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highladyandromeda · 1 month

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The Stolen Pen

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel inadvertently steals a pen from Y/n, his crush. His covert operations to rectify the situation spirals into a comedy of errors…will Azriel be able to return the pen and admit his feelings, or will he forever be labeled as a thief?

Warnings: None, just fluff with stupid decisions, a sprinkle of jealousy, silly mistakes, and perhaps too many details about pens.

A/N: So I was supposed to be writing my other fic, but I was a bit stumped on where to take that…So I started this with the intention of it being a cute, short, one-shot or blurb…but here we are…7k words later….this is a fluffy mess.

“Ohhh there come the lover boy”, Cassian whisper-yells, as Azriel silently slides into the chair next to Nesta in their shared criminal justice elective. His attempt at stealth, however, is foiled by that not-so-subtle announcement. With a scowl aimed at Cassian, Azriel attempts to shrink further into his chair, hoping that their professor remains engrossed in her lecture and oblivious to his tardiness.

“Shhhhhh” Nesta whispered, smacking the back of Cass’s head, giving Azriel some support before she smirked, “He’s not lover boy yet. Have you even been able to say something beyond hello and goodbye?

The question hits Azriel with the force of a freight train, his cheeks burning with a flush that he prays is hidden by the shadow of his hoodie. He's saved from having to voice his defeat by the TA, who chooses that moment to distribute study guides for their impending exam. Grateful for the distraction, Azriel takes out his pen, only to catch the curious—and amused—gazes of Nesta and Cassian directed not at him, but at his hand.

Always self-conscious about his scars, he hunches further into his hoodie, but as he follows their stares back to his paper, Azriel's heart sinks. In his hand lies a distinctly feminine, pink pen adorned with a star or flower emblem at its tip, an object so glaringly out of place in his grip that it screams for attention. The realization hits him like a wave, leaving him momentarily speechless. Oh. Oh.

“Please tell me that's whose I think it is," Nesta teases, barely containing her laughter as she observes Azriel's stunned silence.

At Azriel’s complete silence, Nesta waved a hand in front of his face, glancing at Cassian and mouthing did he stop functioning? To which she got a shoulder shrug in response.

Her attempts to elicit a response from him were futile; Azriel was lost in a haze of embarrassment, fixated on the damning piece of evidence in his hand. Nesta's playful pokes did nothing to snap him out of his daze, and in a moment of sheer mortification, Azriel let his forehead meet the desk with a thud loud enough to turn heads. If he thought he was invisible before, he's anything but now.

Azriel was mortified.

He was utterly and completely mortified. Azriel felt like he was living in a nightmare, one where embarrassment was the main theme, and there was no waking up. He wished for anything—a magic trapdoor beneath his feet, or maybe a sudden, convenient superpower to teleport himself out of this situation. But no, the reality was far less accommodating, especially since he was holding onto something that wasn't his. A pen. Not just any pen, but one that belonged to you, given in a moment of desperation.

Azriel let out a groan, which Cassian tried to cover with a cough that was more like a shout, and Nesta with the dramatic slam of her books. Their attempts were valiant but futile against the tidal wave of Azriel's mortification.

He thought back to earlier in the day, in the calculus class he shared with you, the one in which he always sat in the back corner and one day you came in late, and sat next to him. Somehow, since then, you kept coming back to that spot, and though he replied each time to your good mornings and goodbyes, he wanted to speak up. Maybe ask if you were new because he would've noticed you in the previous math classes. Or maybe inquire if you had transferred, under the guise of offering a tour of the campus. Yet, whenever he caught sight of your ebony hair and the spark in your eyes, words fled from him, leaving silence in their wake.

Just like today, where for once he was there after you…he had made it a bit of a habit to be early to that one class, mainly because it was a class that was important to his major. Of course, he couldn’t finish his computer science degree if he failed multivariable calculus, and the…added benefit of watching you walk into the building from the windows and then up the stairs, always giving him a smile before sitting down, was just that…a benefit.

But yes, today he slept through his alarm, got trapped in a conversation with his elderly neighbor, the one he didn’t know how to escape without Cass or Rhys, was almost run over twice on his motorcycle, and arrived as a verifiable mess to class. After jumping into his seat, he patted himself down so rigorously and nearly up-ended his entire bag trying to find a pen, needing to copy down the partial derivatives he knew the professor would showcase on their next exam.

His frantic search for a writing instrument ended when you noticed his plight and offered yours with a simple, "Do you need a pen?" Frozen, Azriel could only nod, accepting the lifeline you offered but cursing his inability to say anything more–Oh, caldron boil and fry me…

“You stole her pen?”

“I–I didn’t steal her pen, Nesta”

“You stole her pen.”

“Her mount blank pen”, added Cassian, smiling cheekily behind his phone.

“Whose what–Cass, don’t smile at me with fries sticking out of your mouth.” Feyre joins them in their usual diner, sliding into the booth next to Az.

“He stole his crush’s pen,” Cass continues, swallowing his food this time, after Nesta pinched his thigh.

“I didn’t steal her pen!”

“You stole someone’s pen?” Rhys joins, sliding next to Feyre and setting down a tray of milkshakes.

