#there are some people who come up with fun ideas but the majority is just edgy gamerbros who suggest you just make it harder and thats all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

Text

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Escape the Friendzone 2/4 (Word count 5.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Massive arms go about her as she's pulled against a lean chest. It's an awkward, tense hug. He smells of open air and coppice, with a whiff of acrid sweat on top as she lays her head somewhere between the bumps of muscle of a warm chest.

Not even the body heat makes him appear more human: his heart is not pounding as fast as she thought it would after making it clear he would score some tonight.

She fears she's dealing with a sociopath. Might even be a psychopath.

"Are you still afraid?"

"I don't know." Her breaths are everything but steady as she inhales the intoxicating scent of a madman.

"Don't be scared. I will only hurt those who wish to hurt you."

His pledge renders her weak; it makes her legs shake. She gets far more than she bargained for when pulling him in to give her a little late-night comfort.

Friends with benefits is a situation bad enough, but this is not okay. The guy's fixation seems boundless, and if she tries to wriggle out of this… relationship and starts seeing someone else, it might end up in König scrubbing the potential future love interest's guts off his shoes.

And something in the idea isn't even wholly appalling.

Good God…

"I don't want you to hurt anyone," she whispers like it isn't his day-to-day job – to hurt and kill people. She is on the verge of collapsing to the floor and stays upright only because he holds her in authoritarian embrace.

"Little angel, it's what I do." He releases her only enough to bow his head and look into her eyes. His stare betrays slight distaste. Those eyes are calm mirrors of how can someone be so naive.

"You come to me if someone is mean to you," he orders in a stern voice that makes her feel faint.

"Alright," she breathes a fluent little lie. He's satisfied with her answer, however, and presses her head back against him with effortless control.

She imagines him knifing someone with a listless stare from sparing a glance her way; she fantasizes him strangling some chauvinistic moron in the darkness after they have been "mean" to her. Quickening breaths betray her sick thoughts to him because he pulls her even closer. She can feel the enormous cock pressing against her body with a promise of violence.

"Angel… I wish you would stop teasing me."

"Yeah?" Her laugh is restrained, and her heart is racing inside her chest – like it's some kind of a good idea to have a heart attack while a murderous psycho turning into a boyfriend is in the same room with her. "Where's the fun in that…?"

"Do you always tease men like this?"

"No," she swallows a mouthful of woodland and musk. "Just you."

"Hm."

"König… Can I see your face?"

The man finally seems to find his reserve again. He detaches from her, and she can hear the audible gulp inside the hood.

"Maybe later."

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he usually does when he's a bit nervous. Probably to ease the discomfort from still being forced into those pants with such an astoundingly large, swelling erection, too.

She can't come up with anything that might explain why the man is so uncomfortable with showing his face. From the small glimpse she saw in the showers, everything looked completely normal. There is some other reason why he wants to wear the mask, most likely some mental block, and she would simply have to wait until he's ready and willing to take it off.

"How about a kiss?"

He doesn't shake his head or escape her as she hesitantly steps toward him and raises a hand to the hem of his hood.

"If I just…"

He does nothing as she starts to raise the mask. The look in his eyes is somewhat haunted, though.

She lifts it just enough to reveal a clean-shaven chin and a pair of thin, tightly shut lips. She briefly notices that there's a scar on his jaw before his mouth opens to call her in. They're polar opposites of each other: she feels breathless and limp when their lips meet while he's a statue of rigid power. Even his mouth is tense as she catches his bottom lip between hers and tries to soften that immortal stiffness. Distant notes of hops catch her tongue just before he pulls her back into a crushing hug.

The guy is not the most perfect kisser. He's very avid, though. In fact, his eagerness is what makes it a scary experience, what makes the kiss clumsy. He smashes his lips on hers with force, then opens his mouth so wide she fears he will devour half her face.

The ungloved hands slide down her back and cup her ass. He's gentle, but she still feels like she's levitating, half an inch above the ground from his groping. He moans like they are already having sex, but before she can disconnect herself from the violent kiss, he does it for her.

"I want to fuck you," he pants across her lips, eyes half-lidded and drunk. "Can I fuck you?"

The man has no conception of how to dance these dances. He simply declares his wish to shove his junk inside her and kill those who might do her harm. She feels dizzy in his arms, like dew that will evaporate under too much heat.

"Yeah, yes," she tries to sound sane, although there's nothing sane about this.

So much for being just friends or being nothing at all…

Her heart is beating faster and faster; it wants to rend itself out of her chest. She feels ample sweat between her thighs, then realizes it's only her own wetness that has broken through the cotton of her underwear. The dress is so tight in the middle that she can't simply try and throw it over her head, and the buttons at the front seem to have suddenly become too big to slip through the holes.

He doesn't take any of his clothes off while watching her undress. The instant she opens her whimsical veil of blooms, he moves close and shoves the fabric down her shoulders so that it drops sadly on the floor. Then he flicks a knife out.

Shit… Shit what the fuck–

"No–Don't–!"

The blade is forced with a flat surface under the middle of her bra. He pulls the fabric away, turns the blade - it's a miracle she's not bleeding by the time he cuts through the center front like it's butter. Her breasts fall free, and the destroyed lingerie hangs cheaply on the side before it gets dragged away too. She looks at his work, her exposed tits and the crude, fat knife he swiftly returns to its sheath.

"That was my favorite br–ah…"

The man is terrifying, even when he sinks to his knees. He dives for her breasts, licks the undersides and sucks her nipples like he's famished. Her head rolls back, and she feels fainter still as he gropes her like she's his toy, chews a nipple until she shudders and cries in pain. Then he goes down, down, panting hot breaths on her skin as he goes, the hood grazing and tickling her skin.

His hands shake slightly as he tears down the last piece of covering fabric from between her legs. She can't even step out of the briefs before a blazing tongue is pushed to her clit, all but delicately.

Perhaps he's not a virgin, but he's not a veteran, either – still, it draws a filthy moan out of her.

She has to take support from his head to prevent herself from falling when the tongue simply forces its way between her legs. It curls to meet her folds, slick with her wet. She knows she's practically leaking at this point, and hears how he licks his lips.

"Of course the angel tastes like heaven too," he rasps in her mound, sounding rather… bitter. Almost annoyed.

She thinks it's only the beginning, but he suddenly rises like a Kraken from the sea, like a Godzilla about to destroy an entire city.

"Get on the bed. All fours."

She chokes the whimper that tries to escape her, then turns and crawls onto the bed as if they are running out of time. His urgency is hers now, and she presents herself to him, waiting for the man to thrust in without remorse, but it's his mouth she feels first.

"Uh–Oh my god…"

He licks her with a flat tongue, torturously slow while she's on display. They're long, profound sweeps, as if he wants to sample her rather than give her pleasure. Although he does give her an immense amount of it.

She falls on her elbows, face down on the bed, exposing more of herself to him in the process. Her pussy has been neglected for so long that the feel of his hot tongue on her is absolutely breathtaking, thigh-shaking. She pushes herself back a little, lets him taste his own medicine for once.

And of course it only makes him more unhinged.

"You're wet like a…" he laughs a short, dry laugh straight into her folds, and she finally whimpers at the sound. "You want it so bad?"

"Yes…?"

It's a sad little confession but more than enough for him. He freezes behind her, and something in the way the air shifts tells her he has risen and is now standing high above her as she's in this crudely vulnerable position.

"I've made you wet this whole time?"

She snivels, opens her eyes, closes them…

"Yes," she sobs in the bed, nearly topples, but he grabs her ass and keeps her in place.

"Ach du lieber Himmel…"

She pants and cries in the sheets, but the sobering silence lasts only for so long.

The sound of a belt being opened shoots her skin full of goosebumps. Only a few seconds later, the fat tip of his cock is swept across her folds: it probes for a second, then slides in.

"A-ah–"

"Scheiße… So tight…"

He hisses and goes all the way in – the journey is long and torturous as he stretches her wide. The thickness only grows at the base, his balls are already tight as they arrive to press against her.

And mercy is not at the top of his list as he realizes she has denied her need and therefore, his. He starts to sail inside her, back and forth, in and out, like it's his job, too. It's total torture. She might just pass out before this is over.

"You little tease…" He seizes control of her hips while using her as his own personal fleshlight. The noise of wet, slick fucking is deafening. The pace is upped soon, and he has to use strength to hold her in place while ramming her from standing while she tries to hold on for her dear life and hold onto the sheets.

"Not so fast, König," she whimpers into her pillow, but he won't listen. The pace is frantic, and his thrusts are deep; he fucks her with despair, with anguish-driven, starved thrusts born from greed.

Nothing has ever felt so good, nothing.

"Just friends, eh?"

She has a hard time deciphering whether he is happy or mad. His voice is pitchy, and she knows, she just knows that he sounds equally as unglued on his missions. Perhaps that's why people rarely talk to him.

"Don't–don't be angry…"

"No? Say that you want me," he commands somewhere behind her, desperation coating the air with pungent sweat and musky arousal. "Say it–say it–"

"I want you," she finally cries, and it feels like an absolution. An amnesty. Remission of sin.

There's panting and frantic sound of slaps of flesh against flesh behind her. The air all around is pure electricity. It makes her quiver and throb and squeeze: him, the sheets, anything and everything.

"I will bring you flowers every morning and fuck you every night. Ja?"

His length is the only thing she can focus on; all else dissolves into a hazy mist. The cock glides in her like he's oiling a gun part, and he could ask her to kill someone and she would only say–

"Yes, yes."

He slides in and out with less and less control, moans and grunts with every thrust now. She's already past the point of no return, even though the orgasm keeps hovering right beyond her reach. She only needs a few more minutes. Or maybe just one...

"König… Not...so–fast…"

He answers something in German, an annoyed string of words she has no clue what they mean. He's probably just swearing profoundly.

"Get...what you deserve..."

That's the only thing she can flesh out from the English that follows. He finally finds some mercy with a choked groan and tries to slow down a little. It's even worse when he does that. He pulls almost completely out, then sinks back in, agonizingly lazy, and that does it: the full length of his giant cock slipping inside her without effort makes her walls clench.

"Oh God…" Her back is arching, her toes are curling, a tight cry disappears somewhere in the pillow, and he won't stop with the – "Oh–fuck–!"

"Yeah," he cheers her on as she screams, cries in the sheets while his cock swims in her. His hands dig into her hips, and she barely has brains left to think it might leave bruises. The orgasm comes in waves, shakes, and he won't let go even when she's only a heap of throbbing, soaking flesh and rapture.

And it's not the end; quite the contrary. He continues to fuck her with abandon: balls slap against her with every jab; they must be covered in her juice at this point, making the sound of sloppy thrusts utterly obscene. She's able to stay in a face-down, ass-up position only because he's holding her there for his cock.

The grunts turn into a wide, thick groan as he approaches the edge as well. The pace slows down almost to a halt before he comes.

"Jetzt…kommt–" he groans through gritted teeth, voice all taut while he grinds through his release. It's a multitude of deep, oddly paced thrusts, a sad attempt to get everything he can, and she's still like a wet gulf sucking him in.

The last throes are sluggish, the madness starts to pass, and she feels like every bone has left her body. There is nothing solid left when the man slowly relents and settles somewhere deep inside her. She can hear how he pants with his mouth open, and it sounds painful, wet, almost drooly. Then he swallows with a breathless gulp, slips out, and lets her go.

She immediately falls forward - topples, crashes, crawls on the bed, tries to rearrange what's left.

Just friends...

Yep.

He crashes somewhere beside her, spent and out of breath. The front of his shirt is covered in sweat; the air is filled with the stale scent of musk and saline sweat and pure, mad sex. She can barely catch a glimpse of the slick, glistening length of him. It feels like a miracle that this thing has been inside her. It’s not that it’s monstrously thick: it’s simply long, curving a little to the side, lean and aggressive even when growing soft.

"You play with fire, Engel. Why did you make me wait so long?"

The masked killer beside her is panting but satisfied for now, and turns his head to look at her. She has to muster all her courage to look back.

"I'm…a bit shy."

"You're perfect," he declares while watching her in her sex daze and ruin. So, at least he's not angry. He finally looks… normal, even with that absurd hood still on, with that intoxicated, admiring stare in his eyes. The ice in his blues has turned into melting snow.

"I noticed you the minute I arrived here."

She can't prevent a hand from reaching out at that, from splaying fingers over his chest.

"I noticed you too," she whispers back before moving closer to snuggle him. His heart is finally thumping in his chest, right under her cheek – from the late exercise or their closeness, she can't tell. A heavy arm goes around her, pressing her further into the nook of his armpit.

"You remind me of one of my knives," he says while holding her close.

Oh good God…

"You are a butterfly knife girl."

"Oh?"

"Ja. Small and cute and a lot of fun. And I can't get enough of you."

So much for getting rid of the man after getting some d. God, what was wrong with her? Any other woman would have put up some boundaries, perhaps gotten a restraining order by now.

"Is it… a good knife?" Her voice comes out as an annoying squeal, and he pulls her closer, ever closer.

"I mainly use it for playing."

She wets her lips in an attempt to calm herself, to comfort herself. She’s just another plaything for a murderer whose hunger seems endless, even if he’s more civil now. Still, she fears this man is only after sex and violence. Her little dresses and petite lingerie won't stand a chance against such brutality.

"What knife are you…?"

"Classic Glock field knife. Tall and ugly."

Behind the thin veil of indifference, there's pride. It borders on arrogance. She catches a dash of bitterness, too: field knives don't pair well with butterflies, perhaps.

"König, you're not ugly," she breaks their odd cuddle to look at him. "This sounds like a trustworthy knife to me."

He looks back at her with an even warmer tinge to the glacier of his eyes.

"It is. You cannot hope for a more loyal blade."

Her gaze drops somewhere in the darkness of his shirt. He's pledging himself for the second time to her, and it causes another storm inside her head. There's warmth on her cheeks, too.

"You are cute when you blush," he observes with pleased tranquility.

Perhaps... Perhaps he doesn't want to hurt things he finds cute.

Perhaps he will take care of them, like he takes care of his knives.

It still takes some getting used to that he allows his hood to be lifted just enough to push his tongue inside her mouth or pussy but taking it off to show his face is too much. She is lying there with him in an odd post-coital dream, thoroughly naked while he's still fully dressed. But she doesn't feel cold, not when pressed against his blazing form like this.

"Did you nick my underwear?" She asks out of the blue, and the hand stroking her waist stops in the middle of an idle caress.

"I might have," he admits without a single ounce of remorse in his voice.

"König… That's not cool," she says, knowing he can hear the lack of scolding in her voice.

"You want them back?"

"I… Gosh. Yes, that would be nice."

What a pervert.

"Or... Nevermind. Keep them," she sighs, trying to brush off the fact that the underwear in question wasn't even clean. "Do you steal women's underwear often?"

"No. Just yours."

A laugh meant to convey her shock is far too laced with joy to make it clear that she finds his deeds preposterous. She simply fails at every turn in trying to express that she's a decent woman. He knows it now, probably saw it long ago; that she's the perfect cheval glass to his perversions.

The hand on her hips moves to caress her thigh, and the drowsy stare observes her with growing mischief.

"Ready to go again?"

"Whuh–Again…?"

He takes her hand and moves it right over his cock. It's lean and demanding, and pulses under her palm.

Tall and ugly, she thinks while her walls dare to throb with hunger.

"You make me hard," he says, almost as a whisper, "all the time."

Jesus… There was definitely no rulebook when it came to this guy.

She gets to watch from the bed how he gives her a show as the man finally decides it's time to take his clothes off. The shirt is the first one to go: it flies somewhere on the floor while he holds on to his hood. The sculpted muscle looks even bigger up close, and the plates are covered with thin hair. It runs thicker below the navel, and his thighs are pure power: they surround the sleek length of his cock like trunks of strength when he finally gets himself out of those pants.

The v-shape of his upper body is something she will never get over. Broad shoulders shrink and curve into narrow hips which in turn swell into powerful thighs, and while perhaps this guy wouldn't win the gold medal at a fitness competition – judged by the way he's lean and athletic but not low fat ripped – he certainly is the most beautiful man she has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. He's a demigod with his herculean strength, a titan who's too big for the world of mortals. A tormented Samson who will never be tamed with treachery or tricks.

The bed sags as he crawls back to her like the gentlest predator. Her legs open wide to receive him – a classic missionary feels like the most intimate choice after the faceless pounding she received earlier. He gathers her legs as he proceeds: forces them up, up, almost next to her arms until he's hovering over her exposed pussy.

She should've known that some boring missionary wouldn't satisfy this man at all.

Her eyes drop to her legs and what's between them: she's in no position to do much of anything, but as the tip of his cock – smooth, pristine velvet – slides across her wet folds once more, she rather helplessly tries to drive her hips up to meet him.

It's like she's drunk or in a dream. The scene is wild and filthy: she's plump and spread open, ready for the taking, thighs almost in her ears as he draws his hips back and finds her opening.

"Please be gentle," she begs with a whisper. He halts for a while to lock gazes with her rabbit stare.

"You are pretty when you beg, little one. But I would never hurt you."

She swallows, and her lips part – his gaze instantly falls on her mouth, then raises back to her eyes, gentle and painstakingly ardent. He's close, so terribly close – and not just physically. Her thighs quiver with anticipation as the thick velvet slides in.

Holy fuck–

She savors the spread, and he's gentle, like he promised. The groan that erupts from inside the hood above makes her walls ache. He's so merciful this time, and she wishes to lift the black veil that still keeps them apart, to see his face as he takes her, to see that scar on his jaw and how his mouth hangs open with hunger, just like hers…

His cock comes out all wet – she can hear it – before plunging right back in, and it makes her mewl.

"Oh God…" Her eyes shut tight from the sensation of being so filled. She's even more starved than she thought. It's scary, far scarier than the mass murderer above and inside her.

"You like that?"

He's breathing heavy, and she knows he's looking at her, the distorting face of pleasure, the way she's biting her lip. Tears try to force themselves out from the passionate, featherbrained proximity, from being so tightly knitted together, like a bunch of happy, overstimulated nerves.

"Look at me," he orders, and she opens her eyes like they're under his command and not hers.

"You like it like this?"

She nods with tears in her eyes, and he won't stop looking at her like she's his most prized possession.

"Gut. I will make you scream again."

The man's dreamy stare follows every twitch of a lip, every bat of an eyelash. She looks down briefly to escape that love – the sight of the long thickness disappearing in her while she is so crudely open for him makes her feel dizzy, even when she's lying down.

Some pillow princess…

"Sehr schön," he comments while watching her face which must look like that of a dumb, anesthetized doll. His cock has that effect, and now that he's hovering over her, staring into her soul while filling her, it makes everything even more painful because it's sweet. She's under lazy waves, and decent men seem the most boring thing on earth right now.

"You like my knives?"

"Ah–what…?"

"You stared when I played with my knife."

She knows he has caught her staring more than once and bites her lip again not to blurt out how she had stared when he had played with... other things as well.

"Mh, yeah… It was beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

The sudden waves of intimacy leave her fragile and weak. His stare is nothing short of a caress. She is open and helpless for him to pound to his heart's content, but he's gentle, bordering on loving...

"I can teach you how to play with them."

Jesus Christ, this dude is just crazy.

"Uh-huh," she agrees to it with her mouth hanging open from the overload of sensation. The lewd sound of his cum pushing out of her with every thrust is an obscene background music for this – or any – conversation.

"I have a collection."

Why the hell would he be talking about his knife collection in the middle of–

"I own at least fifty knives. I can show you all of them if you come to my room."

His gaze is at least as piercing as his cock, and she realizes how serious this is: knives are his life. He finds them beautiful too, he collects them and cares for them. They're a profession, but they're also the most important thing in his world.

Knives are his essence.

And he had likened her to a butterfly knife...

"S-sure."

The sound from where they are joined rises to a sluggish crescendo: drowsy, filthy claps of flesh on soaked flesh. He makes her sick and well at the same time: he drags her to hell and raises her to heaven. He's the remedy and the curse. He plays with her like he plays with his knives: ravenous, entranced, obsessed.

