic where... nothing angsty happens! 😜

Well, lucky you I was already planning on writing something super fluffy!

Notes: Reader is gender neutral. Only physical descriptor used is that their hands are smaller than Bucky's.

Wordcount: ~600

To say you and Bucky worked stressful jobs was an understatement. Thankfully you'd worked out a self-care weekend every couple of months for the both of you. All weekend it was just the two of you doing your favorite activities (or each other) in an effort to forget all the work stress you'd accumulated.

The two of you do enjoy taking care of each other in your own ways. Bucky's always the first one to wake up so he enjoys cooking you breakfast. But you're the better barista and make up the coffee or tea. His hands are big, strong and perfect for massaging your achy muscles. Your nails are longer and better for back, chin and head scratches.

Normally you only get a few hours to dote on each other but for self-care weekends it was almost non-stop and you loved it.

Bucky had drawn up a bubble bath for you as you were finishing up baking his favorite pie for you to share. You hoped that the ice cream in the back of the freezer was still hidden away. It would make a great surprise addition to the dessert.

Before you go for your bath you make sure Bucky has a fresh cup of tea in his favorite reading spot. He always likes catching up on his reading while you soak in the tub. You kiss and thank each other as you trade places, him in the living room, you in the bathroom.

Stripping down you take a deep breath and enjoy the raspberry vanilla scent Bucky had chosen for your bath bomb. You sink into the warm, bubbly bath and let yourself relax. Part of your brain keeps trying to track the time but you're able to shut it down. This is self-care weekend. No schedules allowed! Truly no greater freedom from stress than getting to shut down the internal timer.

It's only after the water gets a little on the lukewarm side that you let yourself get out of the bathtub. Drying yourself off a little before draining the tub and putting on your softest, fluffiest robe.

Walking to the living room you smile at Bucky, fully focused on his book. As sneakily as you can you walk behind him and grab the empty mug from the table next to his reading spot. The fact that he didn't react almost made you giggle. As much as you wanted to be a bit of a troll you weren't going to startle him out of his reading.

Instead you quietly, gently, sit down next to him and start snuggling. He smiles at you and kisses your forehead before going back to his book. As much as you want attention, you're willing to wait for him to get to a good stopping point.

When he finally marks his spot with a bookmark and sets the book on the table, he asks, "have you had a good day?"

"I have," you dreamily reply. "Only one thing could make it perfect."

"Oh," his eyebrows raise as he pulls you close. "What would that be?"

"I need to squeeze you like a teddy bear."

"Need to, or want to?"

"Yes," you reply, stretching your arms out and giving him grabby hands.

He throws his head back and laughs before giving you a gentle kiss on the lips. "Okay. Here, on the couch, or in the bed?"

"Yes."

Tagging @alicedopey; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly because I promised I would.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x gn!reader

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cevansbaby-dove · 21 hours

Text

Please come back.

Pairing:DeanX Fem!Reader.

Warnings:Just a bit of sadness then hope.

Summary: After you were killed during a hunt, dean never got back to being himself. he felt lost without and you guide him to peace during a dream visit

Dean's eyes twitched as he was in a bright room it's like he was in heaven.

He then saw you in a white dress. "y/n?" he gets tears and says. "Y/n it's me! It's dean"

You looked at him with a smile. "hello dean"

he walks to you and says. "Did I just die?" You laugh softly. "no you are dreaming this...I just came to visit you, I hope your ok"

Dean reaches out and touches your soft hand. "Your alive?" You look into his emerald green eyes. "No dean, I'm not you are seeing me because I have to talk to you about something."

He sees a bench and sits down and watches you sit by him. "I have watched you for a few months now and I can see how sad you are but please know I am ok, i'm healthy, I love you to much to see you sad all the time."

Dean says. "come back with me please I will do anything to bring you back!"

"I can't come back dean, you and I both hell even sam knows I can't, my time with you guys was done. I did my job. I made you happy after so many hard times and ups and downs, I must stay here."

"No no y/n I can't live without you! what is this? I can't do this life without y/n your were my whole life and I feel like I am missing a part of it"

You stand up. "I'll never leave you dean, i'm with you next to you as you hunt, watching you and Sam and cas fight like the same way you guys did when I was there. I never ever have left you."

Dean stands up and says. "then i'll stay here" You place your hand on his shoulder.

"i'm afraid you can't do that just yet, it's not your time." He frowns. "give me signs then that I can know your with me"

"I have been, when you were looking up something for a hunt I gave you most of what you found, or when you hear my song that was me, or even if you heard my voice when I wasn't there I was giving you signs."

Dean smiles. "you never left me?" You smile and say. "As long as you need me I will be by your side" He kisses your head. "Thank you"

"Wake up my love...."

And with that you were gone. Dean woke up feeling lost and in a daze. He sees sam. "dude you were talking in your sleep"

Dean gets out of bed. "No I wasn't I was talking to-" he looks around. "nothing forget it Sammy" He walks out and goes about his day.

-------

My reason behind writing this is I have had my dog and my grandpa visit me in my dreams and they always tell me I am loved and that they don't miss me because they are healthy on the other side.

Some might call me crazy thinking my dead loved one and my dog talk to me but think what you want. I find comfort when they visit me. 🥹

tags:@angelbabyyy99 @k-slla @jackles010378 @kmc1989 @cutedisneygrl @bookishtheaterlover7

#dean winchester angst #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff

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oohnotvery · 2 days

Text

Hand To Your Heart (Chapter 2)

Okay, wow wow wow. Thank you all so much for the flood of support for this story! I now have imposter syndrome and am extremely nervous that I won’t do it justice . . . but here we go anyways.

Please enjoy this extremely long, dialogue-heavy chapter!

tagging @today-in-fic

Five Weeks Earlier

Scully

The basement office is so hot, her makeup is melting. Scully has already shed her nylons and suit jacket and wishes there were more she could remove without treating Mulder to a daytime strip show. Over at his desk, the man in question has rolled up his sleeves and yanked down his tie so it dangles askew around his neck. Even from across the room, she can see the sweat beading on his forehead.

She shifts uncomfortably and lifts her hair to fan the back of her neck, wondering when maintenance will be down to fix the broken air conditioning. Every few minutes, she glances up at the basement skylight, the brutal sun somehow scorching even at the bottom of the earth. She imagines what Mulder would think if she climbed on top of her desk to tape up the window. Since when does the temperature hit 100 degrees in May?

A trickle of sweat slides down her spine and she shudders in disgust. She’s eyeing the skylight for a fourth time when a pencil flies violently across the room, striking one of the filing cabinets. She jumps, turning to glare at Mulder.

He rises to standing and wipes grouchily at his sweaty brow.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says with a tilt of his head towards the door.

“Where?” she asks with a half-laugh. It’s not even one o’clock. They never cut out this early, not unless they have a flight to catch or monsters to chase.

“To a restaurant, back to our apartments, a movie theater, literally anywhere that has functioning AC,” he says irritably.

She hesitates for just a beat before peeling herself off her chair and grabbing her bag. A triumphant smile flickers across Mulder’s face and she rolls her eyes good-naturedly as she brushes by him towards the door. Over the years, they’ve reached an unspoken agreement about not using the elevator when they’re trying to sneak out of the building unnoticed. The onset of heatstroke has her feeling particularly grouchy about the possibility of seeing other human beings today, so she heads towards the perpetually vacant stair well, Mulder on her heels.

She swings open the door and startles backwards into Mulder’s chest when she sees a man trotting down the stairs towards them. Mulder pushes in front of her to assess the hold-up.

“Hey, Mulder,” comes a familiar voice. As Scully sidesteps her partner, Special Agent Mike Stephens comes into view. His eyes flit to hers and a wide smile rises to his lips.

“Dana,” he says eagerly, stepping forward as if he’s about to hug her. Her spine stiffens reflexively and Mike takes a step back.

“Agent Stephens,” she says with a polite smile.

“You cutting out early, Mike?” Mulder asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Agent Stephens laughs easily and shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment, actually. You two headed out on a case?”

Mulder’s eyes catch hers and they nod in unison. “Yep. Just got the call.”

Placing a palm to her lower back, Mulder starts to usher them down the stairs towards the parking garage, but Mike catches her wrist and she jolts to a halt.

His eyes flicker quickly to Mulder’s before landing on her face. “You’ll call me?” he says. “About . . . the thing?”

Instinctively, her eyes flit to Mulder, who is watching her with an inscrutable expression.

With flaming cheeks, she shakes her head. “You’ll have to excuse us, Agent Stephens,” she says brusquely, catching Mulder’s arm and tugging him down the stairs with her. She barely registers the flash of disappointment on Mike’s face.

In the parking garage, she and Mulder argue briefly over their next move—she’s envisioning a cool, dark movie theater; he wants food and a cold drink. When he finally suggests a place near the river that serves salads and margaritas alongside his mainstays of hamburgers and French fries, she concedes.

She’s nearly finished with her first margarita by the time she finally starts to cool down. They’re seated at an indoor/outdoor patio and the breeze off the river, combined with the AC pumping inside the restaurant, feels like heaven on her hot cheeks.

Scanning the river for boaters, she swipes at Mulder’s basket of fries for the fifth time and ignores his warning look.

“Stop ordering salads if you’re just going to eat my food,” he grumbles, reaching over to toss a crouton in her face.

She wrinkles her nose, munching happily around his fry. “Calories don’t count when it’s not your food,” she preaches.

He rolls his eyes and stabs a finger at her salad. “You dug your own grave, Dana Scully, now lie in it.”

The little sister in her wants to stick her tongue out, but she resists the urge, settling instead for a dark glare and a petulant stab at her lettuce.

“So,” Mulder says after a time, leaning back and stretching his arm over the back of his chair, “what thing did Mike want you to call him about?”

She crinkles her nose and squints up at the sun like she isn’t sure what he’s talking about. “Agent Stephens?” she asks casually.