Azriel's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, if that was even possible, under the relentless teasing of his friends. "I didn't steal it. She lent it to me," he mumbled, his voice barely rising over the din of the diner.

"Ah, but you've yet to return it," Rhys pointed out, a mischievous glint in his eye as he took a sip of his milkshake. "Sounds like a classic case of pen-napping to me."

"It's not like that," Azriel protested, but the laughter from his friends suggested they weren't buying his defense. He glanced down at the pen in question, its sleek design and the way it perfectly balanced in his hand making it all the more precious now that it was a symbol of his hapless affection.

Feyre, having quietly observed the exchange with a gentle smile, finally chimed in. "Maybe it's fate, Azriel. That pen could be your excuse to finally talk to her."

Azriel's heart skipped a beat at the thought. Talk to you. Use words this time instead of just nodding like a lovestruck fool. It sounded so simple when Feyre said it, but the mere idea sent his pulse racing.

His thoughts were interrupted by Feyre's voice again, pulling him back to the present. "Wait, Az, can I see it?" Her curiosity piqued, she leaned sideways, her gaze fixed on the pen he held so carefully.

With a hesitant motion, Azriel passed the pen to her, but before she could comment, Rhys's whistle sliced through the din of the diner.

"I take that back, this is definitely a case of pen thieving," he declared, an unusual seriousness lacing his tone that drew the eyes of the entire table.

Rhys sighed, muttering under his breath about uncultured friends, a comment cut short by Nesta's sharp look. "Azriel, that’s a Mont Blanc Pen."

"That’s what I said! A mount blank pen!" Cassian echoed, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and amusement.

Sitting up straight, a sense of urgency overtaking him, Azriel looked from one friend to another, their faces a blend of jest and genuine surprise. Rhys continued, "What that means is it’s quite an expensive pen, Az...I’m sure whoever you borrowed it from will want it back."

The words hit Azriel like a cold wave, his anxiety spiking anew. The fear that you might see him as a thief, as someone who took advantage of a moment of kindness, gnawed at him.

Azriel's mind went back to this morning, the moment of leaving the classroom flashed vividly before his eyes—your parting words, something about the pen, but all he had managed in response was a series of nods, mesmerized by your smile. The possibility that you might have asked for it back, only for him to unwittingly refuse, twisted in his gut. Did your smile mask pity, or was it simply to avoid the brief intimacy of touch?

"Oh, cauldron, I am a thief. I did steal her pen," he muttered, the realization settling in with a weight that was hard to bear. The joke had turned into a confession, the humor of the situation evaporating as the reality of his inadvertent theft dawned on him. He had to make it right, to return the pen and clear the air, hoping beyond hope that you wouldn’t think less of him for this misunderstanding.

“Oh Az, I’m sure it’s not that bad” Feyre hands it back to him, trying to provide words of comfort. “It’ll be fine as long as you see her again.”

This must have been the sixth stare Azriel received, as he shuffled in front of the large windows in the building’s hallway. He supposed he cut quite a figure, dressed entirely in black, complete with a mask and his hoodie covering his entire head. But he was here on a mission, no matter the next group of students he saw from the corner of his eye, whispering and pointing at him. He needed to keep watch and see when you would be walking up to the building. He could only think about your pen for the past 2 days, cursing whatever entity who’d assigned this calculus class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He needed to give it to you today because he wasn’t sure if he could handle the anxiety all weekend.

At first, he just wanted to leave it on your regular seat and skip class today. Maybe leaving behind a cute note with the pen, asking to treat you to coffee in return for his unintentional theft. But, then he spiraled, what if you no longer went to the seat next to him, thinking of him as some ungrateful and lying douchebag. He couldn’t just leave it there for someone else to pick up, especially after Rhys mentioned its exclusivity. He didn’t want to accidentally lose your pen and ruin all chances of ever getting to talk to you.

But as the minutes ticked by, the usual stream of students thinned…and the bell that marked the start of class echoed hollowly in the emptying hallway. You didn't appear. Confusion, then concern, wound its way through Azriel's thoughts. You didn’t appear. Confusion, then concern wound its way through Azriel’s thoughts. Had something happened? Or had you simply decided to skip class? The latter was a possibility that he simply hadn’t considered, having seen you in every class since the start of the semester last month.

With a heavy heart, Azriel made his way to class, the pen still in his possession. The seat next to him, your seat, remained empty, a silent testament to the day's ruined intentions. As the lecture on derivatives and integrals droned on, Azriel couldn't help but feel the gap next to him acutely, an empty space filled with missed connections and unspoken words.

The clatter and chatter of the diner wrapped around Azriel like a familiar blanket as he sank further into the booth, an attempt to escape the scrutiny he knew was coming. The weekly Saturday breakfast with Rhys and Cassian was usually a highlight, a chance to decompress and share laughs over greasy food. Today, however, Azriel felt the weight of his unresolved dilemma like a lead apron around his chest.

Rhys slid into the booth, arching an eyebrow as he took in Azriel's disheveled appearance. "Looks like someone hasn't slept in days," he commented, his voice laced with concern and a hint of amusement.