She tries to concentrate on too many things at once: that intoxicating voice, the memory of him playing with death, the cock plunging inside her over and over again, making warmth pool below. She imagines him killing people with his collection, picking his tool for the day. He's not the only lunatic here because even the very thought makes her tight around him.

"You are close?"

"König… Just–" she whispers on the cusp of a deeper, soul-rending orgasm.

"You like it when I talk about knives?"

She breathes laboriously and tries to hang onto the last bits of her sanity, but he knows her, knows her already. He weighs down on her until her thighs come to rest right next to her breasts. He's plowing her in a crude angle, indecent and deep. It's vulgar, and she loves it; loves the way he stares at her, all helpless under him.

"Please, I'm gonna–"

"I can show you my guns too."

Ohmygod–

"I'm gonn–ah–!"

She shatters, her walls clench; her pussy sucks him like he's hard candy.

“Sieh dir das an… You were made for me.”

"Nh– Please…"

Her head tosses on the pillow as if in a dream. She's fathomless, and going to pass out, the cock inside her makes her eyes roll back in her head until she sees white, the color of saints.

"Shy girl… Beg for it."

The voice that answers his command is not that of a shy girl; it's not hers at all. She hears it from underwater, and her reality consists solely of the man filling her, spreading her, transforming her from an angel into something deliciously wicked.

Please, just–

It's not her voice, and yet it does sound everything like her. It begs, mewls a plea after the other in a string of helpless little whimpers.

Don't stop, please pleaseplease…

"Besser als jedes Messer…" he rasps, more darkly now. "You drive me crazy, Engel."

A chant arises in her head: she has sinned and there's no turning back. He feels far better than any promise of heaven. She could never have guessed that being cast out would feel so good.

His release comes with a tight rip, he goes taut like in that shower, only ten times more desperate. The hiss under the hood turns into a pained, strained roar of a grunt. The first time was foreplay, a quick one: this is true release. She almost hopes she would faint as the whole body of the Austrian titan goes hard as a rock. She couldn't be more spent and used, and still, her pussy answers his godly essence by clenching around him, pulling him in like he's the best man there is.

The man of her dreams, the man from her worst nightmares...

His eyes are liquid, the waterline twitches. She sees behind the walls, a millisecond's worth of fragility before his head drops, and the muscles are released from the violent trance. Broad shoulders cage her in like she's suddenly deep inside a mountain pass. Spent and dead and gone, there's no hurry any longer: he is buried deep inside and throbs whatever leftovers he has to give her.

She's filled to the brim, crushed under his weight, banished: and it's only delicious, the feeling of her body disappearing somewhere in the depths of the bed he has plowed her into. She waits dutifully as the man gathers himself, even gets brave enough to touch him. The masked face is buried somewhere in her neck, and his stomach ripples with a few shivers as her hand runs down his spine.

"I want to do this every day," he declares softly while panting through the thick fabric of his self-made shield. She feels pure horror and thrill in her chest.

To do this every day… She will eventually break, like a toy that has been used too much. She's not made of steel like those butterfly knives used mainly for playing.

"König, this is crazy… We're crazy," she tries to put into words the unholy mess raging inside her. He snorts before releasing her from the absurd position. The weight of him leaves her empty as he pulls out, then drags his way beside her to gather her back into his arms.

"Don't be ashamed, little one," he coos through the mask. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Two rounds of intense sex have liberated him, the manic terror has turned into a strange compassion. The look in his eyes is magnanimous and tender, almost droopy. She feels weightless and timid, an angel once more.

"We belong together, you and I," he states with conviction that sends sweet dread inside her heart. "Don't worry. You will never be lonely again."

Her fate is sealed, and she fears a big, fat knife will cut her heartstrings too if she tries to escape his protection. Her jaw trembles at the prospect of him returning to her every day to fuck her bare after an adrenaline high on the field. She sees a future of tears and sweat and cum, a beast lulled into sleep amidst a withering sea of flowers and torn lace.

She tries to find the right words, hopes he will be swift and merciful in his execution.

König, please…

It's not the hood, it's–

"Everyone fears me," he sighs beside her. "I'm glad you don't."

#könig x reader #könig x female reader #könig x you #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #konig x reader #könig mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #mw2 x reader #yandere könig #könig imagine

3K notes · View notes

signedkoko · 5 months

Note

Heyo! I return!!!!

Could I get a mammon, blitzø and alastor (separate) with a wife reader who’s really oblivious and ditzy? Sorta like a bimbo?

🦷 anon! <33333

Alastor | Blitzo | Mammon [Romantic]

In which their partner is extremely oblivious and ditzy.

Well, that's what he was here for, isn't it?

To make it look like you know what you're doing, to be the reason or you little 'show'

According to the public eye, if you're his partner then theres no way it's not a character, Alastor would NEVER date a clutz, let alone have the patience for one

Alastor found these little whispers amusing

Everyone thought they had some idea of what he was, but they were always throwing darts at the wrong board

All the better for him, he gets the joy of you making every day new and exciting as well as the strange rumours people came up with about the two of you

Everyone else was just so boring, so pitiful to the overlord

Either kneeling to his every wish, or putting on a face until he left them alone, or the rare run away screaming

But when you bumped into him on the street, you asked him if he was that 'one guy who tortured people and put it online' before you even apologized

Then you asked if he would kill you, and when he said yes, you asked if he could not

Oh yes, that made him laugh alright, you were such a cracking star

Anytime you might ask something stupid, he turns it into a joke and explain it to you later behind closed doors

Falling? tripping over yourself? He catches you and makes it look like a romantic dip, or a small dance

To him, you're cluelessness has its charm, because you've always been so honest and forward about everything that he doesn't ever feel like he has to pull secrets from you

You also amuse his every little quirk, which everyone else just finds weird, so that's a major plus

Oh my god he is so stupid

But you make him look so smart it's insane, just add you to the room and suddenly he's a genius

At first, it was just by comparison, but now in order to compensate for you he is always trying his best to be the smartest he can be

Especially in his line of work, Blitzo doesn't like the idea of making a mistake that could cost your life

So instead he trains to make sure he can save you when you need it

You guys are very damsel in distress/knight in shining armour

Except this kind of backfires because him being so serious starts to get him caught a lot...and you always manage to get him out (usually by mistake)

Like that one time you busted into a room full of 20 armed demons and dropped your gun when they came at you, but it went off and landed in a crate of explosives

I mean both of you were very injured but you both got out soooo

" You really are the dumbest slut I know, my sweetie-pie. "

He gets really defensive about you, though

Sure, he’s your husband so he can make fun of you

But if anyone else calls you anything along the lines of stupid or useless he blows up on them

Sure, you're a bit oblivious, but they don't know your talents, and all the things you teach him behind closed doors

He won't let anyone get away with being cruel to you

A little bit of a roger rabbit and jessica rabbit duo

Honestly exactly his type

Extremely wealthy husband and his bimbo wife?

The newspaper headlines go crazy for you guys and your strange duo, and a lot of photos of the two of you together are popular

Sort of funny looking tree man and his dolled up wifey

He's not really the brightest either, not when it comes to simple things that don't have to do with money or his status

So you are both very oblivious to things that aren't entirely straightforward and always have to whisper back and forth about a topic until you can figure it out

Two idiots in love

Nevertheless, he loves your dependance on him

He likes that you are always by his side in case you need help, so you are safe and sound

He's just as clingy as you are, he always has one arm around your waist

Calls you all sorts of sort of derogatory pet names but in a loving way

Dolly, sweetheart, gorgeous, legs, etc etc

Honestly though you are also probably explaining as much to him as he is you, just in different topics

But he has the confidence to go with his lack of knowledge and obliviousness

And confidence gets you far

" Yeah, like, the moon is full once a week or some shit "

" Isn't it once a month? "

" No doll, that's how often a blue moon occurs. "

" Ohh! Like once in a blue moon? "

Anyone overhearing this shit is fucking rolling in their grave

Author's Note - Hiii welcome back tooth anon!!! Sorry this took a hot min, for some reaosn this prompt was so hard for me but I REFUSED to give up (Never sleep never what!?!?!) Thank you for requesting, and I hope you enjoy!

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #blitzo #blitzo x reader #mammon #mammon x reader

2K notes · View notes

ymechi · 6 months

Text

The hidden creator

I had a plot bunny idea

TW: usual cult stuff, hints of yandere

-gn reader (I tried making it gender-neutral if there is a comment that is off please tell me and I will fix it)

EDIT: 14/11/2023 (changed some wording and other stuff nothing major)

Creator Reader Pov:

-You were just a regular person who one day woke up in Teyvat out of all places

-You realized you still had all your game features and figured it was one of the perks of being isekaied like in other isekai stories

-The whole thing is weird and why you were here, you had no idea

-After the novelty wears off you take some time mourning the loss of your previous life and the people you knew

-After that you try to get a semblance of a normal life like getting a job and trying to be independent

-Despite having a game system you do not want to be an adventurer or learn how to fight it's not for you

-You were previously an average civilian and raised as one it would be hard to become a fighter now

-Instead you gravitated towards creating things, you found an apprentice position in a clockwork shop in Fontaine

-It is fun and you get to tinker with gears and clocks, learning how various machines work and how to create your own items

-overall you are content

-Except weird people occasionally come by the shop you work at including the Iudex of Fontaine which had both you and the shopkeeper sweating the first few times

-Yet the man who insisted you call him by his name Neuvilette is really polite and nice to talk to, soon you warmed up to him

-You could not help the feeling as if you knew him from before, as if you forgot something, you were unusually fond of him.

-Your other "clients" if you could call them that were more intimidating, you had no idea what they were doing in this shop and it scared you

-The Fatui Harbringers occasionally stopped by the shop to buy a trinket or two before leaving, it honestly scared you and the thaught of running away to another nation had crossed your mind once or twice yet you liked your job and your boss and you made some good friends here so it was hard to leave

-Overall you were doing okay

-Except it seems the people here almost in a cult-like manner worship a creator that was never in the game lore

-It is said they resided in Celestia and not many people actually got to see them, not that it mattered for a nobody like you

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tsaritsa Pov:

-The Tsaritsa knew their so called creator was fake

-She knew she had to get rid of the fake creator as they and Celestia had caused irreparable damage

-Even if she had to stain her hands

-One day it happened something shifted in the earth, air, water- no the whole of Teyvat

-It happened so softly like a small snowflake landing on the ground

-She was hypnotized as if a siren was beckoning her she found you.

-You were their true creator

-You were wearing apprenticeship clothes tinkering with something in your hands and deeply concentrated

-She wondered if that is how you created the universe with careful and steady hands guiding and shaping it to your will.

-She wanted to take you away from this. . . small shop, yet she knew begrudgingly you were safe here, if anyone were to find out a sliver of your existence. . .

-You were safer hidden among mortals

-It left a bitter taste in her mouth

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neuvilette Pov

-It just happened one day, out of the blue, he could feel it in the shift of the waters

-The way Furina shifted and turned her head unable to sit still confirmed he was not the only one feeling this

-Something happened and he had no idea what exactly happened

-There was this familiar presence this comforting feeling, ancient old instincts waking up

-He followed it without thought until he came upon an in inconspicuous clockwork shop

-He was confused but did not hesitate to step inside

-Then he saw you and everything clicked

-It was you his creator his universe his everything

-You were back

-It seems in this incarnation you were just a human

-That was fine he was oaky with that as long as you were here

-His heart ached seeing you

-He wanted to hug and ask you to never leave again to always stay by his side, for you to comfort him after what had happened and console him

-He should take you way somewhere safer somewhere better not here-

-But weren't you safer hiding among mortals, a part of his mind whispered, no one would suspect you being here even the fake (he cursed them) would not think of finding you here, if he brought you back with him it would create more attention on you

-Attention that would cause you trouble

-He left with defeat on his steps

-It was later he would met the Tsaritsa and a deal was struck

-All for your sake

#genshin impact #sagau #self aware au #self aware genshin #neuvillette #the tsaritsa #fatui harbringers #fatui #cult au #slight yandere #I am too lazy to proofread it right now sorry for any mistakes #this was just some random idea tbh #the creator reader has no idea they are the creator they just wana tinker with clockworks #neuvilette genshin #when will we get more Tsaritsa lore mihoyo plz-#would you guys think that Pantalone would buy out the whole stock whenever it is his turn to visit?

1K notes · View notes

basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 7 days

Note

Hello!!! I have a request if that’s okay with you. 💕

Would you maybe write a Spencer x quiet!reader? Where she doesn’t have the courage to talk to him because she’s too shy?

I don’t really have a plot in mind so that’s up to you!! I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any ideas but hopefully it lets you write whatever you want. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And I read your other stories, you’re so underrated and amazing I love your wording when you write. 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi Mary!! Thank you so much for your kind words c:

I did my best c: I hope you like it!

Round Table (Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader (if not gn please let me know, but I'm fairly certain it is!)

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, but besides that none?

A/N: this was so fun c: i am really enjoying challenging myself with your guys' requests. hope you enjoy!!

------

You were an incredibly anxious person, which, honestly, was okay. You tried not to let your anxiety hinder your life too much, but like any other human being, sometimes it got in the way. It was frustrating, sure, knowing that a situation would be so much easier if you weren’t so anxious about it, but you reminded yourself often that you weren’t perfect, and neither was anyone else.

Some people were afraid of heights, of the ocean, of needles. Some people had trouble going out into crowds or grew overstimulated in public places.

You? You were painfully shy. There was always an adjustment period to being around new people.

Baristas, the bus driver, pharmacy techs, cashiers at the grocery store - you did just fine. But those were one-time interactions, brief discussions that you could compartmentalize.

They came with a script to follow, with cue cards already queued up in your head as they occurred. You could put on an emotional mask for five minutes while the nurse at the clinic gave you a flu shot. You could smile and speak in your special voice labeled Getting Coffee, an octave higher than you usually spoke, in order to acquire your much-needed beverage. There was a clear goal in mind with each of these dialogues. Sure, you didn’t present as the most confident person in the world, but you always made it through conversations like these without stumbling over your words or being too terribly awkward.

You didn’t succeed as much with deeper connections, with ones that took time to cultivate. You were a guarded person to begin with, with only a handful of people you felt truly close to. Vulnerability had always been difficult for you, but you supposed you were in the majority on that front. It took a while to become comfortable around coworkers, extended family, hell, even your therapist. You had to have time to adjust, to settle in.

A lot of people in your life thought you were just socially awkward or even an agoraphobe, but you didn’t mind being around people. It was the intimacy, the connection, the having to give away little pieces of yourself, that made you anxious. It kept you from participating in conversations most of the time, usually only speaking unless spoken to.

You liked your job as a linguistics and handwriting analyst in the FBI for that very reason. You didn’t have to say much to people unless it was related to a case. With a clear goal in mind, a threat to neutralize, you could turn on that mechanical part of your brain that spouted off facts, information, theories. You didn’t have to tell anyone about your weekend, about your hopes and dreams or your favorite foods.

You were consulting on a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit - a serial killer who stalked his victims months before their murders, sending handwritten letters and using poetry to taunt them. Your supervisor had asked you to collaborate with the BAU, sending you to the sixth floor on your own.

For the last two days, you’d been working closely with Dr. Spencer Reid - Spencer, he insisted you call him. Just a couple of years older than you, but still very young for his role in the FBI. He was friendly, and very smart, and he rambled on about all kinds of things -

Everything, actually. The Chinese food you’d had for lunch on the first day? He explained the origin of fortune cookies. Did you know their first appearance in the US was in San Francisco in the late 1800s?

Pointing out a Dickinson line in one of the UnSub’s letters? Did you know only ten of Emily Dickinson’s poems were actually published when she was alive and the rest were posthumous?

You often just nodded along and smiled, occasionally throwing in an oh, that’s very interesting to appear as an active listener. And you were an active listener. You did genuinely think he was interesting, and you found his info dumps to be incredibly endearing. But your contributions to the conversation were abysmal in comparison.

Beyond discussing patterns in the UnSub’s letters and what it might mean for each victim, you had no other fascinating information to share. You didn’t do well with small talk, and Spencer didn’t ask you any overtly personal questions.

It wasn’t until close to the end of the second day spent in the conference room of the BAU’s office that Spencer asked you a direct question about yourself.

There were three evidence boards set up, all full of scanned copies of the letters, each one pinned up meticulously by you and Spencer the day before. The large round table in the room had letters stacked out all around it, each one bagged in protective plastic.

Spencer was standing in front of the evidence boards with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the photocopies with his head inclined to the side.

He broke the silence you had been slowly settling into the past two days. “Your supervisor said you had a specialization in poetry?”

You nodded, stepping over to the table and carefully lifting one of the letters up. You liked how he spoke as if you two were in the middle of a conversation, when in fact, it had been totally silent for the past half an hour, save for the soft puttering of the air conditioning vent.

“Studied a lot in undergrad,” you squeaked out, clearing your throat as you held the letter up the fluorescent light above you to examine the stationary.

“What university did you attend?” Spencer asked, and you turned your head to find him inclining his head to the side. He actually wanted to know?

“I went to Bennington College to study poetry,” you said softly, suddenly finding it difficult to focus on the letter in your hand. “But I went to graduate school at Georgetown. Master’s in Linguistics.”

“Really? That’s fascinating,” Spencer commented, which caught you by surprise, especially because he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. “That combination of degrees is exceedingly rare. Generally people who major in poetry often either go on to complete as far up as a doctorate in the subject or they stop at a Bachelor’s degree. The latter statistically don’t end up working in a field related to poetry, either, so their degree is basically useless.”

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended by that, so instead you just nodded your head politely. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“Can I ask you another question?” Spencer asked, and set the letter in your hand down on the table. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your shirt and nodded. “Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head. “No,” you said assuredly, and then, a little more hesitantly, “…why would you ask me that?”

Spencer turned to face you. “You’re just very quiet unless we’re discussing the case. Which is fine, of course, but I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were annoyed by me or I said something to offend you.”

You felt guilt spread over you and your cheeks turned pink. The last thing you’d wanted was to make anyone feel bad who didn’t deserve it. And the very kind, helpful, and adorable Dr. Spencer Reid was the furthest from deserving to feel bad.

“I just don’t talk a lot,” you tried to explain. Your hand rubbed the spot where the top of your chest met the skin of your neck, an anxious habit you’d had for years. “I mean, I do with people I know, and that’s not to say I dominate the conversation by any means, but I just…” you realized you were rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you added, your voice just above a whisper.

“Thank you,” Spencer’s lips flickered into a straight-lined smile, one you had seen several times over the past few days, often when unintentional eye contact was made across the table. “For clarifying, I mean, that I didn’t offend you.” He cleared his throat, and leaned against the round table, standing just a few feet from you. Still a very professional and comfortable distance, but closer than he had been before. “So, does that mean that if we got to know each other, you’d talk more?” The corners of his lips spread out and his smile grew.

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the letter in your hand, the protective plastic around it crinkling between your fingers. You weren’t actually looking at the letter, though. You’d just needed somewhere - anywhere - else to look. “That’s generally how it goes,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“So, if I were to, for example, ask you to meet me for dinner sometime, could the getting to know each other happen there?”

Your eyes fluttered over to Spencer’s and you saw him smiling. You could tell by how he looked at you, with his head inclined just slightly to the side, that he was being fully serious. You nodded, unable to control the small smile on your face.

Spencer grinned, and you could tell he couldn’t resist when he spoke again. “So, is that a yes?”

#spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert

564 notes · View notes

lovingksuki · 1 month

Text

✰ SECRET ADMIRER pt.2

— highschoolers bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: an anonymous love letter appears in your locker on valentine's day. surprised, you and your best friend start an investigation to uncover who was that person observing you from afar. meanwhile, a flushed bakugo tries to ruin your plans on the undercover alongside his shitty-haired buddy

cw: sfw; mostly fluff; lil angst; very insecure bakugo; romantic comedy; puberty; silly jokes; little swearing.

an: guyyyyss it's hereeee. i hope you enjoy since i had many people asking for me to continue with this. i hope it is as good as the first part that btw you can read here

wc: 1,3k

the two went on a mission walking around the school and very non-suspiciously investigating whose hand that might be.