Mulder’s lips twitch at her uneasy deflection and her stomach twists. He’s a profiler, for God’s sake. She can’t hide anything from him.

“Give it up, Scully,” he prods, a wicked gleam rising in his eyes. “There’s a dirty little secret between you and Mike Stephens, and I’m going to get it out of you.”

Her eyebrows rise in challenge. “Is that so? What are you, some kind of FBI agent?”

He scowls. “Har, har. Have your fun now, because in five minutes, I guarantee you’ll be sharing all your mysteries with me.”

She pretends to consider this, swirling a finger in her drink. “And what kind of interrogation techniques should I expect from you, Agent . . . ?” she asks teasingly, smiling to herself.

But she should know by now that he gives as good as he gets. Mulder leans forward, a wolfish grin rising to his pouty lips. “You know, Scully, if you wanted me to tie you up and flog you ‘til you’re begging for mercy, you could always just ask.” He winks and she flushes ten shades of red.

Needing a distraction, she again reaches for his fries, but he slaps her hand away. Indignant, her mouth falls open.

“No, no, no,” he taunts with a wagging finger, “no fries for you until you spill.”

She groans. “Oh, come on, Mulder, it’s nothing.”

“The fact that you refuse to tell me means it’s not nothing.”

“It’s nothing,” she doubles down, praying to God that Mulder doesn’t actually try to wrestle this out of her. She can feel her cheeks darkening just imagining what he’ll think if he finds out what Mike wants.

There’s a short pause where Mulder takes a long swig of his margarita, then he leans across the table and fixes her with attentive eyes. He pops the drink’s swizzle stick into his mouth and swirls it around with his tongue, and her flush deepens. Goddammit, that tongue.

His eyes widen gleefully. “Dana Katherine Scully,” he says incredulously, “are you actually blushing?”

Her eyes narrow. “Drop it,” she warns.

He leans even closer, chewing temptingly on the stick. “Come on,” he says, seeming to consider something. “If you tell me what Mike wants from you, I’ll do all our requisition paperwork for the next month.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Backing down from your hardball interrogation scheme so quickly, Agent Mulder?” she taunts.

He smiles deviously. “I’ve got handcuffs in the back of my car with your name on them, Agent Scully.”

She rolls her eyes. “Technically, Mulder, since you’re the one in charge of requisitioning our vehicles, you should always be doing that paperwork—”

“And I’ll do the expense reports,” he adds with a smirk.

Now that is tempting. She spends hours of her time filling out their damned expense reports, trying to make excuses for the ridiculous things Mulder tries to get the government to cover. But is it tempting enough to risk the humiliation that will surely follow her disclosure?

Clearing her throat, she fixes him with a no-nonsense stare. “You cannot tell anyone.”

He scoffs. “Who the hell would I tell? The fish?”

She licks her lips and leans closer, their fingertips touching across the table. “Please just—please keep this private.”

He nods solemnly, and she knows he will.

Shifting nervously, she drums her fingers against the table. “Do you remember when Agent Stephens and I worked that emergency call a few days ago with the drug enforcement team? The night Skinner made you fly to Huntsville for that hearing?”

Another nod.

“We—well, the team went out to breakfast the next morning. We’d been up all night, and we were able to successfully subdue the perpetrators—”

Mulder makes an impatient gesture with his hands. “Yeah, yeah. Get to the juicy stuff already.”

She glares at him. “Well, at breakfast, Agent Stephens was friendly with me.”

She can tell Mulder is fighting back a smile and it irks her. “Go on,” he says.

“He, uh, he showed me a lot of . . . attention.”

“That’s it, Scully,” he says, rubbing his palms together eagerly. “Now we’re getting to the good stuff.” She kicks his shin under the table and he shoots her a wounded look.

“Anyways,” she continues primly, “it wasn’t necessarily unwelcome attention. He’s attractive and smart, and we worked well together that night.”

There’s a minute change in Mulder’s expression, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of moment, but still he nods. “All fair points.”

She studies her partner quietly, trying to break through the now-neutral expression on his face. What is he thinking? What will he think? She drops her gaze to her drink.

“And that’s all, really,” she says with a shrug.

Mulder’s finger comes into her vision when he taps at her wrist. “That’s not all, Scully,” he says. “What did he want? Please tell me it was something freaky or extremely embarrassing.” When she doesn’t respond, he huffs. “Hell, just tell me, Scully. You know my mind is already beginning to conjure far more indecent scenarios than what’s actually going on.”

“Your mind is a shocking place,” she murmurs, deflecting.

“Tell me.”

She lifts her eyes to his and is surprised to find genuine curiosity reflected at her. He isn’t just looking for an entertaining story. He wants to know about her life.

She hesitates briefly, then shakes her head in defeat. “Agent Stephens asked if I wanted to have a relationship with him.”

He chuckles and flexes his fingers. “He asked you to go steady? Wow, you really worked me up for nothing, Scully, damn.”

She bites her lip. “No, he didn’t want to date me,” she corrects. “He asked if I’d be amenable to a . . . casual relationship.”

Mulder cocks his head in confusion.

She huffs aggravatedly. “Sex,” she adds, refusing to drop her gaze even as her cheeks burn. “He asked if I’d be interested in having casual, no-strings-attached sex with him on a regular basis.”

Mulder’s mouth drops open and the swizzle stick falls from his lips. She rolls her eyes heavily and takes a long swig of her drink.

“See, Mulder?” she says, stabbing a finger at his gaping mouth. “You’re already acting like a teenage boy.”

“He wanted to be friends with benefits, Scully?” Mulder’s eyebrows rise. “Go, Mike Stephens, go.”

“Really, Mulder?”

He waggles his eyebrows mischievously. “I dunno, that sounds pretty hot.”

“Well, I told him I’d think about it,” she replies archly, even though it’s not entirely true.

His eyes narrow. “You didn’t tell him no?”

“That’s what he was trying to ask me on the stairs—whether or not I wanted to pursue that type of relationship with him.”

Mulder studies her for a long minute, then reclines back in his chair, nodding thoughtfully. She waits for him to ask more questions, or perhaps tease her, but he simply fades into silence. Their waiter returns and they each order another drink. When their second round appears, Mulder downs half of his beer in one long gulp, then reaches out to tap at her wrist.

“Is that something you’d consider?” he asks.

She tilts her head, debating whether to continue picking at her wilting lettuce. “Hmm?”

“Being friends with benefits?”

Her eyes snap up to his. “Not with him,” she says dismissively, because it’s really no question. “I barely know him. We aren’t even friends, technically.”

“But if there was a friend?” Mulder asks, drumming his fingers lightly against her skin.

She shrugs. “Possibly? I haven’t thought about it much. It’s not unappealing, I suppose. I could see how it might be nice if one didn’t want to be in a committed relationship.” She takes a sip of her drink and winces at its sourness. This one is definitely stronger than the last round.

“It’s hard to date in our profession,” Mulder observes.

She nods, skimming the rim of her drink with a finger to collect the salt. “It can be.”

“It’s lonely.”

“Hmm?” she asks distractedly, sucking salt off her thumb. “Yeah, that’s what Agent Stephens said too.”

“Oh, did he,” Mulder remarks.

She slides her finger along the rim of her glass for another lick of salt but Mulder bats her hand away. Affronted, she glares at him.

“Stop doing that,” he mutters, “it’s distracting.”

She narrows her eyes. “Distracting from what? We’re not exactly having a serious conversation here, Mulder.”

He rankles. “It is serious, though. You’re debating getting your jollies off with Mike Stephens, a person you hardly know.”

Her eyebrows rise. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ve made it quite clear that I will not accept his offer.”

“You won’t because it’s Mike Stephens making the offer?” he clarifies, his eyes darting between hers. “Because you don’t know him well, right? Or trust him.” He hesitates. “But you do acknowledge that our jobs are stressful and isolating, and you aren’t opposed to the idea of such an arrangement.”

She sucks in a breath and blows it out steadily. “I—I don’t know? Mulder, do you want me to call him right now and get it over with already?”

He grins, showing his teeth. “I can’t say it wouldn’t be fun to bear witness to his crushing disappointment upon learning that he won’t be getting the Agent Scully in his bed.”

She reaches across the table and flings a fry in his face.

Mulder ducks, then leans back in his chair and crosses his arms behind his head. She’s gazing out towards the river, debating whether or not she should order a third drink, when his voice breaks her concentration.

“We could do it.”

It’s so casual, she almost misses it.

“What?” she asks, her eyes turning back to his.

He gestures between them. “You and me. Friends with benefits.”

This time, it’s her jaw that drops. He leans forward again, all his earlier jesting gone, replaced now with a restless energy that makes her squirm in her seat.

“Oh, come on, Scully. Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind.”

Her eyebrows fly to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t act like some pearl-clutching virgin. I’m a good-looking guy, you’re a good-looking gal. You’ve acknowledged that our jobs don’t allow us to date, not in any meaningful way. Neither of us is having regular sex—”

“Mulder,” she hisses.

He ignores her. “Plus, you know me better than Mike Stephens, and you considered doing it with him.”

“I did not consider doing it with him,” she snaps.

His eyes fix her in place. “You said it could be a possibility.”

She gapes, then slowly shakes her head. “Mulder, this is so far beyond the bounds of professionalism—”

He slams his fist onto the table and she jumps, her margarita spilling out over the sides. “Professionalism, Scully? Really? You’re going to fly that flag right now?” He shakes his head, scowling. She finds herself extremely confused by his sudden irritability.

“Are you messing with me, Mulder?” she asks carefully, taking a napkin to the sides of her drink.

He is quiet for a long minute, his eyes fixated on her clean-up efforts. She’s about to ask him again when he finally looks up at her.

“I’m dead serious, Scully,” he says. “If you wanted to try an arrangement like that, do it with me, not with Mike Stephens. At least I’m someone you actually know, and presumably like.”

“But it wasn’t ever my idea—”

“Is it a bad idea?” he counters.

She sputters out a disbelieving laugh. “It’s a—it’s the worst idea—”

“Mike Stephens is the worst idea—”

“Stop making this about Agent Stephens, Mulder!” she shouts, and Mulder’s face falls. She gives him a long, hard look. “Just—just give me a moment to think.”

He nods and her mind instantly flashes to a hundred different images, things she’s fantasized about for years but has never allowed herself to imagine as real possibilities. His strong, masculine hands sliding across her bare skin, his lips dragging wetly down her neck, his toned, lean abdomen rippling as he picks her up and throws her onto the bed. She sees herself lying before him, pale and naked and flushed, as he presses kisses from her forehead to her toes. She imagines clutching his tanned, muscular forearms as she comes with his fingers inside her—

“Are you picturing me naked, Scully?” Mulder asks coyly, and she curses under her breath as a flush races down her neck and chest.

“No,” she mutters angrily, but his eyes are gleaming and she knows she’s lost this battle. He sees right through her; he always has. As tempting as this arrangement is, his ability to read her like a book is what makes it so dangerous. What happens when he figures out she’s in love with him? What happens when sex stops being gratifying for her, and she decides she needs more from him?

“This could break us, Mulder,” she says weakly as his eyes rake over her own body. God, is he picturing her naked? “Before we get impulsive, we should pause to consider how this could compromise our working relationship.”

“Is it really that impulsive?”

She blinks, stupefied. “Given that this is the first time we’ve ever thought about it—”

“I’ve thought about it dozens of times,” he breathes, fixing her with a hungry look. “Hell, hundreds of times, probably.”

She swallows. “You’ve thought about . . . us?”

“You’re gorgeous, Scully,” he says, his eyes turning briefly warm. “I may be a madman, but I’m not so cracked that I haven’t noticed how beautiful you are.”

She shuts her eyes and her brain immediately bombards her with an image—Mulder in a shitty, dirty, nameless motel room, his fist wrapped tightly around his cock, his eyes closed in ecstasy as he comes with her name on his lips.

“And it’s just sex,” he says, breaking her concentration. Her eyes flutter open. “It’s just body parts moving around. I’m not asking you to marry me or even date me.” He flashes a wide grin. “I’m not that crazy.”

“Yes, you are,” she mumbles under her breath, lifting her drink and finding that her hands are trembling.

Mulder seems to notice too because he reaches forward and catches her wrist, setting her drink down before pulling her hand into his.

“Try it with me, Scully,” he murmurs enticingly, his eyes slightly feral. “See if we like it.”

“I haven’t said yes—”

“But you’re thinking about it,” he says, his fingertip sliding up her arm, drawing goosebumps in its path.

“No, I’m not,” she lies.

He smiles knowingly. “Your body says otherwise.”

Her eyes flutter up to his as warmth begins to pool treacherously in her core. This cannot be happening. Fox Mulder cannot seriously be asking her to sleep with him. It’s too—it’s too—

“Scully?” he prods gently, and behind the hunger in his gaze, she sees affection. Warmth. Tenderness.

Jesus Christ. He really does want this.

When she speaks, her voice is shaky, but firm.

“We might hurt each other,” she whispers, her final protest.

He frowns, squeezing her fingers. “Never, Scully. I would never hurt you.”

“You can’t promise—” She swallows. Her veins pound with arousal, excitement. Adrenaline starts to shut down the rational side of her brain.

“Okay,” she finally says, looking down at their joined hands.

His lips curl into a satisfied smile and he pushes his basket of fries towards her. “Good girl. Now eat your fries.”

#mulder x scully #x files #dana scully #the x files #txf #x files fanfic #msr fanfic #fox mulder #msr #xfiles fanfic #fox mulder my beloved #enjoy your fries Scully

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henrysfox · 16 hours

Note

ooo i'd love to hear more about the casting day announcement from your pov if that's ok! like how did people react? did you think they looked the part but wasn't keen on their past acting work? did everyone freak out lmao

HELLO!!! i love talking about it!! let's gooo

so the day of the casting announcement for me was also the day i found out they were making rwrb into a movie, idk how it was for other people, but before that day i hadn't realized we would get a movie

so i was just SO HYPED about getting a film at all, you know?

then we got this announcement:

and i looked at them and IMMEDIATELY went to taylor's instagram and i was like "is that the dude from the kissing booth?" (i have never seen the kissing booth before that, but i have seen people on youtube doing some of those commentaries where they make fun of every single movie under the sun for views - the person i was friends with at the time loved watching those, so i have seen a few)

and i IMMEDIATELY became obsessed with him because i thought he was the most beautiful man i've ever seen. height aside, he was pretty much what i imagined alex to look like. back then, i'm pretty sure he hasn't been in many things so i watched tkb2 & 3 for him (or mostly his and joey's scenes because i didn't like jac*b el*rdi) and i watched minx, where he was AMAZING.

meanwhile nick creeped up on me much slower - but he did have many more movies out so i also watched all of those. at the begining he hadn't been dyed blonde yet so it was a bit harder to imagine him as henry, but the second they made him blonde i thought he was spot on as well. the filming was in progress around the same time purple hearts came out so i waited for the premiere with him and the rest of the cast, because they were all SO excited for nick - they even had a watch party and they all watched it together when it came out, and on the day of the premiere they decorated nick's trailer with tiny handmade purple hearts which was super sweet and he was adorably blushy about it.

okay back to the casting announcement day.

we got the announcement and immediately EVERYONE was negative. and i'm not exaggerating. everyone said they looked nothing like the characters, they said taylor is too pretty to play alex, that neither of the boys deserves to play these characters bc they're both straight and "sTrAiGhT acToRs sHoULdn'T pLAy quEEr cHaRaCteRs." it was just CONSTANT negativity. if someone was excited they were made fun of. people would go into nick and taylor's comments on insta and say pretty bad things.

the fandom for the movie on tumblr was nonexistant tbh. there were a few people who were fans of the book and were very vocal about how awful the movie will be with those awful actors. see, people had fancasts for alex and henry and they weren't willing to let those go. even if the guy they had in mind for alex wasn't even mexican and the guy they had in mind for henry wasn't even an actor.

i was still patiently waiting for any news to come out and for tumblr to get on with the program. at the same time first updates accounts on the movie, firstprince and nick & tay started appearing on instagram so i was mostly there, having thought that tumblr will just hate this film forever. i reread the book then and having many feelings about it i went into the tumblr tag again - there wasn't much change, but there were a few people who seemed to be just as excited as i was and i would have blocked all the negative people back then.

one of the people i saw being excited about the movie and the boys was @sincenewyorks so after some time and after gathering some courage i messaged them and we talked. there were also a few other people who were being positive by then, but all in all the fandom was pretty small and people still negative especially when they found out that june and rafael luna won't be in the movie - that brought a whole new wave of hate. some hardcore book fans have already decided the film would be awful.

i was just happy to follow the boys and the rest of the cast through the filming process, a little bit here, but mostly on instagram and in private messages with like-minded people here.

fun fact: the nick and taylor tags on tumblr were practically empty by then - taylor's had a few gifs of his naked scenes from minx and a few gifs from the kissing booth. nick's tag was almost completely empty.

flash forward to the day we got the trailer. this is the day EVERYTHING changed, because the trailer came out and suddenly? all the haters went silent. (take into account the fact that i had blocked some of them already so that might also be why lol) and the movie started reaching more and more people. overnight there were a lot of gifs from the trailer and people started posting about the movie more.

in the following weeks, more and more people were talking about the movie and nick and taylor and the bad comments were mostly kept to minimum. we could all see how excited taylor and nick, but especially taylor were about the film.

the the strikes started and we were all heartbroken that the movie wouldn't get the premiere it deserved and secretly hoping the strikes would be done by the time the movie was supposed to come out, but that didn't happen, unfortunately.

then the movie came out and some people really loved it, some others said it was disappointing, there were a few really weird takes, but mostly people REALLY loved it. the fandom has already grown bigger at that point and there were many more people willing to freak out and talk about it. then people started watching nick's and taylor's previous movies as well and their tags filled out and the rest is history, i guess.

sorry that it got SO LONG omg. some people were annoying about the casting announcement, and there was a lot of negativity at first but to be honest? i still had so much fun and the whole experience will always remain in my heart as a positive one <3

if you have any other questions, please do ask me, i can always talk about it more, i love trips down the memory lane lol

#i'm so glad i still have all my screenshots from when they were filming #complete with nick and tay's follower counts before and after the trailer/before and after the casting announcement etc #it was a wild ride #red white and royal blue #rwrb #my ramblings #nicholas galitzine #taylor zakhar perez

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defectivevillain · 2 days

Text

shivering in the absence

pairing: Dylan Lenivy/Reader

The reader is implied to be transmasculine/nonbinary & has undergone top surgery. Otherwise, no pronouns or physical descriptors are used; race is ambiguous.

summary: “Were you really going to take your shirt off?” Dylan asks, averting his eyes. You get to your feet and take a sip of your water, pretending not to feel flustered by the question. “Did you want me to?” You counter, sounding much more composed than you actually are.

word count: 3.2k | ao3 version

author's notes: So I was watching Friday the 13th and came up with this… then I realized the character I wrote it for was pretty much unimportant… and so this happened. (Hence the Friday the 13th tag) …No horror elements are in this, though!

warnings: stripping/changing clothes, implied hypothermia

“I hate Monopoly,” Abi sighs.

You nod in sympathy. Abi, Dylan, Emma, and you are all cooped up in Dylan’s cabin for the night. It’s one of the last days that the counselors will remain at Hackett’s Quarry, before you all leave for the summer. The four of you had planned on meeting up before rejoining the rest of the counselors at the fire pit outside, but the unexpected rainstorm that came curbed those plans—leaving you somewhat stranded in Dylan’s cabin.