"i'm telling you! there's sato, iida and..." counted.

"are they even suspects!?" you mocked. "we have to be coherent about it. i don't even have a major relationship with them..."

"how could you possibly know what goes on inside other's head? i think you're being biased about it."

"what do you mean?"

"i know you want it to be one of the hottest in our class!" smiled diabolically.

"i have no idea what you're talking about." you sweated.

"maybe we should call that double colored guy and just ask a few questions..."

"no way... what are you insinuating?" you almost screamed truly shocked.

"that you have a slight cru-"

"I don't have a crush."

"admit it already."

"I'm not admitting anything. quit pestering."

"you're no fun at all. so... are we talking to Todoroki any soon?"

"no."

"psst, isn't that sero coming this way?" mina whispered looking ahead of the corridor.

the duo telepathically agreed to their next move and mina quickly went in action.

"hey, if isn't our fave tape boy! can I have a high-five?" the pink cheered lifting her hand.

the jet-black haired guy smiled playfully slapping hands with her. watching everything, you caught that glimpse of time needed to take conclusions on the survey.

"what are you two up to? feeling extra energetic today..." sero stated.

absorbed in your own thoughts, you simply couldn't answer any of the questions made, so pinky said in advance: "we're just too excited for the... the-"

"for what?"

"the new movie...! yeah! that one with the clowns. everyone is so hyped to watch it!" mina came up with some excuse.

"oh, so you like 'bloody nightmare' series too? man, me and denki are gathering people to go watch with us." he cheered.

you and mina eyed each other nervously while sero kept rambling about horror films. pinky swiftly poked your side sending the 'make him shut up' signal and you quickly catch the message saying:

"y-yeah! it would be super cool, but we need to... to... go to the 1b room! to dis- discuss the next match-"

"we're discussing the teams for the next training match!" mina rapidly came with an excuse ready to push you up the corridor. "see ya!"

"but guys... their class is towards the other side." sero warned confusedly.

"r-right! it's been months, but we still get lost... hehe!" mina sweated. she spotted a purple voluminous hair meters away. "shinso! wait up!"

and you runned away. sero chuckled observing the girls as another duo approached.

"'sup pal?" kirishima greeted. "it's a important matter so, could you share what are the girls planning? we have business with them."

"it's no use, we're gonna lose sight of them." said the blonde ready to walk away, but his buddy was fast to grab his shirt stopping his tracks.

"be reasonable, it's creepy to chase them around the school." eijiro whispered.

"what are you two up to?" sero crossed arms curious about the situation.

"nothing particularly important. girly borrowed something from bakugo." his heart he thought slightly laughing. "did them say anything about where they're heading?" asked.

"mina said they have something to do with class 1b, and i think they left with shinso." sero explained.

"not that eraserhead wannabe..." katsuki gritted teeth.

"well, no time to lose then! thanks dude." kirishima dragged his best friend away.

when the two males finally found the duo they were shocked to see you holding shinso's hand while walking

kirishima panicked turning to the blonde who watched that scene petrified. it was the second time eijiro saw that expression on his face, the first was when they watched all might last fight. that expression that indicates he started malfunctioning, his thoughts are running wild, and he is about to break.

when he finally inhaled, kirishima's heart skipped a beat thinking bakugo would explode at any moment. he prepared himself to restrain his friend from murdering somebody or start yelling like a psycho, but bakugo just hollowed his lungs right after.

watching deadpanned as you walked away giggling.

that behavior... it was truly concerning coming from him.

"are you totally sure?" mina whispered excited.

"it's a great probability, didn't you see that monstrosity of a hand!?" you whisper-exclaimed. "his grip almost crushed mine!"

"okay, but let's don't get ahead of ourselves, there's other boys to analyze." mina said carefully.

"right, but he's a suspect! and did you notice how he didn't hesitate or felt uneasy to hold my hand?"

"i'm not jumping to conclusions but he seemed too chill! it's almost unnatural coming from a person who wrote a love letter." mina spoke wisely.

"you're right." you pouted.

"what am i suspect about? love letter!?"

"aaaaaack! for fucks sake!" you and mina jolted. "y-you heard us?" you asked shyly.

"were you eavesdropping!?" mina confronted.

the boy leaned in the doorframe crossing his arms unphazed by the pink's attitude. "you're not even whispering... some of 1b even heard about how i have big ass hands and shit." he chuckled.

you looked over shinso's shoulder only to encounter monoma, kendo, shiozaki and komori confusedly observing at some distance. "h-hey guys..." and kendo smiled amused.

"he caught us, mina. what do we do?" you said fidgety.

"there's no other way now that he knows our secret. we must kill you." mina stated creepily serious to shinso, making him falter.

"ha. you almost got me there." he laughed mindlessly. after a couple of seconds staring at each other he came to realization. " you're joking,,, right?"

"why did you have to scare him like that? what if he go out telling others?"

"it's quite the opposite. he won't tell anyone if he believes it's confidential information. you can question my methods but not my results!" the pink girl explained confidently.

walking down the corridor in search for another male friend. now that the lunchtime was coming to an end the school was less fuzzy, and the groups concentrated in their usual places.

"uh... mina... you're not actually dangerous, are you?" you blurted.

she looked at you puzzled, as if that question was more complicated than it actually seemed. "why do you ask?"

"it's just because, you're my best friend, and if it were for me to have a psycho so close to me i would want to know..." you reasoned.

"don't be ridiculous!" she laughed. "but like you said, we're best friends, that does mean i would probably hide a body for you."

"wait. what the-"

"kirishima it's been thirty minutes." the blonde stated impatiently.

the boys were sitting casually at their class waiting for the others to come grab their keys to the closets. p.e was the next hour.

"just be patient dude, when she arrives, you casually get up and go talk to her. do you remember the three steps?" the red haired pointed.

"don't scream, don't curse and look at her in the eye." bakugo grumbled a little skeptical.

when they heard high pitched voices and footsteps approaching the blonde jolted in his seat.

"there they are." kirishima whispered. "good luck soldier"

katsuki got up with a sigh, heart beating fast, he didn't even notice his feet leading him directly to you and almost fainted when you looked at him with those doe eyes.

"h-hey."

"hey!" you greeted rummaging your backpack.

"i was... i recalled that time last week you shared your notes and... i"

"you came to say thanks? it's alrighty! just gimme a shoutout whenever you need!" you smiled

his ears reddened. "y-yeah. but i was trying to ask if ya wanna grab milkshakes sometimes, my treat for the notes." katsuki managed to spill

"oh! i didn't expect that" you giggled thinking that was a cute way to invite someone to hang out. "sure. i provide the notes, you provide the milkshakes." you extended your hand "deal?"

he smirked satisfied shaking you hand.

"deal."

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x fem!reader #self insert #mha fluff #mha fanfiction #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #my hero academia

462 notes · View notes

star-anise · 2 years

Text

This is what the fight is like

Sooo, apparently the extremely tenuous and recent nature of the LGBTQ+ community's legal right to exist was not actually super widely known to a lot of people on Tumblr?

Which clarifies some stuff in retrospect. I have so often wanted to grab people by their lapels and shout, "Stop picking on someone for not meeting your entry requirements! We need everyone we can get, you asshole! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THEY HATE US OUT THERE?"

Aaaapparently... no, they did not know. Or they knew and were a conservative psyop preparing the ground for our loss of legal rights. Fun times!

So: Look, it is bad. Shit is scary. They really do hate us out there. You're not wrong.

But: This is what we've always fought. This boat we're in with its antique fittings and strange markings on the floor is a battleship. Work has always been going on in the basements, and when shit gets tough, we clear away clutter and roll out the cannons.

I found this chart a couple weeks ago and hung onto it because it felt like the map to my first 25 years on this earth:

[Image description: A graph titled "Same Sex Marriage: Public Polls since 1988." It is from FiveThirtyEight's NYT column. It records the percentage of US Americans polled who would say yes or no to legalizing same-sex marriage, from 1988 to 2011.

The two lines begin with roughly 10% saying yes in 1988, and 70% saying no; the two lines gradually draw closer over the years, until by 2011, the percent saying finally dips under 50%, and the group saying yes makes a tentative reach for the majority. End of image description.]

After some great social change has happened, when everyone has admitted that gay marriage is very cute and Pride is a colourful parade, hooray, people like to pretend that it was just natural and inevitable and happened on its own. People just became less prejudiced! Courts just decided on a case! Governments just passed a law!

In reality, it was a vicious fucking fight, every fucking time. Every fucking where. There are a lot of people who deeply, sincerely believe that a hundred years ago, society had good rules about sex and gender and intercourse and marriage, and that changing those rules has made the world worse. They don't always agree on the specifics, but they can work together far enough to fight anyone with new ideas.

This is why we are a community. Even when we don't have the same experiences of attraction or identity, even when we don't do the same things, even when we have wildly different ideas of a good time. Because when these groups take aim, we're all under fire, and none of us is responsible for why they hate us.

In some ways I think it's a miracle that there seems to be a generation that did not grow up, as I grew up, constantly glued to news reports about What Percentage of Society Hates Us this month. I can't imagine who I'd be if my brain and heart and soul hadn't been tied up, that whole time, in the political question of whether I'd get to dream of a decent future.

I think that it will give us strength to have people who can imagine a world where no one hates us. Who believe in it so strongly they can taste it. That's my prediction: If you didn't know this was coming, you'll be a boon to us, because we have always needed joy so fiercely, in this fight, to keep us going on. We have needed drag queens and punk bands and "her wife" and safe space stickers. Parade floats and wedding days and little dogs with rainbow collars, badges and banners and meetups, because more than anything else we need to fight our own despair, and our fear that the world will never get any better than this.

It will. We know it will. We can taste it.

Look up to the history, organizations, and people who've got us this far for information on what forms of activism will actually advance our political goals. Look to the side to make sure the comrades within reach are keeping their heads above water, and that you're keeping enough joy going to stay alive. Look back to see who's more vulnerable than you are that you might have forgotten or been tempted to leave behind. Look after each other. Look after yourself.

We can do this.

To your battle stations.

#lgbt discourse #staranise original

9K notes · View notes

sunsetkerr · 2 months

Text

JESSIE'S BABY | j. fleming

summary: a brief introduction to 'baby' and her relationship with jessie

pairing: fem!reader x jessie fleming

notes: first piece for baby!!!!!!!! she's so much fun and I can't wait to write more for her and jessie, because she is just a joy. big sorority girl on campus, our queen, our leader, our baby.

jessie never thought that she would get entangled with a sorority girl

but... spoiler!!! then you came along

jessie majored in materials engineering and environmental science

right she considered herself a total nerd in that retrospect

but she just finds it all so interesting!!!

so one day she meets a girl in one of her classes who is a sister of one of the UCLA sororities

her name is nina

they hit it off, it's great

jessie has finally made a close friend at college

so after a few months of them being friends, jessie is finally invited to the sorority house for a party

and she is NOT having it

she doesn't like to party

she doesn't like to hold eye contact for more than five seconds

and she hates talking to strangers

but after lots of begging

jessie admits defeat and comes along

she spent hours getting ready and deciding on what she should wear in front of a bunch of sorority girls

something pink? or is that too cliche

she ended up going with the first outfit she tried on

a UCLA athletics t-shirt and some jeans

shes so insecure and not loving life

jessie has to hype herself up to even leave her dorm room and travel

and then when she gets there and sees people everywhere she calls Nina low-key freaking out

like please come get me im too scared to come inside alone vibes

nina comes out with a gaggle of other girls following her

jessie is still on edge but feeling more calm as she meets all of these girls she was with

they seemed nice enough and they instantly invited her inside to play beer pong with them

they head inside and jessie realises that it was 10x more crazy inside than it was on the front lawn

she is shoving her way through the crowd as politely as she can without losing the group of girls in front of her

but jessie eventually is cut off by a guy chasing his friend with a beer and loses the group

shes left alone in this big sorority house with no idea where she is

jessie gets out her phone to try and call Nina again, but before she can a voice interrupts

"I love your jeans!"

she looks up and came face to face with the closest thing she thinks she will ever see to a god

you were standing there, a pink dress on to match the decor and your hair and makeup done perfectly

jessie is at a stand still

she doesn't know what to do or what to say

completely taken back by you

"I was looking at buying a similar pair last week, where did you get yours from?"

you finally look up at meet her eyes, and jessie didn't think she could fall more in love with someone

but she did

she finally managed to stutter out 'th-they're from a store in Canada.. encircled, I think"

and then you respond with some long-winded sentence about how you've never been to canda but would have always loved to

and about your jeans

and about her jeans and how much you like them

and about the party and if she's enjoying it

jessie's glad that you take the reins on the conversation because she was still too busy trying to recollect herself after making eye contact with you

she doesn't know how it happens

and maybe it's because you're so outgoing you don't even notice how awkward she's being

but you spend the entire night together

jessie ends up telling you that she knows nina

you tell her that nina just happens to be your roommate

you talk about her degree, she asks about yours

she finally works up the courage to say that she likes your dress

the look on your face was so genuine people could have thought that you have never been complemented before

you really were so beautiful, the most radiant person she had ever seen

jessie watched in awe the entire night as you floated around the house, dragging her along in tow

you never failed to introduce her to anyone

"this is my new friend, jessie" "jessie's from Canada" "jessie is on the soccer team, she's really good too"

the way you complemented her even though you had never even seen her on the pitch made her heart flutter

you ended up inviting jessie to crash in your dorm at the end of the night

but she got too shy, saying she was happy to walk back to her dorm

so you walked back with her

you were the most fearless person that she had ever met

so ready to talk to anyone about anything

too friendly for your own good

too kind and too beautiful

it was almost unfair really

you both became fast friends after that night

you took jessie's phone one night and put your number in it

you texted every day since

the first soccer game that she played after meeting you, you were there in the stands cheering her on

possibly one of the loudest people there

you managed to get everyone chanting for jessie after she scored in the second half

you had this natural affinity for talking to people and making connections

she envied you in that retrospect

you were convinced that jessie had the same effect on people

she just didn't believe you really

you both would spend time studying talking in the library together

back and forth between each others dorm rooms

your sisters joked that jessie would need to pledge if she kept spending so much time at the sorority

jessie knew that she liked girls, had never ever told anyone about it

it was her biggest secret

but she knew that she loved you

you were so different to any other girl that she had laid eyes on

you made existing easier

jessie’s teammates started to notice the difference in her too

she had never been a loud or cocky teammate

but since you started coming to games she found that little bit of extra faith in herself

she scored more, played better and showed off a little more

they chalked it up to you bringing her out of her shell

people were confused by your friendship at first

future sorority president best friends with a engineering major???? unheard of really

but it soon became clear that you guys were a package deal

you were invited to a party? Jessie was coming

jessie had a bonfire with her teammates? it was assumed that you would be bringing marshmallows to toast come sunset

you both were rarely seen without the other

and that became your new normal

you had never spoken to jessie about any guys that you were interested in, but had never mentioned any girls either

so she wasn't sure for ages what your sexuality was

but when you organised a pride parade on campus and showed up with two little flags painted on your cheeks- she finally got that confirmation.

and it was as you painted two little flags of her own colours onto her face that she went for it

jessie fleming kissed you

little shy awkward nerdy jessie just came out and kissed you

I mean.. you weren't complaining

afterwards she was an apologetic mess

"oh my god, I'm so sorry" "that was so not okay of me" "I totally crossed a boundary there" "I am so so sorry" "I'll go"

but when you grabbed her face and told her to "shut up, fleming" and kissed her again it was like everything just kinda made sense?

jessie had never been more content in her life

no goal, or win, or trophy could ever top that first kiss with you

you were her baby, completely untouchable

#jessie's baby . * • .#headcanons . * • .#jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming #jessie fleming imagine #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso x reader

350 notes · View notes

demonpiratehuntress · 5 months

Text

dreams

OPLA!Zoro x F!Reader

summary - majority of your dreams seem to manifest in the real world somehow, so when you have one about your crush and your best friend...things get a little out of control.

warnings - heavy angst (im sorry), hurt to comfort

a/n: when i started writing for this fandom i PROMISED myself i would not make it all angst and no fun, but oh well :))))) idek where this idea came from, i need help

You woke up from a nap with the sickening urge to empty your stomach overboard. Nausea reared its ugly head, and before you could even try to tame the feeling, you were sprinting to the side of the ship to empty your stomach.

What exactly was the cause?

This would sound insanely ridiculous, and to you it really was, but you had a weird dream. And it didn't sit well with you. Most of the dreams you had often became a reality, albeit with slight changes. There were some that didn't, but almost all of them came true eventually or manifested in a similar way at some point.

And that's probably the reason you couldn't stop yourself from vomiting obscenely before your stunned - and confused - crew.

"(Name), are you okay?" Nami asked worriedly, coming over to you.

You flinched away from her, increasing her confusion, before turning and running off to the bathroom. She exchanged looks with the others who were out on deck - Usopp and Luffy - before shrugging it off and going back to mapping the ship's course.

The truth was, you had a completely unexpected yet maddening dream while napping, one that you prayed to any god who would listen would not come true. You had dreamed of Zoro - the man you had the biggest crush on - and Nami, which may seem an odd coupling and probably was but you couldn't control your dreams. Much like how you couldn't control how you felt about it, despite it only being a fictional idea your mind concocted.

You went straight to yours and Nami's room after cleaning yourself up, setting up the divider that separated your section from hers so you wouldn't have to deal with seeing her if she came in. Your behaviour was unfair to her, since you knew she would never do anything like that, nor did she have any romantic interest in Zoro. In fact, she barely had any interest in the swordsman at all. But according to your dream, that might change.

You curled up on your bed, pulling the blanket right up over your head to shield yourself from the real world. The familiar feeling of something wet running down your cheek informed you that you had started crying, but you couldn't care less. You couldn't move. You didn't have the energy to move, much less bring your hand up to wipe your tears away. So you just lay there, curled up in a foetal position, trying - and miserably failing - to get your mind off it.

A while later, a knock at your door caused you to jerk up in your bed, before you groaned and flopped back down.

"Go away!"

"Nami said you're sick," came Sanji's voice, "So I made you some soup. Please open the door."

You breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't either of the two people you were currently trying to avoid. Slowly dragging yourself out of bed, you had to make even more effort to get yourself to the door. Forgetting that you had just been crying, you opened it and let the cook in, confused when his expression immediately grew alarmed.

"(Name), why are you crying??" He immediately set the soup down and pulled you into a comforting hug - one that seemed to be much warmer than usual right now.

"I-I'm fine," you mumbled into his shoulder, "Just not well."

He nodded, falling for your excuse, before pulling away to hand you the soup, "Here, this should help. If you need more, or if you need anything else, just let me know." He smiled at you, before leaving you alone once again.

You sat back down on your bed and ate the soup - because who can say no to Sanji's cooking, even if you're not really in the mood to eat? And it did help, the warmth helping to settle your queasy stomach and alleviate the nausea if only a little bit. Minutes after you finished it, there was another knock and you frowned, wondering who it was now.

You didn't answer, in fear of it being Zoro.

Just the thought of Zoro had you replaying that dream all over again, and before you could stop yourself or at least soften the sound, sobs were wracking your body and you were burying your face in your hands, crying into their warmth.

The door opened and a familiar set of heavy footsteps reached your ears before the bed dipped beside you. Your entire body froze up, tensing at the arrival of the green-haired swordsman. Your sobs fell silent, hiccups replacing them as you stilled and tried your best to quell your sadness - still keeping your face hidden.

"What happened?" Came that usually-comforting deep voice you loved so much, but that now caused your nausea to return. "What's wrong, (Name)?"

"Please go away," you found yourself speaking, not wanting to push him away but knowing you'd feel even more ridiculous if he found out how you felt about him while you were recounting a silly dream.

"No."

Usually the swordsman would leave without a word if you asked for space, or if you told him to go away, but this time he could see you were absolutely not okay and you needed someone. Luffy wouldn't be a good idea, Usopp wouldn't know what to do, and you seemed to be avoiding Nami. And he sure as hell did not want that stupid cook anywhere near you right now, in fear of him comforting you so well that the swordsman would lose you to him entirely.