“Well, you’ve never played strip Monopoly, have you?” Emma grins, breaking you out of your thoughts. Abi, Dylan, and you exchange looks. Emma notices and sighs. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Besides, it’s terrible outside.” You follow her gaze to the open window across the room. Indeed, there’s a steady rain coming down now. There were a few thunderbolts, but nothing too serious. Unfortunately, returning to your own cabin would mean getting your clothes soggy and drenched. Safe to say, you’re stuck here—and stuck playing strip Monopoly to pass the time.

“Fine,” you acquiesce. Dylan and Abi follow your lead and surrender too. Emma really is too stubborn for her own good—there’s no way you’d be able to get out of this one. There are just some battles you can’t win, and strip Monopoly isn’t that laborious of a task. It’ll be more embarrassing than anything else. “How do we play, though?” You ask.

“We strip,” Abi responds with a deadpan voice. Dylan chokes on a laugh and Emma smiles.

“I got that much,” you huff defensively. “I mean, when? And why?”

“Clothing is currency, pretty much,” Emma explains. “The simple stuff—socks, shoes—are worth less. Underwear is worth the most… You get the idea.” You feel yourself frown and, when you look around the table, Abi and Dylan are wearing similar expressions of apprehension. Emma looks at you three and rolls her eyes. “If you don’t want to take your underwear off, then just play well. Duh.”

“Easier said than done,” Abi mutters. The remark goes unheard by Emma; you exchange an amused smile with Abi and she seems to relax a little. The four of you decide to make Dylan the banker; then, each of you choose your pieces and roll to see who goes first. You end up rolling the highest. Your first turn lands you on Oriental Avenue—one of the properties towards the middle of that first stretch of the board.

“So… if I want to buy it…?” You trail off, looking to Emma for help. She glances over at the property and hums.

“It’s $100,” she says, “so it’s worth two shoes.”

“This is weird,” you feel the need to announce, after taking your shoes off and throwing them onto the ground next to you with an exaggerated movement. Dylan hands you the Oriental Avenue property card with an amused smirk.

“No one’s going to land on that.” Dylan remarks. You raise a brow and hand him the dice. He’s conveniently located a few spaces away from the property, ironically; if he rolls a six, he’ll land on it. Dylan rolls the dice and the dice skitters across the board, before landing to reveal a six.

“I think you owe me a shoe,” you grin. Dylan pulls his shoe off and places it onto your open palm with a flourish. Within moments, you recoil and drop it onto the ground. “Why is there so much mud, what the fuck-?” You choke out, glancing down at the offending sneaker. Sure enough, there’s a solid layer of dirt on the sole. With the way Dylan handed it to you, you hadn’t seen the mud until it was too late. You get to your feet and head to the sink to wash your muddied hand. Abi and Emma are laughing hysterically, and Dylan joins them—wiping hysterical tears out of his eyes. You rejoin the table with an exaggerated groan. “I don’t think I want to play anymore.” You mutter.

“Oh come on, that’s just the game,” Emma chastises you, taking the dice and rolling. She rolls a three and moves the Scottie Dog piece three spaces. She decides to buy the property and gives up a shoe; soon, it’s Abi’s turn and the game continues.

After several rounds, you’re relieved to find that no one has needed to take off anything too revealing. Dylan’s shirtless; Emma doesn’t have socks or shoes; you don’t have shoes; and Abi is still wearing all of her clothing. When you reach your fourth or fifth turn, you land on North Carolina Avenue: a green property that costs $300. When you do the math in your head, you realize you’d need to give up two socks—not really a big deal—and your shirt—a much bigger deal. You stare at the property for several moments, contemplating whether you should take the risk.

“We don’t have all night,” Abi remarks helpfully, breaking you away from your thoughts. You stare at her with a faux expression of irritation and she just shrugs.

“I mean, she’s right,” Emma pipes up. “Just buy it already. Unless, that is, you’re scared… ”

It’s such an obvious trap. But you fall for it anyway. “I’m not scared,” you argue. And maybe, a small part of you is ultra-aware of your company right now—of a certain counselor sitting next to you, who you don’t want to look foolish in front of.

“Then buy it,” Emma dares you.

Fuck, she’s got you now. You walked yourself right into that one, didn’t you? “......Fine.” You say. Taking off your socks is a relatively quick and painless affair. Unfortunately, that leaves you an infinitely more difficult one: taking off your shirt. You’re not necessarily insecure or unhappy with your body; you’re just not the type of person to constantly flaunt it or reveal a ton of skin. You’ve certainly had moments where you’ve felt confident enough to do so—but now, in the far too bright light of the cabin, surrounded by friends (and someone who you have feelings for), you feel extremely hesitant.

“Well?” Emma demands. Abi elbows her in the side harshly and she promptly presses her lips shut, albeit with an outraged hiss at the temporary pain that the action caused. Abi and Emma aren’t really the ones you’re worried about… The two of them are rather hopelessly infatuated with one another, even if they don’t recognize it just yet. No, the problem happens to be sitting right next to you: staring at you with a surprisingly intent gaze.

Feeling as if you’ve been shoved under your microscope, you take a deep breath and reach for the hem of your shirt. Dylan’s shirtless too, you remind yourself. It’s not like you’ll be completely alone in your discomfort. And you’re not ashamed of your chest—you’re proud of how far you’ve come. You’ve felt more at home in your body these past few months than you’ve ever felt. It’ll be okay, you reassure yourself.

You’re about halfway through the motion, your shirt moving up along your ribs, when Emma’s phone pings. Everyone freezes, including you. Emma sighs dramatically and picks up her phone, eyes widening when she evidently stares down at the notification. When she notices that you’re all staring at her expectantly, she elaborates. “It’s Jacob,” she remarks, grabbing her socks and shoes and beginning to put them on. “Gotta go, guys. We’ll pick this up some other night.” She promises, tying her shoes before tugging her hood over her head and retreating.

Abi stares at the doorway with a frown on her face, evidently not happy with the new development. You look over at Dylan, only to catch him as he looks up from where you’re pulling up your shirt. You then realize that you’re still awkwardly frozen with it halfway off. You quickly drop your hand and pretend that nothing happened.

“I should probably go too,” Abi announces, placing her hands on the table and standing up. She’s looking at Dylan and you; it appears as if she’s going to say something else, but she seems lost for words. “I… left an excuse outside.” She immediately grimaces. You laugh and tell her it’s fine; she loosens up and leaves you both with a quick goodbye.

Now it’s just Dylan and you sitting at the table, staring down at the abandoned Monopoly game. For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence. Then, just as you’re about to break it by forcing yourself to say something, Dylan speaks.

“Were you really going to take your shirt off?” He asks, averting his eyes. You get to your feet and take a sip of your water, pretending not to feel flustered by the question.

“Did you want me to?” You counter, sounding much more composed than you actually are.

“Maybe,” he says, a lopsided grin rising on his face.

“Hm,” you say calmly, pretending to think about it. And if you are actually thinking about Dylan and you alone in this cabin, with no one else… then only you have to know. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You respond cheekily, putting your socks on and slipping your shoes on—tying them with slightly shaking hands. You’re jittery all of a sudden.

“Hey, where are you going?” Dylan asks, squinting at you.

“To the bathroom…?” You remark. Unfortunately, as nice as the cabins at Hackett’s Quarry are, they don’t have bathrooms in them. The camp is still stuck in the twentieth century in that regard—as there’s a cabin with all the bathrooms located a short walk from the counselors’ cabins. You refocus on what Dylan just asked you. “Do I need a hall pass?” You ask snarkily, with no real heat behind the remark.

Dylan just rolls his eyes. You roll your eyes in return and leave the cabin, closing the door behind you. The rain is coming down hard now. It’s a relatively short walk to the bathroom, though—so you don’t bother to head back in for a raincoat or umbrella. The flashlight you snagged from Dylan’s living room is a godsend—as it illuminates the beaten path leading to the restrooms.

Thankfully, the walk to the restroom is quick and relatively painless—save for how soggy your clothing is becoming. After you use the bathroom and wash your hands, you stand under the awning at the entrance and turn on the flashlight. You flick the switch a few times, but it doesn’t turn on. You groan and head out into the rain, putting a hand to your temple to prevent the water from getting into your eyes. You trust your muscle memory to take you back to your cabin.

…Unfortunately, in the dead of night and amidst the brutal downpour, your muscle memory is worth jack shit. You get lost rather quickly, and soon you’re stumbling through thicketed trees with an increasing feeling of fear and dread coiling in your chest. You don’t want to spend all night roaming the forest. You’re somehow away from all the counselor cabins now. You try the flashlight one more time, even hitting it a few times, but it still doesn’t work. Groaning, you take a deep breath and try to retrace your steps.

By some miracle, you manage to make your way back to the restrooms and you head off in a different direction. A few minutes pass and relief courses through you as you spot the lights of Dylan’s cabin. You’re quick to run over and stand under the awning, before knocking on the door with an unnecessary amount of force. Dylan opens the door within moments, an annoyed expression on his face.

“What took you so long-?” He asks, breaking off as he looks at you. Dylan’s gaze wanders up and down your form, evidently taking in your drenched clothing. You’re sure you look like some sort of wet cat—soaked and unhappy. “Should’ve worn a raincoat.” He clicks his tongue, stepping aside to let you in.

You groan in frustration, moving past him and sitting on one of the chairs at the table. You’d love nothing more than to lay on the couch, but you don’t want to ruin the upholstery. “I know, I know,” you seethe. You have no one to blame for this but yourself. And maybe the flashlight—if the stupid thing had a better battery, you would’ve made it back much faster. But instead, you were left to stumble around the campground for twenty minutes.

Dylan rounds the table and stares at you, an uncharacteristic expression of concern on his face. You feel a shiver roll down your spine. “You’re freezing,” he states, looking at your wet clothes. “You’re going to get sick.”

You sigh in exasperation. “I’ll be fine,” you assert. The universe then decides to spite you, as you’re forced to sneeze. Dylan stares at you knowingly. You stare back unflinchingly.

Eventually, he sighs. “You’re not fooling anyone,” he continues, gesturing to your forearms. “You have goosebumps.” You continue to stare at him stubbornly. Sensing that you won’t give in, he sighs. “Fine,” he announces. Rather than retreating to the couch as expected, Dylan leans forward and picks up your Monopoly piece. Dylan taps your Monopoly piece on a space, then another, then another—before finally letting it go. “Oops. Looks like you landed on Park Place… And what do you know? It’s my property. I think you owe me… all of your wet clothes.”

You resist the urge to groan, immediately understanding what he’s trying to do. “I see how it is.” You sigh.

“You need to change,” he maintains with uncharacteristic sincerity.

“Desperate to get me out of my clothes, huh?” You deflect. The effort doesn’t work, and he looks entirely unimpressed. You rack your brain for another excuse. “I don’t have a spare set of clothes—my stuff is in my cabin.”

Dylan holds up a finger, gesturing for you to wait, before leaving the room and heading for his bedroom. When he returns, he’s holding a long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. He places them on the table and stares at you expectantly.

“Fine, fine,” you acquiesce. Admittedly, now that he mentions it, you realize that you’re freezing —so much so that your teeth are chattering. You push yourself up from the chair and to a standing position clumsily, before fumbling for the button of your jeans and taking them off. Dylan kindly averts his eyes, looking endearingly awkward as he shifts his balance from side to side. You pull the sweatpants on and very nearly sigh in relief. You hadn’t realized how uncomfortable wet denim was until you removed it.

Next is your shirt. You take a deep breath and manifest some confidence, before reaching down to the hem of your shirt. But your hands are shaking and trembling—so much so that you’re struggling to simply pull your shirt off. Your struggle must take longer than expected, because soon Dylan glances at you and frowns.

“Here-” Dylan says, swiftly breaking the distance between you and grabbing the hem for you. Before you can protest, he’s gently pulling it up. And while you recognize that he’s trying to remove your shirt without touching you, his efforts aren’t really working. His fingertips brush against your ribs and your heart starts to race. Dylan mutters an apology and pulls your shirt off of you faster. Shirtless in front of him, you feel yourself instinctively taking a half-step backwards, only to nearly crash into the back of the couch. You stick a hand out to brace yourself and try to regain your composure. Moments later, Dylan is pushing the shirt he grabbed for you into your hands.

While you want nothing more than to tug it over your head rapidly and forget about this whole situation, your body doesn’t want to obey. You’re still shaking ever so slightly—and your uncharacteristic sluggishness is making this task seem nearly impossible. Before you can attempt some strange contortion to get the shirt over your head, Dylan’s helping you. In the blink of an eye, the grey shirt is tugged over you. The fabric is soft and, most importantly, dry.

“Better?” Dylan murmurs, still standing far too close for comfort.

“...Yeah,” you say, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Dylan answers easily, finally taking a step backwards and giving you some more space. You immediately miss the warmth that was practically emanating off of him. Silence settles in the air, thick and strangely uncomfortable. Everything unspoken lingers between the two of you.

“Well, I guess I should go…” You eventually mutter.

“Are you crazy?” Dylan blinks at you in disbelief. ��You’re just going to get drenched again.” Your traitorous mind wants to attribute his insistence to something more than just friendly concern; you’re quick to push those thoughts away, though.

It seems like Dylan is expecting another argument, because his eyes widen in momentary surprise as he realizes you’re remaining silent. Truthfully, you want nothing more than to put up a fight, but you feel as if the energy has been completely drained out of you. And despite the fact that you changed into fresh, dry clothing, you’re still cold.

Dylan notices that you’re still shivering slightly and frowns, before evidently coming to a decision. “Here, come on,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder and guiding you towards his bedroom. You’re so dazed that you don’t really grasp the implications until you’re standing before his mattress. You immediately glance back at him in confusion, only for him to gently push you towards his bed. You’re too exhausted to overthink everything that’s going on.

Dylan helps you settle in and tugs the comforter over you. Even despite the added layers, you’re still a bit chilly. You burrow into the blankets and try to find a comfortable position, before settling for reclining on your back and staring up at the ceiling. Sleep is dragging your eyelids down and you blink furiously, your eyes dry and stinging. You see Dylan lingering in the doorway, seemingly unsure of what to do. You reach out to him wordlessly and his eyes widen for a brief moment.

“Don’t want me to leave?” He then says, a playful grin on his face. He rounds the side of the bed and gets under the covers. “I guess I am pretty irresistible.” You can’t quite see the expression on his face, but you somehow know that he’s wearing a cheeky smirk.

Once he gets settled, you realize that, somehow, Dylan is just radiating heat. You try to tell yourself that you’re just cold, that you’re seeking him out for warmth and nothing more. But you know that’s a lie. You’ve grown quite fond of Dylan over the course of this summer, after all. You inch closer to him and practically burrow into his side, resting your head on his chest and feeling any of your remaining energy seep out of you.

Despite your exhaustion, your mind is beginning to run wild as you try to justify your actions to yourself. This is just a friendly gesture. Amongst friends. Because you’re nothing more than friends… Right?

Dylan must be a mind reader, because he looks over at you and hums. “Just sleep.” He whispers. Somehow, the remark is enough for your thoughts to calm down—for you to accept that he’s okay with this, that you’re not taking advantage of his kindness. And maybe a sizable part of you is still desperately hoping that even a fraction of your feelings are returned—that maybe, just maybe, he likes you too.

But right now, you’re drifting off into sleep in his arms, and one thing is for sure: you’re warming up already.

endnotes: as i said, i had some of this fic written up for a character in friday the 13th… until i realized he wasn’t an important character and ended up dying… but then!!! i realized hackett's quarry is also a camp… and this happened. (*captain holt voice*) boom! had it both ways! no regrets.

i sprinkled in a bit of Abi/Emma. teehee. the gay agenda.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

#defectivevillain #gn reader #male reader #transmasc reader #nb reader #the quarry #the quarry x reader #Dylan lenivy #Dylan lenivy x reader #Dylan lenivy x male reader #Dylan lenivy x gn reader

24 notes · View notes

annwrites · 1 day

Text

forever

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: you & billy go to a vegas casino. the next day, you have a scare & make a commitment.

— tags: ♡

— tw: gambling

— word count: 7,412

— a/n: while i am very proud of this entire series so far, there's just something more about this post for me. I actually cried while writing this one. i hope you all enjoy!

find my other posts concerning billy here

GIF by 62737462718star

The next day, you and Billy stay snuggled up in bed, watching TV—him, at first, changing the channel every few minutes as soon as you got interested in something just to drive you nuts—napping, eating, talking, and every once in awhile getting on each other’s nerves just for fun.

But, as you laid with your head on his chest and his fingers in your hair, you were completely content to fall back asleep listening to his steady breathing. The beat of his heart.

You wake in the middle of the night to Billy tossing and turning beside you, muttering unintelligibly. His brows are furrowed, body slick with sweat.

You cup his cheek in your hand, shooshing him, telling him to wake up.

And when his eyes do open, they're full of fear. He looks to you at his side and his face crumples. "Oh, baby doll," he says, burying his face between your breasts, wrapping his arms around you.

You twine your fingers in his hair, holding him to you. "It was just a nightmare. It's okay."

"I lost you," he whispers. "You...fuck, you stopped breathing. I-"

"Shh, it wasn't real. I'm right here. Shh."

You let him cry softly against your chest until you eventually coax him back to sleep by reassuring him over and over again that you're all better now. You're still here.

"I love you. Just try and go back to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up, okay?"

He nods, pulling you closer. "I love you, too."

While still a tad under the weather, you feel far better the next day. And are honestly itching to get out of the motel room, even if it's just to go sit outside or ride shotgun while Billy drives around, letting you sight-see.

You're just coming out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go, when Billy comes back into the room carrying breakfast with him.

He kicks the door closed with his boot—a brown paper bag held between his teeth, to-go cups in one arm, a couple more bags in the other.

He looks up to you with a raised brow as he begins setting everything down. He nods toward the bed. "Take all that off and get back into bed."

You come over to him. "I feel better today. I'm tired of being stuck in this room, Billy. It's been days now. Can we please go do something?"

You bat your lashes at him, pressing up against him and he groans as you slip a hand in his pocket. "Pretty please?"

Before he can tell you, yet again, to get back into bed, you swiftly remove your hand, his keys dangling from your fingers.

He sighs, holding out his hand. "Yeah, you're hilarious. C'mon, give 'em."

You back up a step, hiding them behind your back. "As soon as you promise to let me out of here."

He studies you for a moment. "Maybe in another day or-"

"No, today."

He crosses his arms, jaw flexing. "I said no. And that's final."

You step closer to him, reaching out for his hand, which he snatches away.

"No. Do...do you have any idea what you put me through? I thought..." He shakes his head. "Don't ever fucking do that again, alright?"

Your lip twitches. "I will do my utmost to never get sick again. I promise."

You press yourself against his chest then. "Now let me outside."

He sighs. "Only once you've had breakfast."

You snuggle closer. "Deal."

"If you so much as sneeze, I'm taking your ass back."

You roll your eyes. He'd been like this since before you stepped out the door. He'd even forced a thermometer under your tongue before letting you go out, which had read at a perfect 98.7°—a temperature that should've pleased him, but he'd instead frowned.

You'd tried making a joke about him just wanting to keep you all to himself for another day, but had known it was because he was terrified of you going back outside and getting sick again.

You turn in your seat to face him and run your fingers through his hair.

He fights against his lip twitching at the tender gesture. He sighs then. "Alright, where to? Unless you want me to pick?"

He looks at you then, a smirk now on his face. "We are in Sin City. Could always hit a sex shop, then head back and create our own entertainment for the day."

You lean over, kissing him deeply and when you pull away, he has a brow raised, thinking he's talked you into it.

"Nice try."

He leans back, rolling his eyes as he turns the car over.

"Billy, stop, we can't go in. This is ridiculous. They're never going to buy your fake; I'm sure they see them everyday."