You didn't respond to that, so Zoro brought his hands up to slowly and gently peel yours away from your face. You let him, shocking yourself, and the sight of your bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face caused his heart to constrict painfully.

"Tell me what's wrong."

He held your hands in his own, not wanting to let go. He had waited so long to be able to hold them, and he was glad for this excuse to. But he was heartbroken seeing you so upset and apparently sick over something he didn't know about yet. He gently squeezed your hands, silently encouraging you to speak. He wasn't good with words, but if comfort was what you needed he would do and say whatever he could to make your pain go away.

"It's you and Nami."

He stiffened. He didn't know what that meant, but just hearing he was part of the reason you were so upset made his heart sink.

"What did we do?"

"It's...um...it's silly," you replied quietly, voice low but pain still evident. "It doesn't matter." You tried pulling your hands away, but Zoro only gripped them tighter.

"It does, if it's making you this upset."

Reluctantly, you relayed to him what you had dreamed about, voice cracking halfway through as more tears fell. You felt even sillier saying it to someone else, especially him, and avoided making eye-contact throughout the entire explanation. When you finished, you shot him a small, brief glance - only to do a double take when you saw the absolutely horrified and disgusted look on his face.

"Me and the thief?" He questioned, distaste clear in his tone. "You've got to be kidding me." He sighed, sneakily shifting closer to you on the bed. "That can't be possible."

"But-"

"Some of your dreams don't come true," he reminded you, "This is definitely one of those. You want to know how I know?"

You nodded slowly, biting your lip.

You did not expect his next words.

"Because I already dream about doing that with you."

Your jaw dropped. If you were like Luffy, it would have probably dropped all the way to the floor, you were so stunned by his confession. Your formerly slowed heartbeat picked up speed again, heat filling your cheeks as you processed his words.

"Me?"

"Mhm. Only you. Been a recurring dream, actually."

As you stuttered out an incomplete sentence and then stammered through some nonsense, Zoro leaned in slowly and pressed his lips against yours, locking you in a slow but sweet kiss. His lips were warm and soft, inviting you to lean into him and return the kiss. The affectionate gesture had butterflies blooming in your stomach.

"I'm sorry," you whispered once you remembered how to speak.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling you into a warm, comforting and secure embrace.

You sat like that quietly for a while, Zoro rubbing soothing circles onto your back while you clung to him, face buried in his neck. He kissed the top of your head every few minutes, in between mumbling sweet words of comfort into your ear - mainly "you're beautiful" and "i'm yours" because he didn't know what else to say. But it was enough for you.

Eventually, he spoke up.

"You should clear things up with Nami. She's upset because you're not talking to her."

"I know...later."

He chuckled and tightened his grip on you, keeping you warm and increasingly happy in his strong arms. He didn't intend on letting go, but that was good because you didn't want him to.

BONUS:

"STUPID MOSSHEAD!"

Loud banging and clanging jerked you awake the morning after your confessions, the sound of Sanji's loud exclamation having woken you - but not Zoro - up. He probably had woken up the others as well.

You tried to get up to see what was wrong, but Zoro refused to let go. He was still sleeping, but his arms wound around you even tighter, pulling you back against him. You sighed, knowing you could ask someone else later anyway.

Nami poked her head around the divider and smirked, "He's upset that Zoro finally confessed and ruined his chance to woo you."

You laughed at that, "Give him an hour, max. Then he'll try to woo you."

She groaned, "I'm already dreading it."

The two of you laughed, and it felt good to be back on speaking terms with her. Even though, strictly speaking, you hadn't had a reason not to be in the first place. But oh well.

The power of dreams...

#one piece #opla #one piece live action #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #opla zoro #opla x reader #zoro x you #opla zoro x reader #op #opla zoro x you

450 notes · View notes

mythicalviper-fr · 9 months

Text

FR Skin Contests and You (and Me)

Let’s talk about festival skin contests.

This post will be 1) about win conditions 2) my breakdown on my wins/losses. Before we start, please know a lot of this is guesswork, and based on my own perspective. Still, I hope this will be useful for some people ^^

***August/888 and I (but August mostly as it’s his idea) will be hosting an event encouraging new artists to join festival contests on 8/8. It will have a lot of tips and references to help get you started, so please keep an eye out!

When it comes to skin contests, people generally enter for one of three reasons: 1) for fun 2) because it’s seen as a milestone of skinmaking, or 3) out of a desire to push yourself to the limit knowing you’ll regret it like a Sunday hangover– but I hope that’s just me.

In my two years of participating in skin contests, I’ve seen a lot of artists join with a lot of excitement, only to give up or drop out because they aren’t winning. Some blame it on skill, others blame it on the staff, and some blame it on fellow competitors.

Here’s what I will say: like any contest, winning the festival skin contest is based on a combination of luck, knowledge, and skill. Just like any contest, there is a strategy to it and there are win conditions that you have to fulfill if you want a chance at winning. Some artists find these win conditions quickly and are able to adapt and cultivate the skill needed to pull off a win. Some are aware of these win conditions but do not yet have the skill to pull off a win. And some aren’t aware at all. A loss is usually (but not always) a result of not fulfilling those win conditions, or not fulfilling them as much as another artist.

So, let’s talk about these win conditions.

The Biggest Win Condition: Breed Variety

In my opinion, the biggest factor that makes or breaks an entry is breed variety. Over the past ten years, there's been a consistent trend of staff picking one winner per breed/pose, though there are occasional outliers (most recently, two Aether M for Brightshine, but previously also Undertide M and Spiral M). This means whenever you submit a skin, you’re competing against artists that also submitted the same breed/pose.

For those who aren’t aware, breed variety has been dropping in contests, along with the number of submissions. The result is that there are very few submissions for less popular breeds. Take a look at Brightshine 2023 - the majority of the submissions were Aethers. But even if there ended up being three Aether wins, that meant none of the other Aether skins made it in.

I want to explain this with numbers. Say Aethers (M&F) made up 60% of the Brightshine 2023 submissions but could only make it into 2 or 3/16 of the winning slots. That’s 60% of the submissions eliminated from making it into the remaining 13/16 slots. Where would the other 13/16 skins come from, if staff were to stick to their trend of 1 breed/pose skin per festival? The flight breeds - Imp and PC might take up 4 more slots. But that’s still 9/16 slots that need winners and only 30% of the submissions to pick from. Additionally, ancients will generally make up at least 40% of the winning submissions, if not 50%. That’s why having 100 submissions might mean there aren’t a lot of winners the staff could pick, and why there weren’t any Fae skins for Starfall 2022 or Spiral M skins for Mistral 2023.

I tested this theory with F Ridgeback submissions. I mainly focused on three breed/poses that I saw as the least submitted - F Noc, F Bog, and F Ridgeback. I went with Ridgeback because it was the base I liked the most. The result? Out of the 22 contests I’ve entered, I won 5 with F Ridgeback. That’s a 25% win rate with one breed/pose alone. If we factor in wins I’ve had with these three poses combined, that’s 8 wins or a 36% win rate.

Drawing on an unpopular breed/pose is a good way to make sure you don’t have too many competitors (and also show some of the more unpopular breeds some love). This is particularly true if you’re a newer artist like I was. I started doing art in June 2021, so I knew there was no chance I could outcompete better artists on the same breed/pose.

Of course, choosing the right breed will not always net you a win - you still need good skin composition and skills to catch the staff’s attention, which is what we’re going to talk about next.

Statutory Win Conditions: Flight Themes & Colors

When it comes to making a skin for a festival contest, I always recommend people look at the apparel, lore, and familiars for that flight, because these items are usually the closest to what’s canonically considered a flight’s aesthetic. A lot of the entries I’ve seen win are based off of the fest fams or match a fest apparel.

There are exceptions. The game aspect of the Lightning Flight isn’t canon, but we’ve had hivemind and gaming skins win. Why? Maybe that contest only had a total of 12-15 breed/poses submitted, maybe it was just the best executed skin for that breed/pose, maybe a staff member just really liked it. However, generally winners will match the flight’s canon aesthetic.

The trend of skin contest winners also suggest a favoring of elements that are placed on the dragon’s wings and head (leaves, vines, fairy/insect wings, gears), or accent/tattoo-like effects that involve gradient, sparkles, or abstract smoke (see 888’s 2023 brightshine win). Skin compositions that are balanced (elements throughout the body, as opposed to just one part of the body) see a higher win rate. Skins that have lower accent coverage tend to see higher win rates when they’re gradients/accents (linings on the dragon, runic/circuit effects) or when they’re concentrated on an easily noticeable/central part of the body (like the wings, or the dragon’s back).

In the end, knowing what to draw really comes down to research and knowledge. Before each contest I would review all the past winning entries and try to glean what staff did or didn’t pick. I noticed that staff didn’t tend to pick whiteout or body morph skins, and they tend to pick skins with higher coverage. I also checked past festival winners to see the color theme for each contest. There are some contests during which colors that aren’t necessarily the flight’s colors are still picked, and there are contests that haven’t seen a festival skin which didn’t match the flight’s colors. Like any contest, there’s always going to be a small bit of luck involved.

Ultimately, while I can’t speak for the staff, I do think there are win conditions that need to be fulfilled. You need to have a basic level of art skill. You need knowledge on skin composition and colors. Then, of course, you need to know which breed/pose to choose.

I hope my analysis helps a little when you’re entering your next contest, or that it made for an interesting read. If you just came here for general tips and tricks, that’s all I have for you - you can also scroll all the way down to see my final thoughts on contests. But generally, just keep trying different things, doing your research, and making sure you’re sticking to the flight theme.

For people who want it, here’s my breakdown on each series of contests that I’ve entered, and reasons why I think I won or lost.

Personal Analysis - Brightshine 2021-Brightshine 2023

I’m a very competitive person and more importantly, I love to compete. So the moment I found myself capable of making skins, festivals were on my radar. I studied what previous artists did, what techniques and designs seem to win the most. What skills did I need and what skins caught the judges' eyes? More importantly, what bases did I feel confident with and could perform the best on? As soon as I felt like I understood the contest, I entered Brightshine 2021 with about 2 weeks’ worth of art experience.

Then I proceeded to lose four contests in a row.

So, what happened?

Brightshine 2021 (loss)

Sometimes unearthing your old art is like watching an old video of yourself in your cringey teenager phase. But knowing why you lost is important in understanding how you can win (and what to absolutely not do again).

For Brightshine 2021, I submitted a Guard F design with two recolors. At the time I only had the skill to draw lanterns and filigree, so I went “that’s Light enough” and did exactly that. Although I would say my theme was (kind of) on point, it was my execution that was lacking:

Issue No. 1: Colors. In review of previous Light winners there’s a umber/gold palette or gold/sunlight palette that appears to be the meta. There have also been cases of red or purple winning even though they aren’t used in official Light items, and some rainbow entries. While one of my recolors followed this scheme, it fell short because–

Issue No. 2: Composition. Skin composition is the balance of elements and how well each element pulls their weight in a piece of art. In my Brightshine 2021 entry, most of the base was left bare. Artists like August are really good at skin comp where their entire piece looks tied together; mine was far from that.

Issue No. 3: Quality. If you compare my Brightshine 2021 submission to my 2023 one, you’ll see what I mean. My art style relies on rendering, or applying lighting and shadows, to bring out each element. Basically I need rendering in order to win. This isn’t necessarily a requirement for you; some artists do lineless, others do painterly, and others don’t render at all, but overall the art style should have a specific level of quality that rendering brought out in my art.

In short: wrong colors, bad lineart, skill issue, no skin comp - overall it was a piece of art not even its creator could love. (I tossed the psd in the recycling bin and hit delete. Except looking in the database now apparently I printed it, so now I have to live with the shame of its existence.)

There is one takeaway that I got. By the time the contest ended there were no other Guard F entries. I realized then that had my art been better, with the breed/pose’s lack of competition, I could’ve had a shot at winning the contest.

Thundercrack 2021 (loss)

Alright, 2021 Myth thinks, I’ve learned my lesson from Brightshine. The skin composition was not good. That means I should put more stuff on the base and I’m sure to win!

Have you ever just looked in the mirror and realized you, yes you, are the most punchable thing in the world?

In all fairness, the skin comp of my TCC entry did improve. Like Brightshine, I did a single design with two recolors on an unpopular breed. Improvements I made: additional elements to the skin aside from the one big element on the wing, and a color palette that matched the flight. Of course, I wished my theme of hivemind/code also matched the flight aesthetic, but just like my love life, the only thing my submission matched with was loss and disappointment.

Issue No. 1: Design. Upon reviewing past winners, very few featured fake apparel or clothing. As mentioned previously, staff do not appear to favor whiteout or body morph skins, and prefer elements that adhere to the dragon (like wings) or add to the dragon (like bones/feathers).

Issue No 2: Technology. For my entry, the circuit patterning on the wings did not take resizing well. I drew this on a 750x750 canvas and the resizing blended the many circuit lines into a single line. This isn’t a program issue. It was a lack of understanding of how resizing works.

Issue No 3: And we’re still here with my biggest problem: skill issue. Art is not a skill you learn in two months. I did learn to render, but not well enough. I wasn’t good enough. Yet.

Starfall 2021 (loss)

So… fun fact! During all of this I was writing my thesis. As in, I was writing my thesis after not writing my thesis for a year. It was stressful. I don’t have much to say about this contest because I did this skin as a meme for the sole reason that somewhere in my 3 am sleep deprived brain I thought “Emergency Portal-col” was hilarious.

I did not expect to win and I didn’t. Still, I did notice more and more that certain breeds just weren’t submitted for contests. Ridgeback F, I noticed, had anywhere from 0 to 1 submission for each contest while M pose generally had 0. Same for Nocturnes.

Riot of Rot 2021 (loss)

By this time, 2021 Myth had given up on the “one big element + some other accessories” idea. It hadn’t worked for Light or Lightning and it wasn’t going to work. So I thought, what if I just went for the accessory elements? My ROR skin featured the spider lily, smoke, and sparkles. I also started experimenting with dark gradients on the limbs of the dragon, which I’d noticed in winning fest entries.

Gradients and sparkles help with skin composition. Especially if you’re a newer artist who can’t pull off more complicated effects. Oftentimes a skin looks empty in certain parts, but adding elements to those parts would make things look messier. That’s where gradients/sparkles come in. However, I lost because:

Issue No 1: Composition again. While my elements tied together well, I had no main attraction other than the empty void that was the center of the Ridgeback wing. I essentially did a background scene and didn’t add a main character for it. This made me think that maybe my “one big element” skin comp idea was still worth a shot, but I needed a different take.

Issue No 2: Aaaand skill issue again.I was still bad at rendering, and sometimes skill is just why you lose. Not because you don’t have good ideas or because your execution was bad, but because you do not yet have the skills to defeat your competitors. You can do a really good looking skin, but if someone else in the contest did an even better looking skin on the breed/pose, then you’re not going to win.

Gala 2021 (win)

Losing four times in a row was pretty discouraging. But here’s another important element to skin contests: consistency. The frequency of your submissions should result in a win so long as you fulfill all of the other win conditions such as good composition, understanding of the theme, and the basic level of art skill required to win.

For the Gala, I realized that wings would be the best big element to put on a base while tying in all of the other elements. This is probably the most complicated skin I’d worked on at that time. But because I’d learned minimal rendering, because my skin composition was actually good, and there was no competition for Ridgeback F, I won. For the very first time.

Trickmurk 2021 - Starfall 2022 (6 wins 2 losses - 12 skin designs submitted total)

Here, I’d found my strategy. As long as I kept to the theme and made sure my skin comp and rendering was good, I would win. Especially because I had no competition. Again, breed variety is a huge issue in skin contests, because people - particularly the really skilled artists - are more likely to go for a breed that they like or is popular. As a newer artist, I was well aware that there was a 100% chance I’d lose if I tried to fight anyone for the same breed/pose. (And part of knowing the win conditions is also knowing artists you definitely are not winning against.)

3/6 of my wins during this time was F Ridgeback. The others were: F Coatl, which had no competition during Trickmurk, and F Nocturne, which had no competition during Wind and Arcane’s fests (but competed against my will to live because this is a terrible base to work on).

But relying on unpopular breed advantage was about as reliable as internet connection in a college dorm. 3/6 of my wins were ridgeback but that meant all of my losses were also ridgeback. On top of that, the number of Ridgeback submissions peaked at one point to 5-6. I was still winning, because I had the skill to beat my competitors. But I had to up my game. My skins had to be more elaborate, closer to the theme. I began submitting two designs per competition, which was… going to be a problem for me later.

The idea behind submitting two designs per competition is simple. Instead of just relying on one unpopular breed/pose to net you the win, now you have two shots at winning.

My goal that I’d made during this time was to either win 11 in a row or to win once for each holiday. This was to keep my motivation. Keep in mind I was also writing my thesis, so I really needed a goal to go towards, especially when I committed to doing two designs per contest.

(I defended my thesis successfully in May 2022 and graduated with high honors!)

ROR 2022 - Brightshine 2023 (7 wins 1 loss - 16 skin designs submitted total)

Here’s where I found another niche in the skin contests. Flight-breeds. These are breeds that belong to each element and surprisingly - they don’t actually get that many submissions. Seeing Starfall 2022’s skin turnout as an Arcanite was tough. When it came to reviewing Starfall 2022, anyone would’ve won as long as they submitted a good quality Fae skin that didn’t break the rules or stray too far from the theme and had a skin composition that the staff liked.

I decided to put my theory to the test with Earth, Ice, Wind, Water, and Nature. Are you surprised there were only three Snap F submissions for Earth, one Tun M for Ice, two SDM for Wind, and something like two Undertide F entries for Water? I was. Especially with Undertides because the breed had been released only five months ago. By noticing the flight-breed meta, and having the time, skill, and experience to make skins for those breeds that fit the criteria, I was able to win.

At this time I started straying away from my “one big element + smaller accessories” composition. My art had gotten better so I was able to expand my designs. Wavecrest 2023 was the biggest show of that, and I’m really proud of my entries for that contest. It was essentially a turning point in my art style… but it did take a lot more time and effort. From that point on, my skins were hitting 90+ layers and taking me at least two weeks to draw.

The last skin contest I entered with that art style was Brightshine 2023. By the time the contest ended, I was pretty sure winning would take a miracle or a relationship with god that I did not have. The competition for Imp M was difficult, and I was pitting my submission against artists who had far more experience and skill. I had some hope for my Ridge F entry, but again, relying on unpopular breed advantage is, well. Not reliable.

I lost. It was crushing, because not only did that mean I lost Brightshine three years in a row, Brightshine was the last contest I needed to win to fulfill either one of my goals: winning 11 in a row or win once for each elemental holiday. However, losses happen and it sucks, but it’s not the end of the world. I simply lost to a much better artist, and I am okay with that.

Final Thoughts

Heart-to-heart time.

I know some people become discouraged because they don’t think they have the skill, or they compare themselves to other artists. I felt discouraged for the same reason. After losing so many contests in 2021, I thought I would never improve. I would never be as good as artists that started long before me, or even some that started after me but learned so much faster.

I still think that’s true. I have a long way to go and I may never catch up to these other artists. But here’s the thing about art: it’s a skill that constantly evolves and you cannot see that evolution unless you keep trying. And you need to keep trying if you want to win, because you aren’t going to without reaching the right skill level.

The hardest truth about competitions is that you can’t expect to win just because you tried. If everyone could win just by participating – that contest isn’t worth winning. There are no stakes so there is no value. But when you put in a lot of effort and time, and you win? That win is something that will stay with you. That is a worthwhile win - because it was hard and because you lost so many times.

Sure, the staff could let everyone who enters win. Maybe winners should be judged solely on participation. Maybe that would make more people happy. But would you really be happy to win, knowing there’s no chance of losing? At that point, would being a festival contest winner mean anything?