Billy was currently pulling you alongside him...into Caesar's Palace. He'd gotten the idea to go gambling in his head, and not even offering to go to a sex shop to try on skimpy lingerie had managed to talk him out of it. You'd even threw in that he could finally cuff you to whatever he wanted and have his way with you if he just turned back around, but he'd not listened to a word.

You'd tried tugging unsuccessfully against his hand, unable to pull him back an inch in the other direction. He'd instead led you further inside. And, just when he'd thought—ignorantly—as he passed the hotel lobby, headed in the direction of the casino floor, he was about to get away with it, a large man dressed in a suit, who was probably twice the size of Billy, stepped in his way.

Billy didn't shrink away from his authoritative presence, but you might've hidden yourself just the least bit behind him as you glanced up shyly to the security guard.

"Somewhere you're headed?" He asks, voice a deep baritone tune.

Billy looks up at him with a bored expression, nodding behind him. "Got a few greenbacks that're just burnin' a hole in my pocket."

He goes to step past him, but the man side-steps, once again blocking him.

"ID card, pal."

Billy retrieves his wallet, handing him the requested piece of information.

He studies it with a raised brow, then looks at Billy. "Billy Squier? You really thought someone would buy that?" He tosses it back to him. "Go on, get out of here."

Billy shrugs, tucking his wallet back away. "Like I can help that we share the same name." He smirks, flashing him a dazzling smile. "The Stroke is a damn good song, though, ain't it?"

He glances to you, then back to the security guard.

The man chooses to ignore Billy then, honing in on you. "You got a fake for me, too? Let me guess: Stevie Nicks? No. Cindy Lauper."

You hold Billy's hand more tightly. "I-"

Billy interrupts you. "She left hers in the car." He lets go of your hand then. "Listen, man, what's it going to take? My money's good, ain't it?" He pulls out a wad of rolled up cash, counts out a few bills, then reaches forward, feigning shaking his hand, the bills disappearing in the other man's grip. "Just trying to show my girl a good time. What, you've never been young and in love before?"

"You ever been employed before, kid?" He shoves the money back against Billy's chest. "Go on, before I have to use force."

Billy gives him a glare before turning back around, wrapping his arm around your waist. "C'mon, baby, we'll go blow a grand at Circus Circus instead."

Somehow, you and Billy get lucky at the next casino. You show up just when the security guards are changing shifts and sneak right in. Your heart had been pounding, and you couldn't tell whether it was your palm or his that was sweaty, but you eventually come to wrap your arms around one of his as he weaves between slot machines and craps tables.

You glance around, lights twinkling in your wide eyes in the dim lighting, the room illuminated by colorful overhead chandeliers, and neon slot machines. There's even a section of the room that's modeled after a carousel.

You look up to Billy then, walking alongside him. "Can I play a slot machine?" You ask sweetly.

"Once I win at blackjack."

You frown. "Do you even know how?"

He stop, turning back to you. "Baby, I've got skills you've never seen."

You hook your finger on his black half-unbuttoned shirt. "That's likely."

He shakes his head. "Keep it up."

When he turns away, you smack his ass and he laughs.

You stand behind Billy, actually impressed. He'd not been lying about knowing how to play cards. While nearly every other person sitting at the table had eventually folded, or busted more times than they were comfortable with, and thus left with bruised egos, Billy's chips were just piling up.

You didn't like the way some people were eyeing his winnings, however.

You lean down close to his ear as he holds his cards close to his chest. "Billy, I think that's enough-"

"After this hand."

You sigh, frowning. "You said that twenty minutes ago."

He taps two fingers against the table and the dealer slides another card his way.

"Like I can help that I'm on a roll." He looks up at you, smirking. "Think you might be my little good-luck charm."

You shift on your feet. "You have way more than you came in with now. Can I please just go try a slot machine?"

He glances to the dealer and watches as he turns over a card and a smile breaks out across Billy's face as he throws his own cards down, slamming his fists against the table. "Woo! Winner winner, baby!"

He pulls more chips in his direction, which you grab in your fists, heading in another direction with them. You hear him curse from behind you, but quickly gathers the remaining ones on the table before following you to go cash in.

After finishing up with the casino’s teller, Billy securely pockets away a few hundred dollars, practically beaming from his winnings. He then hands you a five and nods toward the slot machines. “Go nuts.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Only five dollars?”

He leans down close to you. “You want more, guess you’ll have to blow me.”

Your expression then morphs into a scowl. “You’re so-”

“Y’know, my dice, when I play craps later?”

You turn your back to him, heading toward a slot machine. “That is so not what you meant.”

“Not my fault that my cock is all you can think about.”

After losing once, you’d been ready to burn the entire building down. But after a few times? You were seething. You yank on the arm one last time and it then demands more money.

“Oh, that is such bull. It took all my money!”

Billy glances to those few others who are seated at nearby machines and a muscle in his jaw feathers when he sees them looking your way as you continue to make a scene.

“I didn’t win once. This game is rigged. I want a different machine!”

He can’t believe you’re getting this upset over losing five dollars that hadn’t even been yours to begin with, anyway.

“Honey-”

“Don’t honey me, I want another five,” you state, holding out your hand.

He crosses his arms. “I think someone might have a bit of a gambling problem.”

The vein in the middle of your forehead makes an appearance—he’s never seen that trick before. “I wanted cherries. I kept getting fucking bananas and-”

He steps closer to you, needing to calm you before someone calls security. “Sweetheart, I will give you all the banana you want when we get back to the motel. But right now-”

“I said cherries! See, you’re not even listening to me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Good Lord, you’re acting like a little kid. And he typically relied on you to be the mature one. Seeing you so pissed was funny at first, but now you were getting a bit scary.

“Alright, fine, I will pop your cherry when-”

You lean your head back, groaning. “Too late for that now, isn’t it?” You look at him again.

He finally reaches up, squeezing your cheeks until your lips are puckered. “You want to get us kicked out?”

“No,” you mutter through fish lips.

He smirks. You look adorable like this. So tiny and angry and your face all squished in his strong grip. Like a pissed off kitten. “If I give you another five, will you promise—if you lose—to control your temper, and behave yourself, and not be a sore loser?”

“Yes.”

He releases you, giving you the promised amount of cash.

“Motherfu-”

He yanks you up from the stool by your upper arm before you can finish that expletive. “Alright, time to go. You’ve had enough.”

“Just give me another-”

“Nope, you’ve had enough.”

“But-”

“No buts. C’mon. You’d leave us high and dry if I let you have your way.”

“You are so not getting lucky tonight.”

“Already did. Sounds like you’re the one who didn’t.”

“Oh, you son of a-”

Once the two of you are back at the motel, you’d thankfully calmed down. Billy was almost afraid to leave not just his money, but the keys to the Camaro anywhere you could get to them, lest you return to the casino for a second round. Third, really.

But, once you were in a bubble bath and softly humming to yourself as you washed up, he figured that you seemed well-enough over it.

After bathing, you stand over your bag of toiletries with shaking hands and wide eyes, your heart hammering in your chest as you stare down at a tampon that’d been hidden at the bottom of the bag.

You were late. Very late, by your standards. Your period had always been like clockwork. If it was ever ‘late’, it was by no more than a day. Ever. And even that was rare. Far and few between.

But today made five. The two of you had used protection every time. But…what if there had been a hole in one of the condoms? Or some of his semen had somehow leaked out or… That night on top of the Camaro. But he’d finished on your stomach. Not inside of you. No. This wasn’t happening. You were not-

“You about done in there? I need to take a piss.”

You jolt, dropping the plastic tube on the floor, staring at the closed door, unable to form a single word on your tongue. Until you manage to choke out, “Just a sec.”

“Gettin’ all dolled up for me just to go to bed?”

Your eyes sting with unshed tears. God, you want him to just leave you be for a few more minutes so you can collect yourself. Because right now? You felt on the verge of a hysterical breakdown.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. Your face had gone pale, all blood drained from your lips, your eyes wide and terrified. And you were shaking like a leaf.

You begin taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. Oh God, you felt like you were about to pass out.

It was nothing.

You’d been under a lot of stress lately, that was all. Yes, that made perfect sense. From the moment you’d left Hawkins, you’d been on a non-stop rollercoaster of emotions. All the traveling, the fighting, worrying about money, worrying about each other, worrying about the future, you getting sick—it was a perfect recipe for a late period.

And it was only five days. Just because it was always on time before didn’t mean it couldn’t be late now. Sometimes bodies were weird. They didn’t always operate how they were supposed to. Obviously, or so many diseases and disabilities wouldn’t exist. And stress could wreak havoc on the healthiest of people. So, you had nothing to worry about. Right?

“Sweetheart?”

You quickly gather your things, your stomach now in knots, shoulders tense, jaw locked tight.

You swing open the door and stare up at Billy. “All yours,” you say stepping past him.

A moment later, you hear him relieving himself. You let out a breath of relief that he hadn’t noticed you were upset.

You’d barely touched your dinner. Billy had noticed, but you’d used the excuse that you ‘weren’t all that hungry’. He’d stared at you for a moment before stealing one of your shrimp, telling you that he’d eat them if you weren’t going to. He hadn’t noticed your palm pressed against your stomach.

Once the two of you were in bed, you’d turned your back to him, trying to fight back tears. If…if you were…what would happen to the two of you? You’d felt so sure that you’d found the one now. But this… A baby would ruin everything. He’d leave you. This much he wouldn’t stand for, you were sure of it.

You were both eighteen. Kids yourselves. What the hell did either of you know about being parents? You wouldn’t have any idea of how to be a proper mother, you’d not been given an example of one yourself. And Billy had his history with his father.

You hadn’t had that talk yet: what you wanted when it came to kids. You don’t even know what it is that he wants. You don’t know what you want, either.

Just as your terror begins to grow, you feel his hand sliding along your hip, erection pressed against your back. You feel sick at the sensation of it. That part of him had destroyed your entire life. And now you would be the one forced to deal with the consequences. The fallout.

You’d been right to be abstinent before. This was his fault. He’d not stopped until he’d buried himself inside your head. Had pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled until you didn’t know where else to run but into his arms.

No. You can’t think like that. He loves you. He’d made some mistakes, but you understood why. Had chosen to forgive him. You loved him, too. And what if you were just getting yourself all worked up over nothing? What if you weren’t indeed pregnant, and causing yourself further stressed just delayed your period further?

Billy presses his lips to your neck, reaching under his t-shirt, which you’re wearing, cupping your breast. “Want me to help you get undressed, honey?”

You bite your lip until you taste blood, fighting back tears. “I’m really tired. Maybe not tonight.” You say it so quietly that he barely hears you.

He presses a soft kiss to the back of your head. “Told you that you should’ve stayed in bed. But no one ever listens to Billy.”

You don’t respond. You just take his hand, wrapping his arm around your waist, praying to God he doesn’t notice that your own is shaking.

You toss and turn most of the night, at one point locking yourself in the bathroom to cry while Billy sleeps, clutching your stomach, praying to God that you’re not what you think you are. If you were, and he did leave you, what would you do? Where would you go? Everything would fall out from under your feet then. You’d have nothing. No one. He was your entire world. Everything. He was everything. Your everything. You’d come to lean so heavily on him. To rely on him at every turn.

If he left you behind… You want to die at the thought.

The next morning, you’re exhausted. And Billy quickly takes notice over breakfast. Which you barely touch.

He brushes his foot against yours, reaching for your hand, concerned with the lost-in-thought look on your face. Were you getting sick again?

“Baby?”

You look up at him. “Hm?”

“You alright, angel?” He reaches up, pressing his palm to your forehead. You don’t feel feverish…

You nod slightly, looking back down to your cereal, which is now just a bowl of mush, stirring it.

“I think you’re still just getting over that cold. I should’ve made you stay in yesterday. How about you go lie back down and get some rest. We’ll just hang out here for the rest of the day. Alright?”

You nod, getting up, stripping, lying back down. You quickly fall asleep.

When you wake, the TV is on, the volume low, and Billy is sitting up, one arm around you, holding you close to his leg. You stare at the closed curtains, wondering what time it is, but don’t want to ask, because you don’t want to talk. Don’t want him to notice that something more is wrong than you just ‘being under the weather’, even if you knew you felt completely back to normal now. You don’t want him to keep digging until you’re finally forced to cave and tell him what’s really going on.

So, you close your eyes instead, forcing yourself back into a dreamless slumber.

Billy had let you sleep through lunch, but he now stands at the foot of the bed, frowning, considering whether to wake you for dinner. He’d gotten you a cheeseburger—one of your favorites—so he’s sure you’ll eat it.

He tucks some hair behind your ear, then gently shakes you awake.

“Dinner’s here, beautiful. Time to get up. Once you’ve eaten, you can go back to bed.”

You moan against the pillow, wishing he’d just left you be. You didn’t want to eat, because the moment you opened your eyes, your stomach was twisting into knots again. But you fight the feeling of nausea down, telling yourself to, at the very least, act fine. Pretend like you feel as much.

You sit up, smiling slightly at him.

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “How’re you feeling?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face from his view. “Better.”

He sighs. “Good. That’s good.”

He leads you over to the table and you force every bite down.

Billy makes another sexual advance that night, shortly after laying down. He slips his hands between your legs. “I can do all the work tonight, if you want?”

You’d simply pressed yourself into his chest. “Could you just hold me instead? Maybe…maybe tomorrow.”

He’d remained silent as he slid his strong arms around you, holding you close, whispering that he loved you and to get some more rest. That he was sure you’d feel better in the morning.

You do not, in fact, feel better in the morning. More rested than the day previous, yes, but your nerves are fried.

You’d raced to the bathroom to…expel your bowels from nerves at least twice in the night, and now your stomach was truly on empty. But just the thought of eating made you feel sick.

Currently, it’s morning and you’re lying in bed awake, even if you’d rather not be, listening to Billy quietly snore beside you. You sit up, staring down at him, trying to memorize every line and facet of his face. His body.

Before you loose him for good.

Tears sting your eyes at the thought of being alone again. Though, you won’t be totally alone, you suppose. If you are…that…will it look like you or him? Will it have his eyes? His beautiful head of hair? You don’t think you can bear it: having to look upon a perfect reflection—reminder—of him every day, knowing he’s never coming back.

How could you have let this happen? What if you got rid of it instead? Somehow, that thought makes you feel worse. A little bundle that’s equal parts you and him…gone. Just as a tear slips down your cheek, he begins to wake.

You quickly wipe it away, smiling as he opens his eyes, looking up at you, stretching.

He reaches a hand up to your cheek, cupping it. “Morning, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

“You been up long?”

You shake your head. “I just woke up a couple minutes before you did.”

“Admiring your sleeping beauty then, huh?”

You smile at the sarcastic comment. “Most certainly.”

He slides his other hand up your thigh, stopping close to your heat. “You want to?”

You shift under his touch. How to tell him no yet again? You’d not been intimate in days, and you worry that continuing to reject him will only serve to hurt him, if not make him suspicious. But the thought of him buried inside of you right now… You simply can’t.

He notices your silence and his smile fades. “Guess not.” He removes his hand, getting up from bed, nervously running his hand through his hair. “I’m gonna go take a leak,” he says, padding over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Your chin wobbles, knowing you did it anyway: hurt his feelings.

Billy lays on the horn, waiting for traffic to move. He glances to you then, who is busy staring out your open window. He knows something is wrong. But you won’t tell him what.

He reaches over, sliding his hand up your leg and his ego takes a hit when you recoil at his touch. He sighs, resting his hand back on the shifter. “Come the fuck on, man!” He shouts at the line of cars in front of him.

He then looks back to you. “What? Are you still sick?”

You clasp your hands. “No. I’m just…tired.”

He leans his head back, rolling his eyes. “Heard that a lot the last couple days. Don’t know how. It’s not like we’ve screwed much recently.”

In all honesty, he didn’t really care about that. He was fine with waiting on you. It was the fact you were keeping something from him that was starting to really get under his skin.

You begin to shake from anger then. “After everything, and that’s still all you think about. Not like I should be surprised. Since we met that’s all you’ve thought with is what’s in your pants.”

He jerks his head in your direction. The two of you hadn’t fought like this in a minute. “Excuse me?”

“You want to get laid? We’re in Vegas. Go pick up some hooker on the strip. You should have enough for it after the other night at the casino, I’m sure.”

He grips the wheel tighter. “The fuck is your problem? Huh? You got somethin’ you want to say to me?”

You look at him and his expression softens when he sees the tears gathering in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say, voice breaking, burying your head in your hands.

He unbuckles, reaching over, wrapping his arms around your trembling frame. “Shh. Baby, please tell me what the fuck is going on. Did…did I do something?”

How to say yes and no?

You look up at him then, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’m late.”

His brows furrow. “Late? Late for wha-”

His face falls, all color draining from it and quickly, leaving him lightheaded. He remains calm, as calm as he can manage—for the moment. “How late?” He asks, deathly serious.

“F-five days.”

“And the latest you’ve ever been is?”

“A day. And rarely, at that.”

He stares at you for a moment, then swerves onto the shoulder, parking, and quickly getting out, slamming the door behind him. “Fuck! Motherfuck! Why does this shit keep happening to me? It’s going great one minute, then it all just turns to shit!”

You turn away from the window then, refusing to listen to anymore as you begin to sob, clutching your stomach. You reach forward, toward the dash, now hyperventilating, trying to catch your breath, your ears ringing.

A moment later, Billy gets back in the car, forcing his way back into traffic. “We’re not going to freak out until you’ve taken a piss test and we know for sure.”

Both of you stand in the family-planning aisle of a CVS, staring at their plethora of a selection of pregnancy tests. Billy reaches forward with a shaking hand, grabbing a two-pack in a pink box.

“Should…do you want this one?” He asks, looking at you.

You shrug, lower lip trembling.

He puts it back, grabbing a blue box next. “This one sounds like it should be fairly accurate. Ninety-eight percent.” He tosses it back onto the shelf. “Why the fuck are there so many? What’s the goddamn difference? I mean, Jesus, it’s like buying condoms. I mean, the things are supposed to be fuckin’ fool-proof, right? Why make shit that leaves you guessing in a situation like this? It’s ridiculous.”

You stay quiet, knowing he’s talking more to himself than he is you.

He picks the blue box back up, grabbing your hand in his other, leading you up front to the register.

Billy tosses the test onto the counter and the older woman behind it eyes up the two of you as she scans the box, telling Billy his total.

You just stare at the floor as he pulls out a bill, telling her to keep the change. Then, “You all have a public restroom?”

Billy waits outside the door as you go, silent tears slipping down your cheeks as you place the cap back on the test and set it on the sink, waiting.

It’s maybe two minutes later before his patience has worn through and he pounds on the door, making you jump. “What’s takin’ so long?”

You walk over, cracking the door open, staring up at him. “It takes fifteen minutes.”

His brows raise. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He barges in, shutting the door behind him. “Why the hell don’t they put that on the goddamn box?”

“They did,” you reply quietly, showing it to him—right on the front. “See?”

He snatches it away from you, staring at it like it’s his own worst enemy, then tossing it in the trash.

He begins to pace back and forth in the small space, hands on his hips. You stand silently against the wall, watching him.

“I can’t believe this is fucking happening. This—coming out here—getting to California. It was supposed to be a new fucking start and now… I’m eighteen-goddamn-years-old. I can’t be a dad yet. I’m not ready. I mean, Jesus, I don’t know that I want kids ever. I can’t stand ‘em now. Annoying little shits. And they’re expensive as hell. Even if you think you’re ready, you’re fuckin’ not. We don’t even have a place to live. What? Am I gonna stick a crib in the fucking backseat of the Camaro? Fuck!”