In the end, a contest is supposed to be fun. Throw everything I’ve said out the window if that’s made contests un-fun for you. Most, MOST importantly, you should join the competition because you enjoy it. If you’re joining just to win, and you take losses very hard, and participation becomes a chore - then that is never going to be worth the toll on your mental health.

Take it from someone who took it too seriously. Drawing two skin designs monthly was taxing (remember it was taking me at least 2 weeks per design), and by Nature 2023 I had severe burnout. When Brightshine rolled around, I sat down for 11 hours to finish my Imp entry, because I knew I wouldn’t have time for art later. By the time I finished, I was running on about five hours of sleep and a very unhealthy attachment to caffeine.

Then, three days before Brightshine, I was diagnosed with tendonitis.

I started feeling discomfort in my arms/wrist since March, hence why I stopped releasing public skins. But this is effectively the worst arm related injury I’ve had, and while drawing is not the main cause, doing so for 11 hours straight didn’t help. My left arm has minor pain. My right arm is swollen and in a brace. This could’ve been avoided by taking breaks and doing exercises. But the lack of proper precaution led to injury. (And yes, I drew my Bogsneak TCC 2023 entry with a mouse for this reason. I could not use my tablet pen so… circle and line tool it was. But I had fun ^^)

I hope my analysis of the contests will be of some use to you. But please do not hurt yourself, mentally or physically, in competing. UMA artists make around 3kg per run of skin, so if you are entering contests for the prize, that’s not the best use of your time and energy. When it comes down to it, you are going to be doing free art for the site, and that is never worth injuring yourself for.

As a final note, thank you to the FR staff for allowing artists to participate in the site. My art experience is purely derived from skins and contests have encouraged me to improve myself. Thank you also to my friends who cheered me on along the way, the many wonderful artists who gave me tips on line weight, coloring, and rendering. And of course, many thanks to August for being the best cheerleader I could have. I would not have made it to Brightshine without him as a competitor and fellow artist.

(However nothing you do will make me like Gaolers and that is a hill I will die on.)

Happy almost-Flameforger’s everyone! Here’s to the next fest cycle.

#flightrising #flight rising #flight rising skins #fr skins and accents #fr fest #skins and accents

734 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 6 months

Note

Loving the Zach stuff so far!!!

Could you maybe do something where yn hates his guts, but he is like in love with her and all her sass?? Then they're forced to go on some school trip together or something, and she realizes she likes him and a cute angry love confession, perhaps???

Danke 🫶🏼💐

Thank You, History Class

Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Zach have been running in the same friend group since Freshman year, but it doesn’t mean they necessarily get along. Well, it doesn’t mean that she likes him. His sarcasm and puppy dog vibe annoys her cool and distant personality. He’s always asking her how her day is going and trying to make her laugh with his stupid jokes. Zach, on the other hand, fell for her grumpy soul the moment he set eyes on her. Unlike most people, who don’t bother looking deeper into her personality, Zach could see the soft side that she held within and never let anyone see. He would always catch how she would stand up from her bus seat when she saw an elderly person. She wouldn’t let people around her know it was the reason, but she always did. He saw the little bowl of milk she left outside her house for a cat mother and her kittens. Finally, he saw how sweet she was to children whenever they were around her.

Zach didn’t want to take a history class and he certainly didn’t feel like going on a field trip to a museum. It all felt very high school to him. The only upside about it: Y/N is also taking the same class. When he saw that he needed a history credit to graduate, he definitely didn’t go looking for what classes she was taking this semester to try and be in the same one. The cost was giving Jason access to his bathroom whenever he wanted, but it was worth it. He knows the field trip isn’t mandatory for any marks, yet he knows Y/N is going to be there. As he heads toward the Victorian house, he finds Y/N out front waiting for the professor to show up. Her clothing consists of black and brown colours as usual. Her hair was held back by a shiny black claw clip.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he grins, coming to stand beside her. She gives him a side eye, “Could you be more cliche? Try something more original, would ya? I still can’t believe you are taking this class.” He doesn’t let her sour mood dampen his energy. “Come on, you know you like having me with you in this class. The only other people in this class are girls who have a romanticized view of the era, or guys, who have a history stick so far up their ass that they think a history degree will take them far in life,” he notes, turning to look at her. She looks him dead in the eyes, “I’m a history major. And I am neither of those things.” “I know, that’s because you are so much better than them. You are far too smart for them,” he flatters. She shakes her head, turning her attention to the professor who has just arrived, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” The professor leads them into the museum and begins his lecture. After ten minutes of listening to the man speak, both Y/N and Zach realized that coming was a big waste of time. He doesn’t know what he is talking about and Zach can hear Y/N constantly correcting the older man under her breath.

He leans toward her, making sure his lips are close to her ear. “Wanna go on our own little tour? This man is getting half of this stuff wrong.” She thinks she has lost her mind because this must be the first thing Zach has said that she thought was a good idea. “That actually sounds kind of fun. They have a Victorian fashion exhibit I want to see, but I don’t think Professor Robo over there is going to take us to,” she whispers back. Her hand finds his and she hates to admit she likes the warmth of his in hers. They round the stairs to the exhibit. She looks delighted when she spots the first mannequin with clothes. Her feet find their way beside a girl about six years old, already looking at the dress. The child’s eyes find Y/N’s face and they smile at each other. “You know, this is an 1843 Evening dress. The bodice, the thing around the chest, is low off the shoulders. And they have lots of other skirts underneath to make it poofy,” Y/N softly explains to the little girl.

They spent around thirty minutes in the small room. Y/N walks around with Willow and Zach, explaining each outfit to them. She is surprised that Zach seemed honestly engaged with what she was saying and would ask thoughtful questions. Eventually, Willow’s mother, an employee, came looking for her and took the girl to lunch. “Do you want to head to lunch?” she asks. He shakes his head, “Actually, I was hoping we could look at the Victorian sports exhibit. I brought some snacks, so if you are hungry, we can share.” He pulls out a bag of cucumbers shaped like hearts. She has to giggle at the sight because big jock Zach MacLaren likes to have his vegetable cut into shapes.

“What?” he questions in fake offence, holding out the Ziploc to her. She shakes her head with a chuckle, “Nothing, just surprised your cucumbers look like an inaccurate depiction of a human organ.” “They make them taste better. Try,” he says with a shrug. He hands her a slice and listens to the sweet crunch of her biting into the vegetable. “Okay… I must admit it is more fun to eat it like a heart. I can pretend I’m a witch eating people’s hearts,” she agrees. He doesn’t look disturbed by her macabre comments, instead, he pretends to be ripping out his heart as he hands her another slice. She enjoys him playing with her deadly thoughts.

They spent about an hour looking at the different displays, eating his snacks and taking turns reading the display’s blurbs to each other. As they stand on the steps of the museum, Y/N towers over him from the step above. He looks up at her like she hangs the stars in the sky. “I hate to admit that you made this day pretty fun,” she confides. Her hands find their way behind her back, biting her lip as she looks into his eyes. His mouth turns into a crescent moon, “I’m really glad I did. I like spending time with you.” She takes a moment to think and moves her head away in frustration. Not at him, but at the turmoil inside her mind. Why is his charming smile suddenly getting to her? Why does she want to step into his warmth and let his arms bring her in? “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m falling for you, MacLaren. So… would you want to go to dinner? Like on a date,” she confesses with a hint of annoyance in her tone that is just normally there. She is disgusted by the excitement that crosses his face. He gets off the steps, running around the green grass in front of the building. He jumps every so often with a little whoop let out as he does so.

He rushes back to her, grabbing her around her waist and spinning her around. She finds the sound of her giggles odd but enjoys it nonetheless. “Way to keep a poker face,” she sasses, looking down at him. He doesn’t care though all he wants is a chance to be with her.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

#the other zoey #zach maclaren #zach maclaren x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fanfiction

423 notes · View notes

damiansgoodgirll · 4 days

Note

I would like a story where Damian becomes extremely protective of his wife and child after a dangerous event occurs.

i looooove writing about this kind of stuff! let’s say this is kind of an utopia but it could still happen, okay?

anyway

damian priest x reader

‼️angst and fluff

wrong house

your life was perfect.

perfect like in one of those romantic comedy.

you had a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and a big house like you dreamed about when you were a kid. a huge living room, plenty of space for your daughter to run and play, a backyard pool and the classic white picket fence. you were in a nice and wealthy neighbourhood, surrounded by lots of parks and kind people.

what more could you ask for?

a couple of blocks away from your neighbourhood there’s been a few robberies, nothing major, just some teens thinking it was fun scaring old people, but police officers told you multiple times that you didn’t have to worry about it, that they have it handle it.

damian wasn’t so sure about it tho.

he made everything in his power to provide you with a beautiful house, a nice neighbourhood so you could feel safe when he was travelling for work so the idea of having teens breaking into people’s homes late at night made him shiver, especially when he thought about you and your daughter.

“are you sure it’s okay? i can come home early…you know it’s not a problem mi amor” he said through the phone.

“dam…” you said laughing “everything been calm for over three weeks, we’ll be okay…”

“i know it’s just…you know how i get when i’m not home, i’m only thirty minutes away from you and in case anything happens you give me a call okay?”

“i promise you dam…go back to training” you said laughing again.

“i will, tell maya that i love her okay? and that i miss her so much and that i will crush her with hugs and kisses once i come back home” he said smiling, thinking about his two years old daughter.

“i will i promise…go back to training, we’ll see you in a couple of hours…” you said giving him a kiss through your phone and hanging up.

you smiled watching your daughter being completely invested in the cartoon she was watching.

the evening went on normally.

you and maya had dinner together, you got her ready for the night but as usual she didn’t want to go to bed without having a goodnight kiss from her father, so, instead of going to bed, you spent the early night together, watching some cartoons and eating popcorn.

you watched the time and you knew damian would be back in an hour so you took a few seconds to close your eyes and relax a bit.

non even a minute passed that you heard some weird noise coming from the back door.

you knew for sure that damian wasn’t back, you didn’t hear the car and even if he was, you knew he never used the back door, so what was going on?

then you heard them, two, maybe three voices talking softly. saying how hard it was to open your door and that maybe they should go to another house. you prayed that they would let you alone but when you heard the click sound of the door opening you realised it was too late.

you grabbed maya into your arms and pulled her towards your chest. moving fast to the bedroom, you locked yourself in, and then you locked yourself into the bathroom, hiding maya behind you in the tub.

you knew you should have called the police, you knew that but the first person that came to your mind was damian.

you didn’t know what was going on, and if something bad was going to happen you wanted to hear damian’s voice one last time.

“please…” you whispered, waiting to hear his voice.

your hands were shaking and even if you were crying, you were praying no one would be able to hear you from downstairs.

“hey love” he answered.

“dam?” your voice broke.

“hermosa…what’s going on?” he asked, alarmed by the sound of your voice.

“dam they’re here…”

“who?” he knew who, he just didn’t want it to be real.

“someone’s in the house…dam, they’re in the kitchen, looking for something i guess, i’m in the bathroom with maya, we’re locked in…i know they never hurt anyone, they’re just kids but…damian i’m so scared, i don’t want anything to happen to maya” you broke down, trying to muffle your cries.

“listen to me amor, i’m coming back home right now okay?” he said and you hummed “you’re on the speaker, finn is with me and he’s calling the police right now, you stay at the phone with me okay?”

he didn’t know how he was able to remain so calm. in reality he was freaking out, just the thought of you and maya being in danger made his blood boil.

“is maya okay?” he asked.

“she’s okay, she’s scared too but she’s okay” you said, looking at your daughter’s face. she was confused and definitely scared but still she didn’t know what was going on.

“are you okay love? i’m coming back home, right now..you stay at the phone with me okay?”

“okay…” you said.

you hear the noise from downstairs growing closer to you, they were in the living room right now. you were lucky your house was big enough that you had the time to hide.

“damian they’re closer…i can hear them… i’m so scared…”

“i know princesa i know….keep holding on for me okay…i’m driving as fast as possible, keep holding on”

“i love you so much damian…so so much”

“don’t say that like it’s the last time you’ll say this…” damian’s heart broke, he couldn’t imagine how scared you must have been “i love you so much mi amor and i’m not going anywhere, ill stay at the phone with you, finn just told me the police is on their way…”

“okay…” you whispered.

damian kept talking to you but you stopped him when you heard the sirens ringing.

“police is here…” you whispered letting damian know about it.

you heard them breaking down the front door. you heard them chasing the kids around your house and you heard them calling your name.

you waited until they found you. they were police but you didn’t trust them enough to come out yet, you didn’t feel safe. the only place where you always felt safe was between damian’s arms and you couldn’t wait for him to be back.

you and your daughter were brought downstairs. you didn’t care about the broken furnitures, not when something worse could have happened.

damian ran into the house, fighting off police officers who told him to stay outside.

“my wife and my daughter are inside!” you heard him screaming, shoving past one officer.

“dam…” you said, tears running down your face.

“hey…” he whispered hugging you tight. maya was watching the whole scene with a confused smile. she was just a kid, too young to understand what was going on. one police officer was sat next to her, while you couldn’t let go of damian’s embrace.

“i was so scared…”

“i know mi amor, i know…everything is over now, you’re safe, you and maya are safe…” he kept repeating, more to himself, because he couldn’t describe how terrified he was when you told him someone broke into your house.

“i’m so glad she’s okay…i would have fought with all my life if something happened….”

“i know hermosa…she’s so lucky to have you as her mom, i’m so glad to call you my wife…and i’m so happy to see you both here alive, i’m so sorry i wasn’t here”

“damian, it’s not your fault” you said before he could blame himself “you’re here now and it’s all that matters”

“i love you so much…and you too maya” he said moving to bring her up in his arms.

she was just happy to see his daddy smiling at her.

“missed you” she said with her soft voice that always made your heart smile.

“i missed you too princess…and i’m not going anywhere for a long time” he said kissing her head “daddy is gonna stay here with you”

she seemed happy with his decision and so were you.

it was kinda selfish taking him away from his work but he knew that you wouldn’t trust yourself to be home alone for some time now and he didn’t want to leave you alone, never.

168 notes · View notes

archangeldyke-all · 14 days

Note

Something with like cellmate prisoner!sevika?! 😭😭😭 idk I just think like her being all dangerous and powerful, having a shit ton of friends but like selectively, no one messing with her maybe even hating how just mean she is. And then comes in reader and yk. I’d love if the story was smutty but u can chose ofc 🫦

i love this so much

men and minors dni

living in zaun is shit. but the one thing that's always kept you and a majority of your fellow citizens in line, was the ever-looming presence of stillwater prison just a few miles away. you've watched countless people enter those prison walls. you know very few who ever came back out.

and now, through a series of unfortunate events that lead to you assaulting an undercover enforcer, you're going to find out first hand just how horrible stillwater really is.

you don't think you've ever been so nervous in your life as the enforcer guides you-- restrained and already hating the itchy fabric of your new life-long uniform--down a long, long hall of cells.

he's chewing a wad of bubblegum, casually, like you aren't about to piss yourself with nerves. "listen kid." he says, looking you up and down. "i read your file. seems like you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." he says, shrugging. "no prior arrests, clean record-- honestly i'm surprised they sent you here, but i guess you did break marcus' nose." the enforcer chuckles here.

"you know that asshole?" you ask. the man guiding you snorts.

"'s my boss." he mumbles. beside you, a prisoner lunges at the bars of their cell, screaming at you. you jump, and the guard laughs. "as i was sayin'-- you seem like a real peach. like you'd be a good influence on some of our... rougher prisoners." he mumbles.

dread starts to curl in your stomach. you have a pretty good idea of where this conversation is headed, and you don't like the outcome. you just hope you aren't cellmates with someone real bad: like genie the counter-fitter who got caught two years ago; esmee the weapons expert who successfully set an entire square block of piltover's wealthiest neighborhood ablaze; or, god forbid, sevika.

she'd been caught just weeks ago, smuggling an entire airship's worth of shimmer into piltover's loading docks. it was big fucking news.

sevika's a big fucking deal.

and you want absolutely nothing to do with her.

which is why, of course, the guard pulls you to a stop right outside of the only cell with a light on, the low, dim glow of a reading lamp and the quick flickering light of a lighter. you feel like you're gonna barf.

sitting in the shadows of the cell, puffing on a hand-rolled cigarette, sits sevika, silco's second in command.

if he's the eye of zaun, she's the arm. he might be watching-- but she's doing. she's nothing but bad news; everything you've tried your best to avoid while living in the undercity.

well, look how well that turned out for you.

"sevika, meet your new cellmate." the enforcer calls out. a pair of silver eyes snap up from her book and lock on yours. you shiver.

"fucks' wrong with her?" she mumbles. you gulp.

"nervous, i'd assume. 's her first-offense." the guard says. he shoves you into the cell and you jump as the bars slam shut behind you. "you ladies have fun." he says, before turning and walking away, the smacks of his gum echoing behind him.

sevika inspects you from her chair.

"how'd you fuck up so bad you ended up in a cell with me from your first offense?" she asks, seemingly intrigued.

"punched an undercover enforcer." you whisper. sevika's eyebrow hitches up, a little amused.

"yeah?"

"think his name was marcus, or something." you mumble. she sputters.

"ha! really!?" she asks, a little smile growing on her face. you nod. she takes a drag off her cigarette, then points at the bunk beds. "i get bottom. don't go thinkin' 'cause we're cellmates it means you get to touch my shit. i got people outside pullin' big favors for met to get shit like this." she gestures to her cigarettes and lamp. you nod. "don't look so nervous. i won't bite unless you piss me off."

you try to stop shivering. you don't succeed. "s-sorry."

she studies you for a moment, her smile growing as she does. though she's no longer armed with shimmer, her arm's still in perfect working condition, five little daggers gently tapping on the table top as her eyes dart across you. "you from the lanes?" she asks. you nod. she snorts. "you know who i am?" she asks. you nod again. she chuckles, then stands. she approaches you, circling around you like you're prey, then chuckling and leaning back against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. "you scared'a me?" she asks.

"shouldn't i be?" you choke out.

it seems to be the right answer. sevika laughs, then sits back down at her table, picking her book back up, chuckling intermittently for minutes after.

she's not a bad roommate. she's surprisingly tidy, always quiet, her nose usually buried in a book. she smokes like a fucking chimney, and you've come to find she gets her tobacco-- and sometimes a bit of weed-- from one of the guards every tuesday night.

she's got special privileges among most of the guards. they're always sneaking her books and flasks, letting her get away without cell-searches, letting her read past lights out and have lighters and screwdrivers and other dangerous, weapon-like tools.

you, on the other hand, do not have these privileges. and, keeping in line with sevika's one and only rule, you don't touch her shit. all of this means that while sevika smokes and works on her arm and reads and works out, you spend your time just... sitting on the top bunk. watching her.

sometimes, during open cell time, she gets visitors. you're surprised that none of these visits end in shady dealings-- sevika doesn't seem to need to trade her stash of goods for anything. most of her visits are quick, and most end the same way: a small scrap of paper being shoved in sevika's hand.

she burns the scraps after she reads whatever's on them.

she's... pleasant, sometimes. it's rare, but it happens. one day, you'd forgotten to make your bed before you went to breakfast. you returned to find it neatly made, and when you thanked her for helping you avoid trouble with the guards, she had just waved it off. "don' get used to it. i won't always be here to fix your mistakes."

once, a fight broke out while you were in the showers. you were sent back to your cell soaking wet-- your hair still lathered in shampoo. she had chuckled, called you a "wet rat", and helped you rinse your hair out in the tiny sink in your cell.

and... she's kinda pretty. it occurred to you one evening while the two of you were partaking in your nightly routine: sevika reading in her chair while you study her, pretending to sleep. she'd glanced up at you and whispered. "why're you always lookin' at me?"

you shrugged, then nearly choked on your tongue when 'you're pretty' almost slipped out of your mouth. "uh... i got nothing else to look at." you'd ended up saying. she seemed to accept this.

"you don't have any prison girlfriends?" you ask. sevika's in a particularly jovial mood today: the note she'd been delivered earlier in the afternoon must've had great news. she's decided to share her joint with you. the question slipped out the second you took your first puff-- your tolerance astronomically low from being without for so long.

sevika laughs. "nah."

"but..." you cut yourself off before you get yourself in trouble, biting your lip. sevika chuckles, then nudges your leg.

"y' can say it." she says. you smile at her, then speak.

"it's just... i had a few friends who work at babette's." you say. "i figured you'd have as much of a reputation here as you do there."

she takes a second, tilting her neck side to side as it cracks, then sighing. "i got shit to do in here." she says simply. you raise an eyebrow at her, biting your lip again, and she chuckles. "say it." she demands again.

"you just read all day." you laugh. sevika nods.

"i'm... working." she says. you just nod along, pretending you understand what she's alluding to.

it happens in the strangest way but you and sevika start to become... friends.

she sits alone at lunch, and you sit alone too, on the oppisite side of the cafeteria. but you're so used to looking at sevika, that you find yourself watching her even when there are much more entertaining things to look at, like the handful of fights that break out every meal.

you notice she loves the jello cups you guys get once a week. so you pocket yours and toss it at her later that night. the way she smiles lights up the room even brighter than her tiny lamp. you make it a habit.

she starts loaning you her books, finds you a crate to sit on by her table while you guys read together at night.

and when sevika gets jumped in the middle of the night-- you don't even question it before you jump out of your bunk, grab sevika's screwdriver where she left it on the table, and start swinging in the dark, blindly.

"what the fuck?" someone squawks when you manage to stab something in the dark.

"what?" sevika whispers in the dark.

"sevika, your bunkmate fucking stabbed me!" her attacker's voice rings out.

a light flicks on. you cringe at the sudden brightness, then blink in confusion as sevika and a guard with a screwdriver sticking out of their shoulder stare at you.

sevika's grinning. the guard is scowling. you hold your hands up in shaky fists, preparing for a fight. sevika chuckles.

"relax, sweetheart." she says, swinging her arm around you and tugging you into her side. "ran's a friend." she whispers into your ear. you blink at the bleeding guard, then back at sevika.

"so, what, we're taking your girlfriend with us now?" the guard-- ran-- asks. sevika looks at her friend, then looks at you, a calculating look in her eye. she smirks, shrugs, then looks back at the guard.

"she threw herself between me and a uniform-- can't just throw that kinda loyalty out, now can i?" she asks, smiling.

you don't know what's happening. you're about to ask-- when suddenly you black out.

the first thing that comes back to you is your sense of hearing.

voices.

"sevika, fuck, you can't just throw a wrench in the plan like this--"

"i can do whatever the fuck i want--"

"on the night of the breakout?! no heads up!?"

"do i need to remind you which one of us is second in command, here?!"

"...fuck. c'mon, help me load her in the van."

the next thing is your sense of touch. you're laying on the rumbling cold steel of a van floor-- currently in motion.

you're shivering, but then something warm and wool and smelling like cigars is draped over you.

you're head keeps bumping uncomfortably with every crack in the road. someone gently picks your head up and puts it in their warm nap, a hand coming down to scratch your scalp.

your voice comes next. "mmmh?"

"it's okay." sevika's voice comes. you groan, cracking your eyes open, only for her face to be grinning down at you. "fuckin' maniac." she giggles.

"wha?" you groan. you're seeing double, your head is pounding.

"ran knocked you out. 's what you get for stabbin' 'em." sevika chuckles. "but, you're lucky, 'cause they don't hold a grudge. they helped me lug your ass outta stillwater."

"wha?!" you ask again, snapping up. sevika laughs as you look out the front window of the van-- the depths of piltover surrounding you as you head, presumebly, to the last drop.

you recognize the man driving-- a tall, muscular, tattooed man who'd recently been added to your cell block's guard rotation. in the passengers' seat sits the guard you'd stabbed-- bandaged and watching you with amusement.

"wha's happenin'?" you mumble, looking back at your cellmate as you clutch a hand to your throbbing head. you've been shrouded in a red cloak-- sevika's already out of her prison uniform and back in her 'second in command' look. she smirks at you.

"y' really think i was jus' sittin' around, servin' my time?" she asks. you shrug.

"figured somethin' was goin' on. y' kept gettin' those notes. didn't wanna ask." you groan. sevika chuckles.

"well, you shoulda. or i shoulda warned you, so you didn't try killing my crew." she chuckles. you blink over to the person in the passengers' seat, cringing.

"s-sorry." you mumble. they wave it off.

"'s cool. knocked you right the fuck out, didn't i?" they chuckle. "we're even."

you turn back to sevika. "you broke me out of prison?" you ask. she shrugs.

"'re you mad about it?" she asks. you gawk at her.

"uh... just... a little surprised?"

sevika cackles. you smile at the sound, despite your headache. "i wasn't plannin' on it! then you started givin' me your jello, 'n readin' all my books, 'n..."

"she's got a crush on you." ran fills in from the front.

"i didn't say that!" she shouts.

"she's not denying it though--" the man driving teases.

you choke on your spit. sevika huffs, rolls her eyes, and speaks. "i... i kinda got a crush on you, yeah." she mumbles. "and i swear i'm not sayin' this jus' 'cause i think you're cute but: you should really stay with us at the last drop until things calm back down, since, y'know... you're kinda wanted now..." she says, rubbing the back of her neck.

you blink... shocked.

you don't really know what to think. you tried your whole life to stay out of trouble, and it managed to find you anyways in the form of a drunken under-cover enforcer deciding to smack your ass when you'd had too many drinks to hold your punches. you tried to stay out of trouble in stillwater until you were saddled with sevika. you tried to stay out of trouble with her until she dragged you-- literally, you were unconscious!-- out of prison along with her. it seems like trouble's meant for you.

but if there's one thing you're certain of, it's sevika.

you smile at her, then reach up to cup her cheek. she looks more nervous than you've seen her in all your months in stillwater together.

"you gotta crush on me?" you ask. she gulps.

"i'd say it's a little more than a crush seeing she broke you outta stillwater as your first date--"

"ran!" sevika hollers. you chuckle.

"is this our first date?" you ask, raising your eyebrow at her. she shrugs.

"it's... jus' don't expect the next dates to be this exciting." she chuckles, rolling her eyes. you grin, then dart forward and press a kiss to her lips. when you pull away, she's wearing that same nervous look again.

"you okay?" you whisper. she licks her lips, nuzzles a bit against your hand on her face, and nods.

"'m just kickin' myself for not puttin' the moves on you sooner. coulda been fuckin' you to pass the time in prison instead of readin' all those boring books." she mumbles. you burst into laughter, and she grins.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

199 notes · View notes

userlando · 2 years

Text

✧･ﾟ 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢'𝐦 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮)

billy hargrove x fem!reader [12.1k] summary ⤍ jason can’t seem to keep his grimy hands off of you at tina’s yearly halloween rager, and billy really does not like that. warnings ⤍ 18+ (minors dni), petname use, sexual assault (jason touches reader without her consent), explicit language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected piv sex, light choking, hair pulling. a/n ⤍ this idea came to me thanks to this gif and could not leave me until i wrote it down. obviously billy isn’t the racist douchebag he canonically is, so keep that in mind. please let me know what you think <3

The soles of your shoes stuck to the hardwood floor as you weaved between the crowd of sweaty, drunken teenagers. Your eyes were searching for Nancy, Robin or even Steve but you were beginning to lose hope, seeing as you had lost them about twenty minutes ago and not caught a glimpse of them since then.

You grumbled under your breath, recalling your pact to stay together in case things got out of hand. Which, it was bound to happen seeing as it was a rager hosted by none other than Tina herself; On Halloween night nonetheless. Her parties always ended up with the cops getting called because some genius decided that jumping from the second floor into her pool was a good idea. Or maybe some poor sucker had wandered drunkenly over to the next house over and vomited all over the lawn belonging to an old couple.

It felt like half the school was here, and you were beginning to regret coming in the first place. It wasn’t that you hated parties, they were almost always fun and eventful. But, you would’ve been perfectly happy with a horror movie night and so was Robin at first. She was the one who’d suggested it earlier this week at Family Video all up until she’d heard that Vickie was making an appearance and suddenly Fright Night and Day of the Dead were far from her mind and all she could focus on was your costumes.

Your own costume was starting to itch, the humid air in the house making it stick to your skin but you shook the discomfort off in order to find the kitchen. The costume you were wearing was a slight replica of Madonna’s Like a Virgin dress, it had so much tulle and lace but it was gorgeous and made your chest look way more defined than usual.

Nancy had done most of the work in assembling it to look even remotely close to the original, and Robin had laughed at the absurd amount of tulle but you looked good and that was all that mattered.

A senior you didn’t even recognise took a step back into you, disturbing your wandering mind and you pushed at him with a frown when he drunkenly stumbled into you. Of course it just happened to be the stickiest, bloodiest boy who smeared half your arm with whatever he’d slathered himself in.

“Oops, sorry.” He gave you a grin that was far from sorry, and promptly turned his back to you.

You had a half a mind to kick him in retaliation before thinking twice, turning around and making your way to the kitchen instead. The crowd was already rowdy and insufferable, but it went up in volume as people gathered by the front door. Someone popular had clearly shown up. You took it as an opportunity to sneak off into the kitchen, a major sigh of relief escaping you when you caught sight of Steve’s mop of styled hair.

“There you are!” He exclaimed as he saw you, reaching an arm out and pulling you in by the shoulders when you got close enough.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you guys.” You sounded accusing even to your own ears, but you couldn’t help it.

“I kn - What the fuck happened to you?” He took a step back and held you at arms length, inspecting the artificial blood smeared on your arms in mild shock and concern.

You squinted your eyes when you inspected his own, glassy ones. The boy was clearly inebriated and it made you grin. Drunk Steve was fun.

“Just some asshole that bumped into me.” You looked around for paper towels and quickly gave up when you couldn’t find any amongst the mess in the kitchen. “It’s fake Steve, you don’t have to look so queasy.”

Steve shoved gently at your shoulder.

“M’not.” He grumbled, even though his face said otherwise. “You having a good time?”

“It’s fine,” you said, choosing not to be a debby downer and tell it as it is. “Where did you go off to?”

Steve downed the last of his drink, bobbing his head with a grimace and you watched in amusement when his hair moved with him. He gestured vaguely with a hand behind him where the backyard was.

“Was talkin’ to Casey,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t been pining over her for the past two weeks.

“Oh?” Your eyebrows raised, intrigued.

Steve rolled his eyes, “She was a dud.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.” You muttered loudly enough for him to hear, to which he nodded with an expression on his face that said whatever.

You watched him refill his drink, pausing when a girl you didn’t recognise walked up to him. She seemed drunk, if her glassy eyes were anything to go by, but she was pretty and definitely Steve’s type. He seemed to recognise her, straightening up his posture and striking her with that deadly charming grin. You watched them for a moment before losing interest, deciding that the bathroom was where you needed to be so you could clean yourself up a bit.

Your arm had been rubbed raw but you’d finally gotten rid of most of it when people started pounding on the door. Someone distinctively yelled about taking a piss, voice getting lost in the pulsing music coming from downstairs and you quickly unlocked the door.

The jock on the other side gave a sigh of irritation - or was it relief? You couldn’t tell - before he shoved you aside with minimal care to make his way into the bathroom. You followed him with your eyes, turning around to quickly escape when you realised he was halfway to unzipping and shoving his pants down.

The party had gotten even more obnoxious and louder as you descended the stairs. You watched on in mild amusement as a couple stumbled up the stairs, giggling and groping each other.

“Hey,” the voice was loud enough to make you stop before you’d taken the last five steps down, coming face to face with the last person you’d hoped to see. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Jason.” Your voice was dry as you gave him a tight smile from where he stood at the bottom of the staircase, blocking your escape.

The jock in question grinned, seemingly unfazed by your lack of enthusiasm as he took a step up, bringing him closer closer - and taller than - you.

“I’ve looked around for you,” he said. “figured you’d be here when I saw Harrington around.”

You didn’t even want to question what he meant by that, arms crossing over your chest when his gaze lingered uncomfortably.

“I was just leaving, so…” you trailed off with a polite smile, taking a step to the side closest to the wall.

You realised your mistake the second you made your move, because Jason sidestepped with you and successfully trapped you between the banister and himself.

“Leaving me by myself, babe?” He pouted his lips in what he thought was probably endearing, but it was starting to make your skin crawl.

How this guy was one of the most popular people in school, you didn’t know. He had spent the last two months asking you out when he had the chance and there were only so many polite ways you could say “fuck no” before you were starting to lose your patience.

Your eyes flitted over his shoulder, hoping to catch anyone’s eyes long enough to signal them for help. No one was looking, too into their own worlds to notice how Jason was trapping you like an animal that’d found its prey.

“You’re hardly alone, Jason.” You tried laughing it off, but the sound died in your throat when you felt something grazing your thigh.

Your eyes shot down to see his fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress, the tulle fabric concealing most of his movement but you felt dread shoot up your spine all the same. You didn’t expect your hand to automatically shove his imposing hand away, and judging by Jason’s face, neither did he. His mouth opened but your heart was pounding too loudly in your ears and the music was starting to hurt your head. It didn’t help that his face was right next to yours, breath smelling of booze and cigarettes. It had your stomach rolling dangerously. Maybe there would be some satisfaction to chucking up all over Jason Carver’s front, but you weren’t in the mood to be the talk of the school for the next two weeks.

“I need to go.” It was said with more stuttering than you would’ve liked but the whole place was starting to feel very claustrophobic. You didn’t know whether the walls were closing in for real or if you were just imagining it.

Before he had the chance to speak, you side stepped and made your way down the stairs as quickly as you could, your eyes locked on him in case he would try to do anything else to you behind your back.

“Hey, where are you going?” He didn’t sound too happy.

Your breath quickened when you saw him turn around and in your haste to escape, you managed to run right into something. Someone. Your hands came up to grip onto leather, shaky gasp evading your lips as an arm snuck around your waist to keep you from falling straight on your ass.

It took you a second to realise that you were face to face with a very naked, very sweaty and chiselled chest. Your eyes trailed up carefully, taking in the thick neck and stubbly chin surrounding a beautifully pink mouth. A mouth that was stretching into a smirk you were familiar with - It looked funny, the way he managed to keep the lit cigarette from falling from his mouth as he bared his teeth in that animalistic way.

There was no denying the slight surprise in Billy Hargrove’s face as his eyebrows raised on his forehead.

“Hello to you too.” The boy’s voice was teasing, voice smooth as if he’d been slathering honey all over it and you would’ve taken a moment to secretly appreciate it any other day. A day where you weren’t on the verge of a suffocating panic attack.

You didn’t have time to speak before Jason’s grating voice cut through the booming music.

“C’mon, don’t be so uptight. I’ll loosen you up.”

Billy’s eyes cut to the boy over your shoulder as he rounded the corner, eyes squinting and you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he assessed the situation he had - quite literally - ran into. You watched as his gaze flickered back to yours and it didn’t take much of a genius to understand what was happening. Your frown, the shaking lips and pleading eyes were enough of a giveaway. His arm that was still wrapped around you gently pushed you to the side before he took a good look at the jock in front of him.

If your knees weren’t shaking as badly as your hands and your thoughts were running a mile a minute, you would’ve laughed at the difference in both boys. They were the same height almost, but the way Billy carried himself made him look infinitely more scarier than Jason.

“You never give up, do you, blondie?” Billy spoke, voice muffled from the cigarette still shoved between his lips, but scary all the same.

Jason pulled his shoulders back in defence.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean, freak?”

People were starting to look your way, way more interested in the impending fight happening in front of them. Some people were looking at you, and it made you want to shrink. You hated the attention and had half a mind to turn around and run.

“You know exactly what it means,” Billy grabbed his cigarette that had turned into a bud from his mouth, puffing out the smoke in the blond’s face.

It looked like they were gearing up for a fight. In your desperation to stop it from happening, you found yourself grabbing Billy’s arm with a small tug. It was soft, but enough for the blue eyed boy to glance back at you.

“Please, just leave it.”

Your relationship with Billy was complicated; You weren’t exactly friends but you didn’t hate each other either. Ever since he transferred schools, he’d been in your radar one way or the other. You’d catch him behind the school with a doobie, walking in the halls where he’d throw a flirty and quite frankly, cheesy pickup line that had you rolling your eyes. Sometimes you’d let him copy your answers from a test if you were in a good mood, and he’d let you swim an extra hours after closing time by the pools. It became almost impossible to steer clear of him once Max was thrown into your odd group of friends, and you’d run into him so often that Billy started teasing you about stalking him.

It was a ridiculous accusation, of course. But it amused Billy to no end either way.

During all your interactions and random bump ins, he’d never seen you look so uncomfortable and scared as right now. Your hands were clutching his leather jacket, and although he had every intention of beating Jason fucking Carver into a pulp, it wouldn’t make that scared expression on your face disappear.

So, he gave you a small nod that he hoped looked reassuring before facing Jason who looked pissed. Whatever the latter boy had seen pass between your brief eye contact, was enough to grind his gears. It was evident in the way his jaw clenched and mouth pursed.

You watched as Billy leaned close to his ear to say something. It almost looked like Jason was about to push him off before his face turned sickeningly pale. They had a slight staring contest before the jock turned on his heel and walked off. Billy watched him until he’d disappeared completely, before turning around to face you.

“You okay?” He asked, and there was no mistaking the tension in his voice.

The boy was pissed. But he seemed to hold it together pretty well for the sake of not causing a scene.

“Can we get out of here?” You asked.

Nausea was making your stomach roll, and you weren’t in the mood to stick around for any longer than necessary.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Billy’s Chevrolet Camaro smelled exactly like he did. It was weird, but he always managed to smell like cheap cologne, smoke - whether it’s from a joint or a cigarette - and musk. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, but you found your mind wandering to places they shouldn’t be.

If you had a nickel for every time you’d found yourself in Billy Hargrove’s car, you’d have exactly one nickel. It had been late in the winter when your piece of shit pick-up truck had broken down in the middle of nowhere and Billy had just so happened to drive past. Looking back on it, that had been the start of your odd friendship.

A Metallica song was blearing when the boy next to you turned the key to the ignition, and he was quick to reach forward to turn the music down with an annoyed grunt before peeling out of the curb and onto the road. You sat in silence, hands in your lap as you glanced out the window before tilting your head to his direction.

The silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but you were still feeling a little shaken up and exposed in your dress; All you were yearning for, was the burning stream of your shower.

Billy didn’t seem like he was in the mood to talk, his eyes looked faraway and that was your only indication that his mind was straying. You watched as his eyebrows jumped, like he’d come across an unpleasant thought, and he seemed to grow more agitated when he sighed heavily and rolled down a window in harsh jerks.

The smell of the cigarette he lit up between his teeth made you feel a little queasy, but you didn’t utter a word. It was clear that he needed some kind of stress relief and you figured that you’d let him have that after saving you from Jason the creep. Besides, you were used to Eddie’s chain smoking and Steve sneaking in a cigarette here and there.

“You okay?” His question caught you off guard, and you realised that you’d been staring a little too hard at his side profile.

You averted your eyes with a light sigh, taking in the dark road and the passing, yellowing trees blurring as Billy drove you home.

“Yeah.” You replied. “Are you?”

His response came in the form of a shrug.

You wrung your hands as you considered your next question. It had been nagging you ever since you left the party and seeing as the meek conversation was dying down, you figured now was a good time to come out with it.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” You tilted your legs to point at Billy as you turned to face him in your seat.

You watched as his hair by the neck ruffled as the wind blew through the windscreen. It was hard not to stare at him, the slope of his nose, his sharp jawline and his pink, plushy lips. The boy was gorgeous.

It was like he’d read your mind, because he tilted his head to look at you, lips pulled into his little signature smirk and you didn’t even pretend to act as if you weren’t looking at him.

“You just did.” He said and you gave him a dry look until he relented. “Fine, what?”

“So, back at the party…” you trailed off until he hummed in acknowledgement. “What did you whisper to him? Jason, I mean.”

Billy’s eyes were on the road ahead and you could only see his side profile, but there was no mistaking the clench in his jaw and his hands tightening around the steering wheel. You briefly wondered if you should’ve left it alone, but you were too curious to let it go.