When he looks at you, his heart drops.

You’re standing against the wall, shaking, tears streaming down your face, biting your lip, both hands clutched over your stomach, your face pale. “I’ll get rid of it,” you whisper.

Then you continue, “Oh God, what’s happening to me? I can’t…I can’t do this alone. What am I supposed to do? How…how am I going to live? What will happen to my baby?” You hang your head, truly sobbing then.

You thought he was going to leave you? Alone? To this?

He steps over, quickly wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sorry. Baby, I’m right here. Sweetheart, look at me.”

He takes your face in his hands. “Angel, I’m not going anywhere. If you are…it’s not like I didn’t play a part in it. You should know by now that I’m in this for the long haul. That you’re it for me. I know you deserve better than me. You always will. But I’ll try my best, alright? To be a good dad. I had a shitty fuckin’ example, but maybe I can learn from his mistakes. I’ll take care of you.”

He presses a palm to your stomach then. “Both of you. We’ll…we’ll get married. I’ll be better than he was. I have to be. You deserve that.”

You blink up at him, speechless. Had…had he just proposed? “You…want to get married?”

He smiles, kissing your forehead. “It’s the right thing to do. But I’m not getting’ down on one knee, if that’s what you’re expecting. Not in this nasty fuckin’ restroom, anyway.”

You glance to the test. “I think it’s been enough time now.”

You walk over to it and fill with relief—joy—when you see the minus sign. You double over the sink, laughing lightly. All that stress and for nothing. Nothing at all. “Oh, thank God!” You laugh some more, feeling like all is right with the world again. “I’m not pregnant. We don’t have to get married now! We can just-”

You stop talking when you turn around and see Billy isn’t nearly as elated as you are. Not even smiling. Nor is he looking at you. Instead, his hands are gripping the metal support beam behind him, eyes trained on the floor.

“I-”

He quickly brushes past you then, wrenching the door open. “Let’s go.”

Once the two of you have returned to the motel, he still hasn’t spoken another word to you. He’d gone in the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, even going so far as to lock as it while he showered.

You’d pressed your ear up against the door, listening, trying to ensure he was okay, but could hear nothing over the sound of water.

So, you’d sat on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting, thinking of how best to apologize for what you’d said. You’d just been so sure that he would be relieved as well. He’d said it himself: that he wasn’t ready for a baby yet. Then you wonder…had it been your comment about marriage that had upset him?

Was…was he ready for that? Were you? But when you think of it: wearing a ring he’s chosen for you, taking his last name, vowing to spend your life next to him—it doesn’t fill you with fear or doubt or unease. It fills you with love. Joy. A feeling of security.

When Billy emerges quite some time later, he tries to hide it, but you see it: his eyes are bloodshot.

Your heart breaks, now knowing what’d taken him so long.

He had been crying.

You pad over to him, wrapping your arms around his middle as he chooses a t-shirt for bed. He doesn’t do that, though—wear pajamas to lie down next to you. And now he suddenly feels the need to shield himself from you?

You press your cheek to his bare back. “Did you mean what you said about getting mar-”

“Just fuckin’ drop it, alright? You’re not knocked up, so now we don’t have to get hitched. Let’s just go to bed.”

“But-”

“Like you’d want to anyway.”

“I do.”

He freezes. Suddenly imagining you saying those words in a different context. He slowly turns back around to you. “What?”

You stand on tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his damp curls. “I want to if you do.”

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “Really?”

You smile, nodding. “I’m sorry for what I said. I wasn’t thinking. I was just relieved that I wasn’t pregnant. I…I’m already yours in every other way. Why not this one, too? Billy, no one else is ever going to love me the way you have—do. Just like you, I don’t want anyone else. You’re what I want. I can’t imagine having to start over with someone else after…after all of this. The thought of losing you…it was tearing me apart. Having to think of living a life without you in it…”

You trail off for a moment, swallowing the lump that’s forming in your throat. “I’ll marry you.”

His lip twitches and his eyes grow glassy. He then crushes you to his chest, holding you close, cradling the back of your head. “Okay.”

You and Billy are currently browsing through selections of gently-used clothing at a local thrift store, trying to pick out outfits to wear to the Little White Chapel. But every white dress you come across has something wrong with it: holes, tears, rips, yellowing, or it’s just a tad outdated or way too frilly.

Until you find a hanger buried behind numerous other items. As you look the dress over, you begin to smile.

You then wander over to Billy, who’s looking through men’s dress clothes and poke him in the back.

When he turns, a grin forms on his face. He grips the soft material, looking to you. A white babydoll dress, silver sparkles dancing against the overhead fluorescent lights. There’s even a matching veil.

“It kind of smells like mothballs,” you say.

He smirks. “Don’t worry, baby, you won’t be wearing it long.”

Once Billy had picked out a pair of dress slacks that he felt were a tad too tight—until you’d been unable to remove your eyes from his rear, and then he’d said they fit just perfect after all—as well as a white button-up shirt, he’d gone over to the lingerie and gotten lucky when he’d found you a garter.

The two of you then went up and you stood by his side, smiling up at him, as he paid for your purchases, then asked about changing in-store.

Once the two of you emerged from the changing rooms, even he was blushing. So, you’d taken his hand in yours, and headed back out to the car together.

“Can we stop at a pawn shop first?”

He glances to you. “For?”

You reach in the backseat, grabbing a shoulder bag, then pulling your dad’s Rolex out. “I want to trade this. For a ring. For you.”

He nods then, sniffling. “Course, baby.”

“What about that one?”

Billy shakes his head. “It’s fuckin’ hideous.”

You raise a brow. He was worse than a woman when it came to jewelry, apparently.

You squint, looking into the late-night pawn shop’s display case, then kneeling in front of it, practically pressing your face up against the glass. You smile, pointing, looking up to the middle-aged shop-keep behind it. “Can I see that one?”

He nods, unlocking the display from his side, grabbing the ring you’d indicated, handing it to you.

You grab Billy’s left hand, sliding it onto his ring finger. And it’s a perfect fit. A simple gold band.

You stare up at him.

He looks to the man. “Will the Rolex cover this?”

“More than.”

Billy looks back to you. “We’ll take it.”

Once the two of you are sitting in the parking lot of the small chapel, it’s only then that you notice Billy is shaking.

You reach toward him, but he quickly exits the car, making his way around to your side, opening your door.

He doesn’t look at you.

You brush your thumb over his lips, quieting him. “And I always came back. Or you came for me. Billy, neither of us is perfect. No one alive is. But…that’s the point, right? Of falling in love? Loving someone despite their flaws. Or…helping them through them. Not just giving up when things get hard. I know what—who—I want. We’ve both said it: that we belong together.” You press yourself against his chest and he wraps his arms around you, kissing the crown of your head. “So let’s go make it official. No one is ever going to love me like you do.”

You then reach up, cupping his cheek, taking one of his hands in yours. “Are you okay? We…we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. If you want to wait, I’m okay with that. As long as we’re together- ”

He shakes his head, his hand trembling in yours. “What if…what if I fuck this up? I’ve already done it enough times already. I nearly lost you back in Oklahoma and then again in Texas. What if I turn out to be just like him and I hurt you, or-”

He rests his cheek against your veil. “Okay.”

You pull back, looking up at him with hopeful eyes, full of love.

“Let’s go get married.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“And do you, Billy Hargrove, take this little lady to be your lawfully wedded bride? To have and hold tender and sweet, to love and cherish, in sickness and in health, for riches—God willin’—or poorer, for better or worse, ‘till death do ya part?”

Being married by an Elvis impersonator was most-certainly going to be a story to remember.

Billy tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing your jaw line, his other hand holding your right one. “I do.”

He reaches into his pocket, and when he pulls out his hand, a silver ring is held between his thumb and index finger.

Your brows furrow. He’d told you back at the pawn shop that he had your ring already covered, but refused to elaborate on how, until you were standing before one another exchanging vows.

He swallows thickly. “It was my mom’s,” he states, glancing to you, before sliding it onto your finger.

Unshed tears threaten to spill forth on both your parts.

“And do you, lil’ mama—Y/N—take this young stud, to be your hubby? To have and hold tender and sweet, to love and cherish, in sickness and in health, for riches or poorer, for better or worse, ‘till death do ya part?”

Your lip trembles as you stare up, into Billy’s beautiful, warm eyes. “I do.”

You slide the gold band you’d purchased less than half-an-hour ago onto his finger once again.

“Then, by the power vested in me by the great state of Nevada and the Lord Almighty, I do so pronounce you husband and bride. Now, my good man, kiss your lady.”

Billy leans down, cupping the back of your head, and crushing his lips to yours.

A woman who also works at the chapel snaps a few pictures of the two of you kissing, holding one another, and beaming up at each other and at the cheap disposable camera she holds in her hands.

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After the two of you exited the chapel holding hands, laughing, even crying a little, you’d gotten back into the car and Billy had driven you to a bar, insisting on having some form of a reception, even if it was just the two of you. In reality, he deeply wanted to have his first dance with you.

You stand in the middle of the room—the place near-empty; it was a tad dingy and small—waiting for Billy to select a song from the jukebox over in the corner. You know he’s found whatever he’s looking for when a small smile comes across his lips.

He comes back over to you, taking one of your hands in his, leaning his forehead down against yours just as Bob Dylan begins to hum the beginning of Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door, resting his other hand against the small of your back, pulling you in close.

You close your eyes, reaching up, tangling the fingers of your other hand in his hair, swaying back and forth with him to the slow song.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You open your eyes, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks as you press your lips to his own. “I love you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the two of you return to the motel, Billy leaves the door to the room open, blaring the song Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey from the car’s stereo outside, tugging you up on the bed with him and the two of you begin to jump up and down on the mattress, holding onto one another, smiling, laughing, happier than either of you ever thought you could be. Would ever be.

He crushes his lips to yours, holding your face in his hands. He pulls back. “Promise me that you’re mine for forever.”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Forever.”

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

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