“I’m just asking because he seemed to back off pretty quickly after that,” you continued when the air grew thick with silence. “Dude practically created a Jason shaped hole in the door with how fast he ran off.”

That earned you a slight twitch of his lips and you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been staring so intently at his face.

“Nothing you should concern yourself with, dimples.”

You grimaced, and you weren’t sure if it was because of his vague answer or the nickname he’d one day just randomly decided to call you a year ago. It used to make you roll your eyes and fake gag, but now there was a small flutter in your stomach and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Why not? The guy had his hands up my dress, I think I have the right to know.” There was a slight shake to your otherwise determined voice.

Billy must’ve caught it because he gave you a quick glance, gaze shooting down to your exposed thighs before he looked away. He cleared his throat and flicked the indicator to make a turn into your street.

“Maybe you should invest in pepper spray.” He said.

It didn’t take a genius to see how he was clearly avoiding answering you.

“Billy.” You said in your best no-bullshit voice.

The boy in question hung his head for a few moments, the ringlets of his bangs following the movement. He blew out a breath that sounded a lot of frustration and sucked his teeth.

“Fuck, fine.” His eyebrows pulled together before he relaxed his face and finally answered. “The douchebag got caught with his hands up Paisley Newman’s skirt behind the bleachers while she was telling him to stop.��

You sat back in your seat, mouth slack. Billy flicked his barely touched cigarette out the window.

“Paisley the cheerleader?”

Billy grunted but gave no further information. You knew Jason was an asshole, he’d be insistent and hardly take no for an answer but you didn’t imagine he’d dare lay hands on someone without their consent. You grimaced. Well, at least that’s what you thought before tonight.

Paisley Newman was also one of the nicer cheerleaders in the squad and that’s where most of her popularity derived from. She loved what she did, which was why it came as a shock to most students in school when she’d one day quit out of nowhere. It hadn’t made sense back then, but it all became a little clearer now.

Jason must’ve been her final straw. The cheerleaders shared the auditorium with the jocks. Seeing someone who’d sexually assaulted you every day must’ve been awful.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you hadn’t realised that Billy had parked in your driveway, ignition shut off. It was quiet without the loud rumbling of the motor, and suddenly you realised that you didn’t want to be alone.

You briefly considered walking back to Nancy before remembering that she’d stay at Jonathan’s tonight. Steve was still at the party and Robin lived too far away to walk or bike.

“Do you wanna stay?” Your mouth asked before your mind could catch up, meeting Billy’s disbelieving eyes as he turned to squint at you in the darkness of his car.

He clearly wasn’t expecting that, and neither were you.

“What?”

You’d assumed he would say yes and suddenly repeating the question felt ten times more embarrassing and terrifying all at the same time.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t -“ you cut yourself off when Billy’s eyebrows climbed higher in amusement.

“You askin’ me to spend the night, sweetheart?” His voice had a teasing lilt to it.

You hated how it made your stomach clench up.

“No.” You glared at him, but his smirk stayed as he regarded you silently. “Just for a movie or something. I kinda don’t wanna be alone.”

Billy’s hands fell from the steering wheel as he craned his neck to peek out the windshield. The neighbourhood was quiet, void of trick-or-treating children considering it was way past their bedtime. His eyes flitted to your house, taking in the dark windows and looming stature.

“My parents are out of town.” You replied before he could ask.

He looked at you before nodding once, reaching to pull the key out of the lock cylinder. You hurried to scramble out of the car, shivering when the cold air hit you full force. The slams of the car doors echoed and you didn’t wait for him to reach your side of the car before you started walking up to your front door.

The scuffle of Billy’s shoes let you know that he was following you, and you hurried to unlock the door and step inside.

It was silent between the two of you, and you tried not to let the awkwardness show on your face as the both of you kicked your shoes off.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You asked when you passed the kitchen.

“You don’t need to get me drunk to fuck me, dimples.”

You rolled your eyes in hopes that he wouldn’t see your flustered expression, walking into the kitchen to retrieve two bottles of water before you started ascending the stairs.

The both of you entered your room, silence thick between you as you set the water bottles down on your bedside table before reaching over to click the bedside lamp on.

It was clear to the boy that you were nervous. He could see it in your restless movements and your shifty eyes. It wasn’t unusual of him to fluster you but you’d always come back with a biting response that had his stomach clench up with want. He’d had plenty of girls who acted the way you did, puttering around your room to have something to do, anything to avoid looking at him. He would usually put his charm on and literally seduce their pants off, but this was you. He felt a little lost on what to do or how to act.

Billy took to looking around the room in silence, taking in your sage wallpaper and the photos and posters pinned to it. He eyed your vanity cluttered with makeup and other crap, before he settled on your bed. The room looked exactly like he’d imagined it.

“So.” He sucked his teeth, and you tried not to think of how attractive he looked.

“I’m just gonna have a quick shower, need to get the smell of booze off of me. And the fake blood.” You grimaced at your arm. “Do you mind waiting?”

He smirked then, the prospect of seeing you showered and void of any cosmetic crap on your face secretly thrilled him. He couldn’t say that he minded your Madonna costume though. You looked like an angel wrapped up in sin.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at the name, but there was a slight tug to your lips and Billy counted that as a win. He watched you turn around to grab a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before pausing at a drawer. His interest piqued when you cautiously glanced over your shoulder, blushing when you caught him staring. You sighed and opened a smaller drawer before plucking out a pair of panties that you hid behind the shirt in your hands.

Billy grinned. Blue cotton. Of course.

“Make yourself comfortable.” you said to break the silence and then paused when you saw him raising his eyebrows.

You narrowed your eyes in thought before turning around to your drawers. If only to evade his piercing eyes.

You knew rifling through your drawers was futile; There was nothing there that was fitting enough for Billy to wear, and standing with your back to him made you a little nervous. You could feel him observing you as he sat perched on your bed, so you made a noise in your throat and moved on to the next drawer.

It was almost like universe was on your side for the first time tonight, because staring right back at you were Steve’s shorts he’d forgotten on one of your many group sleepovers. You picked it up and sent a small apology to your friend as you turned around. Steve would cry if he knew who was wearing his clothes.

At some point, somehow, Billy had shed his jacket and was sitting in his jeans, bare torso on display. You’d seen it a hundred times before; gym class, at the local pool, outside Max’s house as he tinkered with his Camaro when you picked her up. The boy loved going topless any chance he got. But the sight still made you falter.

“Here,” you threw the shorts over to him, watching him catch it in silence. “Those are Steve’s, but you can borrow them for tonight.”

Billy’s lips stretched into a slow smile and the sight almost made your knees knock together.

“Have a thing with, Harrington?” He waved the material in his hands.

You couldn’t resist your grimace, arms folding against your chest.

“What? That’s gross. Steve’s just a friend.”

Billy grunted.

“Can’t blame a guy for askin’,” his voice was low. “Wouldn’t wanna step on his toes.”

That made you let out a surprised laugh; it sounded too loud in the quiet room but you couldn’t help it.

“Oh please, you’d walk all over Steve if you could.”

Billy narrowed his eyes, but he couldn’t take much offence when you were finally looking like you’d loosened up a bit. The tension was still in your shoulders, but your face was smiling.

“Are you gonna shower?” He asked in annoyance.

You smiled.

“I’m going.” You turned around and started to walk towards the joined bathroom.

Billy let his eyes slide down your legs, taking in the smooth expanse of them as they moved. Fuck. He’d fantasised so much about having them wrapped around him. It was sick how much they affected him but how could they not? You loved your shorts in the spring and your flowy skirts in the summer.

He didn’t realise that you’d turned around, his eyes shooting up with a guilty expression on his face to find you staring at him with raised eyebrows. You didn’t look particularly mad, just smug. Your heart was doing somersaults, though.

“Try not to do anything stupid until I get back.” You said, voice slow like honey and Billy smiled in amusement when you glanced pointedly at your underwear drawer.

He hadn’t planned to snoop. He hadn’t, really. But you’d put the thought in his head and now it was hard to think of anything else. You left him to battle with his own mind, closing the door behind you to grab a quick shower and scrub the night off your skin.

When you’d stepped out and dried yourself enough to struggle into your clean clothes, your stomach was twisting into knots. The thought of Billy Hargrove sitting in your room on the other side of the door was odd. You never thought he’d be even close to your house, but you somehow - behind your jitters - felt safe. He could be an asshole, a player, whatever Hawkins residents had labelled him. But he had been nothing but gentle and protective over you tonight, when it mattered the most. No one had batted an eye when douchebag Carver had cornered you, but Billy had been two seconds away from beating the crap out of Jason and that counted for something.

Billy was lying on your bed when you stepped into your bedroom, in Steve’s shorts and a bare chest with his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling with a contemplative tilt of his lips. He sat up slowly when he heard the door open and the both of you locked eyes.

“You hungry?” You asked, draping your wet towel over your desk chair.

Billy’s eyes never left yours as you walked around in the room, and he shook his head lightly. He wasn’t even sure what you had just asked him, too busy staring at your wet hair dripping down your cotton shirt and your bare face on display. It was clear that you were a little nervous, or maybe just feeling out of place so Billy averted his eyes and swung his legs up on your bed to sit with his back to the headboard.

“So what are we watching?”

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go ahead and watch those horror flicks that Robin had picked up from work. You were beginning to regret this horror movie. It was interesting, but it had you feeling on edge as you sat with your legs hidden under the covers and hands covering your eyes, only thirty minutes in.

“For someone who was so insistent on watching this shit, you sure hide your face a lot.” Billy’s voice broke the tense silence.

You let your hands fall to your lap, a glare making its way to your face when you looked at him. He looked amused, arm behind his head and half sunken in your bed. The epitome of comfortable. The difference between your straight and tense back versus his placid form was laughable.

“It’s scary, okay?” you couldn’t help but giggle at the situation though. “This is all Robin’s fault.”

Billy huffed out a laugh, glancing at the screen.

“She’s got a weird taste in movies.” he muttered.

You tried to imagine him saying that to Robin’s face, and it made you grin when you turned back to watch the movie. Almost immediately, as if to taunt you, there was a jump scare that had you gasping and your hands shoot up in front of your face.

“Shit!” You swore quietly, separating your fingers slightly to peek through at the television screen.

The blood, gore and screams made you wince and your stomach roll. Maybe you should’ve gone with a milder movie that didn’t require you to watch it through your fingers or behind a throw pillow.

Billy was having the time of his life though. He had spent the past hour watching your face for reactions, the bend in your eyebrows and the sparkle in your eye as the light from the screen reflected in your eyes. It was dark, but he was mesmerised by your facial expressions and gasps. He didn’t know if you were aware of your little hums you made every time there was something particularly interesting happening in the movie. If you’d turned around right now and asked him to name one thing happening in the movie, he’d give you absolutely no correct answer.

He grew bored quickly though, abandoning the movie completely in lieu of watching you instead. His eyes started wandering from your face, taking in the curve of your chest and he almost squirmed when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra. Your t-shirt was a size too big, but you’d hooked an arm right beneath your breasts and he could see your nipples poking through the thin material.

Your jumping almost made him jump, and he couldn’t help but grin at your silent curse words that were tumbling out of your mouth in distress. He didn’t even think twice about it before reaching an arm out, breaking the barrier between you two.

You glanced down at his hand he’d clasped around your arm, eyebrows rising in question when you met his eyes in the darkness. He tugged and you tried to ignore the similar tug in the pit of your stomach when he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

“C’mere,” he grunted and you followed him without question.

You situated yourself in the middle of your bed, breath stuttering when he draped an arm around you to pull you into his naked chest. He was warm, way warmer than you expected, and you tried to calm your racing heart when you made yourself comfortable in his arms.

“Good?” He whispered, a slight rasp in his voice.

You hummed your assent, tucking a hand under your head where it rested on his pec.

It was hard to concentrate on the movie beyond that point, the gentle pulse of his heart under your hand was distracting you to the point where you started squirming. It didn’t take long for the boy under you to notice, grunting when you accidentally elbowed him in the side.

“Sorry.” You whispered, embarrassed.

He didn’t say anything, but his fingers found your chin to lift it up so you could look at each other. You hadn’t really let yourself think of how fucking intense his eyes were before, but it was hard to keep that thought away when they were boring into yours and clearly memorising every bump and scar on your face. You squirmed, shyly this time, and Billy tightened his grip on your chin; Thumb digging into your skin.

”What?” His voice carried over the sound of the movie.

A movie you’d once been immersed in but now acted as background noise. You frowned at the teasing smile pulling at the corners of his lips, trying your best not to let your gaze drop to the movement. You didn’t know if it was his sweltering skin, or your temperature rising above average, but you were starting to feel warm.

You didn’t know why you did what you did next or where your courage came from, but you found yourself pushing yourself up to peck his lower lip. It looked inviting, and the small graze of your lips against his was soft. His eyebrows rose comically, as if he hadn’t expected you to do that.

“Sorr-“ the apology died on your tongue, sharp gasp taking its place when he leaned down to kiss you, lips more insistent than previously.

You lost yourself in his taste, the slow slide of his tongue as he smoothly pushed you down on your back so he could crowd your space. He tasted of cigarettes and minty chewing gum you always saw him smacking on, an intoxicating mixture that had you opening your mouth wider so he could kiss you deeper. You felt it in your toes, thighs struggling to close but his body was in the way and he clearly liked the way your thighs felt around his hips.

“Fuck, dimples.” He groaned against your mouth, sliding his lips across to your jaw to suck at the sensitive skin there.

You felt your eyes roll at the sensation, raising your hips up so you could grind your centre against his. He responded with a growl, one hand sliding into your hair to grip it tightly.

“Why do you call me that?” You asked, curiosity finally getting the best of you at the worst of times.

Billy loved on your lower lip, teeth sharp and tongue wet as he mumbled out an absent what? in response. He was relentless in his exploring, sucking a filthy path from your lips, jaw down to your throat.

“Always calling me- oh,” your breath hitched when he found your sweet spot right underneath your ear. “Callin’ me dimples. I don’t even have them.”

That had him pulling away, and the downright dirty smile on his face made your stomach twist. He looked sinful, and you found yourself yearning for more.

“Sure you do.” he grinned, planting his arm on one side of you to keep his weight up as to not drop on you.

You gave him a confused stare, hand coming up to play at his messy locks at the nape of his neck.

“Two weeks after I moved here,” he began, his free hand grazing your tummy where your t-shirt had ridden up. “you were standing by the lockers, and you had this fucking top on you. Looked like an angel.”

He trailed off with a smile, his eyes glazing over a bit when he followed the path of his wandering hand, recalling the memory; Reliving it.

“It rode up your back several times in class and I could tell it annoyed the shit out of you,” he suddenly glanced up, locking eyes. He smirked, pulling his hand away from under your shirt to touch your forehead, right between your eyebrows. “could tell because you get this wrinkle right here when something’s bothering you.”

You groaned in mock embarrassment, but it was disguised wonder because you hadn’t realised just how observant Billy was. It was like you were seeing him in a different light.

His hand returned to its former place, resting on the side of your torso as he narrowed his eyes in thought.

“You dropped your notebook in the hallway that day and you bent down, shirt riding up…” he murmured, trailing off to instead slide his hand around your torso and sinking his fingers into your tailbone. “You have two dimples on your back here, baby. Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my fucking life.”

Your chest caved in time with your deep breaths, eyes staring up at him in silence because what the hell were you supposed to say to that? You were turned on beyond belief, and you were sure your eyes were begging him to touch you, fuck you, anything to get rid of this aching need. You would’ve been embarrassed of looking so needy in front of Billy Hargrove, but the moment was so intimate and the amount of detail the boy was paying attention to you made you flush all over. You needed him.

“Had me so hard, I had to sit in my car like a fucking creep and jerk myself off.” He grinned at the memory, looking at you with more heat than you could handle.

The thought of it, although hot, made you giggle. There was something very powerful knowing that you had that effect on him. The known player at school, who’d essentially flirt and fuck anyone with tits and a heartbeat, crumbling just because of back dimples. There was a part of you that was scared of being another notch in his bedpost, but looking at him now, you couldn’t bring yourself to care one bit.

You pulled at his hair slightly to have him lean down, lips seeking out his desperately and he went willingly with a deep groan in his throat. It was clear that he was losing control, arm pulling you flush against his body as he ground himself against you. The feel of his hardness against your pussy made you whimper, teeth biting into his lip a little too harshly. He didn’t mind though, if his moan was anything to go by.

“Fuck me, Billy.” You whispered, feeling your cheeks warm up at the sheer desperation in your voice.

He cursed under his breath, caging your body between his knees as he kissed down your throat; Hands grabbing everything he could reach, like he didn’t know where to start.

You watched him as you caught your breath, the way he pushed your t-shirt up with his ringed hands to kiss your exposed stomach. You had to remind yourself to keep breathing when he snuck his hands under your shirt to grab at your tits. The gasp you let out had him moaning in response as he laved at the skin beneath your bellybutton.

“Smell so good, baby.” He rasped, pressing his nose against your skin and you giggled when he opened his mouth to bite at your flesh. “Gonna fuck you so good.”

One hand let go of your breast to pull at your shorts, your panties following along with them, making a home on your floor and your breath stuttered when the cold air hit your very slick center. Billy tutted loudly, disapprovingly and shoved your thighs apart.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He glared up at you, heat in his eyes as he shuffled down the bed to lick and bite at your thighs.

“Billy, please.” You whispered.

Your hands sought out his tousled hair, fingers digging into his temple when his mouth finally, finally found your core. You yelled out when he went directly for your clit, mouth sucking on it just to get a reaction out of you. His eyes sparkled as he glanced up at you, looking ten different shades of sinful when he widened his tongue theatrically and dragged it from your hole to your clit.

The shudder that went through you seemed to please Billy and he tilted his head to feast on you as you moaned out loud into your room. It was downright filthy, the way he ate your pussy out like a man depraved. The sounds made you turn your head in slight embarrassment, cheek burying into your pillow and eyes clenching shut when he added his fingers into the mix.

They were thick, and he couldn’t get them all the way in thanks to his rings adorning the base of them. But he made up for it easily by crooking and scissoring them as his tongue laved on your bud.

Billy was losing his mind, the shuddering sounds you were making had his hips grinding into your mattress. You looked beautiful with his name on your tongue, voice whiny that quickly turned garbled when he upped the speed of his lapping tongue.

He knew you were on the verge of coming, thighs closing in on his head and hips lifting off the mattress to chase his aching mouth. His jaw was locking, tongue exhausted, chin fucking drenched in your slick but he was determined to make you come before he buried his dick inside of you.

Billy Hargrove wasn’t a relationship kind of guy, he ran at the first sight of attachment from his partners. He loved having sex though, the chase of it all thrilled him to no end and nothing satisfied him more than making a girl come. But that’s where it usually ended for him, he’d get his orgasm and be on his way.

He’d never been so enraptured before, so fucking turned on that he was humping a mattress like he was just entering puberty. The sounds you were making would’ve made him a little worried of your neighbours hearing, but they were like music to his ears so he couldn’t bring himself to care. And his eyes didn’t stray from your face as your back bowed and you screamed into the void, pussy clenching around his fingers and body spasming.

“Yeah, baby. Come for me, fucking squeeze my fingers.” His words were garbled, but your frantic nodding indicated that you’d heard him.

He couldn’t get enough of your taste, tongue digging into the space between his fingers buried inside of you. He was careful to not touch your clit as you came down from your high, but he couldn’t resist a nudge or two with his tongue. Only to watch you squirm and hear your breathing hitch.

You laid there for a long time, chest heaving and eyes locked on your roof unseeing. It felt like you came your brains out, thoughts scattered all over the room and you had no desire to put them all together again.

Billy kisses up your body and you smile when you lock eyes, his own lips pulling into a smug smirk. His chin is glistening with your slick and you weakly reach one hand up to wipe at it, as if to get rid of the evidence.

“You make the prettiest sounds when you come,” Billy says, turning his head into your touch.

You narrow your eyes at him, albeit a little tiredly. Your limbs still feel like jelly and you’re not sure how you’re supposed to function. But you feel like giving back, especially when Billy was so generous and the poking of his hardness against your thigh makes you feel hot all over again.

With a bite of your lip, you reach a hand down and pull him out of his shorts with a soft tug. He’s hard and warm in your hand, heavy and thick in a way that has you writhing beneath him. There are these small noises coming from Billy’s mouth as you collect his precum on your hand, forming a circle around his head and stroking down to the base.

You gaze up at Billy and find that his eyes have fluttered shut at your touch as he thrusts into your grip. His arms that are holding him up tremble, and a hiss escapes him.

“We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to.” He says, breathless. He opens his eyes to look at you, and he almost looks like a deity where he’s hovering over you.

The light from the television behind him was illuminating his form, creating a halo and making him look like an angel. You tilt your head.

“You saying you don’t want this?” You tightened your grip lightly around his cock and he hissed, eyebrows furrowing beneath the strands of his unruly bangs.

He lets his weight drop on you, face seeking out the juncture between your neck and shoulder to kiss at the skin. You let go of him to grab at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as he sucks bruises in your neck. You vaguely wondered how you were supposed to cover the hickeys up, but that concern is out the window when you feel the thickness of his cock brushing against your still slick and sensitive pussy.

“Condom,” you whisper, breathless. “In the drawer.”

He makes quick work of leaning over to yank the drawer open, searching blindly for a foil packet before ripping it open with his teeth. You slide your hand down to touch your clit, only to take the edge off while he rolls the condom on and returns to his previous position of hovering over you.

You reach to guide him into you, gasping quietly as you felt the thickness of his head breach your hole. It stretched, stung for a moment but you forced yourself to relax and focus on his low murmuring against your ear.

It took a few seconds to realise that he was whispering small encouragements, a string of “So tight baby, you’re doing so good for me. Feels amazing, fuck.”. It made you momentarily squeeze him, drawing a shudder from him.

“Yeah?” His breath was warm against your cheek as he nosed the skin there. You turned your head for a kiss, mewling pathetically as he bottomed out slowly against you.

His arms, that were caging you in, trembled and you watched him drop his head as if to collect himself.

“You good?” He asks, voice strained.

“Yeah please, please just fuck me, Billy.”

He doesn’t need any more affirmation than that, sliding out slowly before thrusting back in. It has your eyes shutting tightly and your mouth drop open in an obscene moan. He bites and nips at your jawline, setting a pace of steady, thrusting hips.

The slide of him inside you sets your nerve endings alight, goosebumps raising your skin as he gets up on his knees; Wobbly, eagerly. He eyes you up as he slows his thrusts and your body heats up at the look he gives you.

It’s dark, the movie is still playing in the background and providing little to no light to the room but you’re grateful for it right now as his gaze eats you up. He frowns then, halting his movements and you open your mouth to question him when he grabs your t-shirt and signals for you to raise yourself so it slipped off.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he sounds breathless, hands grabbing your tits in handfuls and thumbs swiping over your perked nipples in a practiced movement. “been waiting to see these for a long time.”

You whimper when he starts fucking you with more force, driving into you in a spot that has your head spinning. “Billy—“

“I know, baby, I know.”

The moan you let out is obscene and the boy falters at the sound of it, hunching over you and pressing his nose against your cheek. He’s groaning in your ear, and you start clenching around his thick cock as you feel your orgasm approach; Slowly, toes tingling and your blood roaring in your ears.

“Mm touch me��” you sound pleading to your own ears, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Especially when Billy doubles down, fucks you harder into the mattress and brings a shaking hand down between the two of you to work on your clit. It doesn’t take much, a few rubs and filthy words panted into your ear and you’re flying off the edge with a scream. You didn’t think you could make a sound as loud as that, but you can’t stop it as you buck your hips and arch your back. Billy’s groans sound like music in your ears when you dig your nails into the small of his back.

It feels like you’ve blacked out, vision spotty and body jerked higher up on the bed as he fucks into you with animalistic grunts. He pulses inside of you, comes with a force that has him trembling in your arms and you hold him close to you in hopes of bringing him some comfort and to calm him down enough to stop the aftershocks.

There’s a distant scream from somewhere and your heart jumps before you register that the movie is still playing in the background. Billy laughs breathlessly at the sudden tension in your body, shifting in your hold to relieve some of the weight off of you. He still doesn’t remove his face from the nook of your neck, and you feel his face change shape as he smiles.

There’s a joke to be made about you getting your brains fucked while the poor girl in the movie is getting hers carved out, but you’re too lazy to voice it out loud.

What you do end up doing is sliding your fingers into Billy’s sweat damp hair, pressing your face to his temple and closing your eyes as your breathing regulates again. He smells like smoke and booze, but there’s a hint of cologne and Billy in there that’s weirdly comforting.

Your legs are starting to hurt so you unclench them from around Billy’s body and lower them gently onto the mattress. A hiss escapes you both as he gently pulls himself out, but he doesn’t move to get rid of the condom or even clean up and it has you giggling as you tilt his head up with the help of your fingers in his hair.

He looks fucked out, lips swollen and eyes dazed and it’s so obscene that you tense your thighs around his form.

“Don’t,” he sounds breathless. “I need a minute to recharge.”

You laugh at that, head thrown back on the pillow and Billy grins lazily at the sound. He slides a hand up from your stomach, over your tits before it makes a home around your bared throat in a gentle grip. It’s a random gesture, but it makes your stomach swoop.

“We’re not going again, I’m too tired.” You whisper, eyes tracking him as he shuffles up a little so you’re face to face.

He doesn’t let go of your throat as he kisses you, licking your bottom lip with a soft groan. It tastes a lot like a promise, but you’re careful to get your hopes up. Because even after all this, you’re still not sure of his intentions. If he decided to up and leave you, you would’ve been okay with it. Your ego would’ve been bruised, heart a little sore and you’d probably not show your face for a few weeks, but you were prepared for either outcome.

“D’you wanna stay the night?” You ask, voice small in the space between your lips. Billy locks eyes with you and you struggle not to go cross eyed as you lean your head back to see him more clearly.

It makes him smile, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Your fingers reach up to his lips, touching the side of his smirk and the prickle of his moustache. “I like this.” You tap his lips, seeing his brow twitch in confusion.

“Like what?”

“Your smile. It’s nice.” You say.

Billy smiles in response and it makes your heart flutter dangerously. You ignore the feeling, feeling a small rise of panic at the unusual intimacy between the two of you. There’s a meagre shift in the air as you come to the realisation that there might be something more going on between you than the usual bickering and playful glares.

There’s not much said as you decide to clean up and recuperate, shutting off the television and pulling your clothes on after your respective trips to the bathroom.

The silence is a little stifling as you lay in the dark next to each other, no other sound than your breathing. That’s why it makes you startle with a gasp when he reaches a hand out and pulls you into him.

“I can hear you thinking from over here.” He murmurs.

You can’t see his face in the dark, but he sounds amused. “I’m just… confused.” You cringe at the vulnerability, as if the boy under you would laugh at your confession.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t. He just grunts as he runs his fingers down your arm, watching your flesh goose pimple.

“Don’t be.” He said, as if it was that simple.

You wondered if it really was as simple as that. But you were curious by nature and you didn’t want to be another girl on his list of people he’d fucked. “It’s hard not to be. We just went from exchanging three words a week to… orgasms.”

Billy’s laughed rumbled in his rib cage and you allowed yourself to smile at the sound.

“I’m just wondering whether I’ll be seeing you with a new girl next week.” Your voice sounds meek, and you regret saying it as soon as the words were out your mouth.

Billy’s wandering fingers stop moving and you stare into the darkness of your room. You listen to his breathing. It’s unnerving, but it’s clear that he’s contemplating his response.

“You won’t.” He settles on at last, voice laced with finality.

“Okay.”

Billy pinches your chin with his fingers and lifts your head up. It’s hard to see him fully, but you can make out the lines of his face thanks to the brightly lit street from outside your window.

He searches your eyes for a moment before leaning in to kiss you. It’s not much in terms of words, but it reassures you enough for tonight.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The sound of a car door slamming from down the street roused you awake. You blinked your eyes open, wincing at the brightness of the room and turning your head to face the other way from the window. The sight of Billy’s sleeping face almost made you jump, heart speeding up as last night came back to you.

It was then that you felt it. Your lips felt dry, cracked from sleep combined with the over excessive kissing last night. And— God, the soreness between your legs was something you hadn’t felt in ages. You felt strangely relaxed though, limbs languid and comfortable.

Billy was sleeping soundly on his stomach, little puffs of air escaping him as he breathed. It was the most relaxed you’d ever seen him, no wrinkle or tension on his face. He looked gorgeous in the morning light, lips pouted naturally and eyebrows slack. You couldn’t keep yourself from bringing a hand up to brush a lock of blond hair from his forehead, careful not to disturb his sleep.

It was a struggle to escape from the bed without making too much noise, but you managed to find your clothes and an additional sweater to pull on top of your shirt because fuck it was cold.

You caught a glimpse of the time - 9:52am - and winced, thinking that you could’ve stayed in bed for a little longer since it was a Saturday after all. You made a trip to the bathroom, freshened up moderately without being too loud and went on a hunt for a spare toothbrush that Billy could use when he decided to wake up.

It was cold in the house and there would usually be some kind of noise in the downstairs area at this time of the morning. Your mom would always play her radio too loud while she puttered around the kitchen and your dad would often talk an octave too loudly.

You walk into the kitchen, preparing coffee and seeking out bread to make cheese toast. The roiling in your stomach doesn’t settle as you think of Billy, about last night and of how it had taken a turn you didn’t expect. Was this only a one time thing? Did he even want breakfast? What if he didn’t like coffee and preferred tea?

A noise from behind you has you whirling around, and you spot Billy walking slowly into the kitchen; Eyes taking in the surroundings before they land on you. You watch his lips stretch into an easy smile and sigh a little in relief because what were you so worried about?

He was still in Steve’s shorts, hair unruly and in need of a shower. He still looked a little sleepy, eyes puffy and bleary eyed in a way that almost made your stomach clench with how adorable he looked. There was something about Billy in the morning that made him look more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him before.

“Smells good.” his voice is raspy from sleep, and he stretches a hand out to scratch at his stomach with a yawn. “Shit, it’s too early.”

“You could’ve stayed in bed.” You said, plating the two sandwiches and reaching for a mug to pour the hot coffee into it.

Billy grunted and you didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t give you time to think on it too hard, your mind going blank when he pressed his front to your back, hands sliding beneath your hoodie and shirt and chin hooking over your shoulder.

“Billy!” You squealed at the touch of his cold hands on your skin, skin rising in goosebumps when he chuckled against your ear.

“Sorry, baby. It’s just so fucking cold.” He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and you wriggled a little in his grasp when his hair tickled you.

“It’s okay,” you picked up his mug and did your best to turn around without spilling it all over the both of you. “I made you coffee. There’s creamer and sugar if you want that. I don’t know how you like your coffee…”

You trailed off awkwardly when you looked up and find him looking right back at you. His amused smile grew bigger and he grabbed the mug, taking a sip of it.

“Your rambling’s cute,” he murmured against the rim of the mug before taking another sip. You narrowed your eyes at him, tracking his movement as he reached around you to set his coffee down on the counter. “I like it black, as it is, by the way.”

He slid his arms around your waist to pull you into his embrace and you let him, humming happily when he slid one hand over the side of your neck.

There was a question in his eyes, you realised, and you nodded your consent before he went in for a kiss, allowing you to taste the mint of the toothpaste and coffee on his tongue. It was a lot chaster than you anticipated, but it had your breath stuttering all the same.

“Good morning.” He murmured against your lips.

“Hi.” You whispered back.

Billy let his fingers slide into your hair, the other hand pulling you in even closer by the waist. He searched your face, blue eyes surrounded by dark eyelashes that most certainly had all the boys and girls envious of them. “You feeling okay?”

The question caught you off guard for a moment before you realised what he was asking. He was concerned. It hadn’t registered your mind that he was searching your face for any clues of discomfort, and that warmed your heart as you put both of your hands flat against his pecs.

“I’m great,” you smiled before you paused. “Are you?”

“Always am.”

The both of you didn’t separate too far from each other, opting to stand close by as you nibbled on your cheese toasties. Billy wasn’t much of a chatter in the mornings, but you had a pleasant conversation as you finished up your breakfast.

You had your back turned to him as you placed the dishes in the sink, making a mental note of washing them later on, when Billy grabbed your hand and tugged when you turned your head.

“C’mere, let me love a little on you.” He said right before he leaned forward to kiss you.

You let yourself get immersed in the taste of mint and Billy, making small noises at the back of your throat when his tongue slid against yours. It wasn’t rough nor particularly passionate, just gentle and slow. The peaceful quiet of the morning was disturbed by a loud rumbling of a car engine outside, and you pulled back from Billy’s hold to look over your shoulder. You peered out of the window looking out onto your driveway and felt your stomach drop at the familiar car pulling in.

Billy could clearly sense your sudden tension, hands gripping your waist lightly, “What? What’s wrong?”

You didn’t respond, watching the doors open and the familiar mop of hair belonging to none other than Nancy come into view. Judging by the distant rambling, Robin was with her.

“Ah,” Billy laughed, prompting you to turn to him. “I’ll go get dressed and leave the mob to you.”

It wasn’t really a secret that Nancy disliked Billy, she’d always found him distrusting and full of himself and you couldn’t blame her. Robin and the rest of your friend group shared the same sentiment and you could only imagine what they’d say if they found out where you’d disappeared last night.

You gave the boy a slight smile, leaning into his kiss when he pulled you into it. It left you in a small daze when he drew back, making his departure from the kitchen and up the stairs. You jumped when the doorbell rang, smoothing your hair down subconsciously as you went to answer the door.

“Where the hell did you go?” Was what you were greeted with, Nancy’s voice shrill and tinged with worry.

“Nance, she’s fine. Don’t be so dramatic.” The other girl said, hand reaching for her shoulder before she drew it back at Nancy’s glare.

“Please, like you weren’t the one coming up with theories about how she was laying in a ditch somewhere.” Nancy gestured wildly with her hands, and you couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping you.

Robin winced as if she was recalling the memory, “Yeah, I’m never drinking tequila again.”

Your mouth dropped open at that, and you almost stomped your foot like a child at her reveal.

“You drank tequila? I missed it!” You said, a little sad because tequila-Robin was the funniest. You couldn’t count on two hands how many times you’d had one too many shots with her and ended up the next morning covered in mysterious bruises or cryptic clues about the night before.

“I mean, you did disappear,” Robin paused with a scrunch of her nose. “Speaking of, whose car is that?”

You felt heat spread over your cheeks as she gestured to the Camaro parked on the driveway, right next to where Nancy had parked her vehicle. They both looked at you, one with her eyebrows raised and the signature stubborn tilt of her mouth and the other with a curious wide eyed look.

Your mouth opened and closed, at a loss of how you were going to tell them the events of the night and morning without making either of them faint or go into hysterical mode.

“Well… it’s a funny story.” You laughed nervously, but you didn’t have time to say more as you realised that you’d completely lost their attention and they were now looking behind you.

Robin made a noise you couldn’t decipher and your mouth opened to question their behaviour when the unmistakable sounds of footsteps thundered down the stairs. God, even his footsteps sounded nonchalant.

“Ladies,” Billy’s voice sounded in the suddenly quiet space, and you turned your head only slightly before he appeared at your side in yesterdays clothes. Like magic. “Dimples.”

You looked at him, poking your tongue into your cheek to keep yourself from smiling at the absolute shiteating grin on his face. He knew what he was doing. Asshole.

“Um— I’ll follow you to your car,” you flicked your gaze to your friends. “you guys can wait inside, I’ll be right back.”

You pushed at Billy to get moving in front of you, and he complied with a smile. The girls waited until you were a little further from them before they started whispering aggressively, reluctantly retreating inside. You watched them over your shoulder with an amused smile, knowing they’d probably press their faces against the window to spy on you.

Billy huffed out a laugh, as if he’d heard your thoughts, and stuck his keys into the door to unlock his car. He left it unopened, opting to look at you instead.

“You’re an asshole.” You said, but your smile was too wide for it to have any real heat behind it.

Billy laughed, and that confirmed everything you needed to know. He wanted to show off to your friends and leave their mouths gaping open. Now you’d have to go in there and probably feed them every detail. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were already calling Eddie and Steve over. You just hoped the latter two were too hungover to answer their phones because you really couldn’t handle both Steve and Nancy at the same time.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t get a kick out of that,” Billy reached out to wrap an arm around your waist, he pulled you into his embrace and you went willingly. You watched his eyes, how they looked breathtakingly bright and blue in the morning sunlight, and the stubble on his face looked enticing. “Wheeler is losing her shit right now.”

“What?” You asked breathily, a little lost in his long lashes and stunning smirk.

He nodded inconspicuously toward the direction of where the window would be, and you made to turn your head but Billy’s tutting stopped you.

“Don’t look,” he murmured, voice dropping low. “Give me a kiss.”

Such a simple sentence. A command. And yet, your toes were curling and your chest was heaving a little deeper as you struggled to breathe. Billy was intoxicating, and you realised you weren’t sure if you were quite ready to let him go.

You stood up on your toes to reach his lips, hands sliding into his hair to grip it firmly as you pressed your lips together. The kiss turned deeper than you expected, his mouth opening yours wider to taste your tongue. A little whimper escaped your lips when he turned his head, nose digging into your cheek and hands sliding over your waist and around to your tailbone.

“Fuck,” Billy cursed as you pulled apart, resting his forehead on yours to catch his breath. “The things you do to me, sweetheart.”

It was cheesy, playful and it made you smile all the same. You pushed at his chest where he’d grabbed one of your hands to press against his naked chest and he stumbled with a teasing laugh.

“You goin’ soft on me already, Hargrove?” There was an unexpected softness to your voice that made Billy smile genuinely.

His smile still jarred you. Whereas before you’d see teasing smirks and dirty bites of his pink lips, you were now seeing a whole new smile. It reached his eyes, made them look brighter surrounded by endearing crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“Never soft when you’re around, baby.” He said and you glared at him.

“Gross,” you said, as if he hadn’t buried himself inside your guts just hours ago. “now get going so the girls don’t explode.”

Billy rolled his eyes, casting a glance behind you to - presumably - stare at Robin and Nancy. He pinched your chin and pulled you into a quick kiss to your mouth before he turned to open the door.

“See you tonight then?” He asked, prompting a confused stare from you.

“Tonight?” your stomach flipped and it felt a lot like hope.

Billy produced a cigarette from the pocket of his leather jacket, sticking it between his teeth and patting the remaining pockets for a lighter. You’re nearly bouncing on your socked feet when he finally looks up at you, smiles around his cigarette at your wide eyes.

“There’s a new diner I wanna take you to,” he says. “we could get some food, maybe catch a movie.”

There was a moment where you thought he’d want to come over just for a quick fuck, but hearing him talk so casually about a date has your mind reeling. Surely it must mean that he wants something more than just sex, right?

You’re nervous to ask, but you have to know just for the sake of your own sanity. “You asking me on a date, Billy?”

He has never heard anything as sweet as your voice saying his name, and it should make him nervous over how fast his heart is beating. But he really can’t bring himself to care.

“That depends.” He answers cryptically.

You raise a brow, “On what?”

“On if you say yes.”

You’re not sure if you’re imagining the slight nervousness in his voice, but it endears you and excites you anyway. It’s with that in mind that you decide to make him sweat a little, giving him a crooked smile and turning around to make your way to your front door.

“Is that a yes, then?” You hear him call and you cast him a look over your shoulder without halting your pace.

“Pick me up at seven.” You reply, getting a quick glance of his smile before he turns and disappears into his car.

You force yourself to keep walking, not looking back once as you open your front door and step inside. Your heart is beating fast and you take a moment to catch your breath when the door’s closed. It doesn’t take long for Robin’s shrill voice to break the silence and you jump.

“Billy Hargrove?!”

Well, shit.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x fem reader #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things fic

5K notes · View notes