Azriel could only groan in response, the word "sleep" feeling foreign and elusive. Cassian's next words did nothing to improve his mood. "He's still a thief," he joked, nudging Azriel with his elbow.

Rhys's surprise was evident. "You still haven't returned the pen?" He shook his head, disbelief and curiosity mingling in his expression.

Cassian leaned back, sipping his coffee. "He hasn’t been able to find her. She skipped class."

The conversation paused as a waiter delivered their usual array of milkshakes and waffles, a temporary distraction from the topic at hand. Rhys, ever the problem solver, wasted no time in offering a solution. "I can see if I can pull some strings, and find her contact information. Or at least her email."

Silence descended upon the table, thick and heavy. Both Cassian and Rhys turned to Azriel, expecting confirmation or at least a nod of approval. Instead, they were met with a profound silence that spoke volumes. The shock on their faces was almost comical.

Rhys was the first to break the silence, disbelief coloring his tone. "Don’t tell me…"

Cassian's eyes widened. "You don’t know her name??"

"Not even her first name???" Rhys added, his voice an octave higher in astonishment.

Azriel felt a flush creep up his neck, coloring his cheeks a deep shade of red. The truth of the matter, laid bare amidst the remnants of breakfast, felt absurd even to him. He had spent the week agonizing over a pen, over missed opportunities and unspoken words, without ever knowing your name.

“But you said she’s in your compsci class?” Rhys continued

Azriel shook his head, “No, we're in multivariable calculus together. But she’s definitely new.”

At Cassian and Rhys's blank stares, Azriel elaborated, “It’s one the hardest math classes, I would have noticed her in the previous levels.”

“Wait Az, pull out the pen again.” Rhys reached his hand over.

His eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, flicking between Azriel and the pen before he floated an invitation his way. "Why don't you take and break and join Feyre and me tonight? We're catching up with my childhood friend—the one who introduced me to Feyre. Actually, Cass, join us and bring Nesta along. We’re meeting at Rita’s as usual so Mor will be there too.

Azriel, however, wasn't so sure. "I don’t know…" he mumbled, lost in his whirlwind of thoughts, missing the significant glances Rhys shot towards Cassian.

As if on cue, Cassian's boisterous encouragement broke through his reverie. "Oh, come on, Az. It's not like the pen's going to grow legs and run off!"

And with Rhys adding, "Give us some company, won't you, Azriel? My dear friend will feel left out among the couples."

With a mix of encouragement and playful ribbing, Azriel found himself agreeing if only to escape the orbit of his own overthinking for a while.

Thus, Azriel found himself stepping into Rita's coffee shop, transformed at night into a cozy jazz club, clad in his finest casual attire. Gone was the hoodie, replaced by a crisp black shirt, his best jeans, and the leather jacket that felt like a second skin. The pen, its significance magnified beyond reason, was securely tucked inside his jacket, close to his heart.

Entering the cafe with Nesta and Cassian, who both looked effortlessly chic, Azriel couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement beneath his apprehension. Rita’s transformed at night from a quaint coffee shop into a vibrant jazz club, complete with dance floors and hidden alcoves, a favorite haunt for their group.

Curiosity about this mysterious friend of Rhys and Feyre nibbled at the edges of his thoughts. Described by Rhys as a "childhood companion" and by Feyre with glowing terms of talent and kindness, she seemed almost too good to be true. Feyre’s stories painted her as a guardian angel of the arts, guiding Feyre through her first year with museum visits and personal tutorials in art history, a beacon of support that enabled Feyre to pursue her dreams in Fine Arts.

Azriel couldn't deny the intrigue, a part of him eager to meet the person who had inadvertently brought both his brothers' such happiness and given him such close friends.

Rita's was a place of warmth and music, where coffee aromas mingled with the sultry notes of jazz, and where the dance floor beckoned the brave. It was here, amidst the casual elegance of his friends, that Azriel hoped to find some semblance of peace.

His heart was already racing from the anticipation of the night, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment he stepped into the semi-circle of his friends and saw her.

The back of a girl, her black tweed jacket adorned with intertwining threads of red and gold, caught his immediate attention. It was a unique piece, one he recognized because it hung over the chair next to him just days ago in calculus. As if on cue, Cassian nudged him forward, breaking his trance and thrusting him into the moment he had been both dreading and longing for.

Time seemed to stretch and bend, each step toward the table feeling like a journey in itself. Then, as Rhys and Feyre stood, pulling the girl up with them, the world snapped back to its rightful pace, but not for Azriel. For him, everything continued in slow motion, the ambient noise fading into a distant buzz, drowned out by the sudden pounding of his heart.

"This is my childhood friend," Rhys began, his voice cutting through the fog in Azriel's mind.

"And my first college friend, Y/n," Feyre added, her smile bright and welcoming. “She just came back from a year abroad, so everyone welcome her well!”

Rhys continued with the introductions, but Azriel heard none of it. His gaze locked with Y/n's, and in that moment, everything else fell away. Her eyes, a captivating mix of curiosity and warmth, seemed to hold him in place, rendering him utterly speechless.

"Oh hi, Azriel!" Y/n's voice, clear and cheerful, attempted to bridge the gap between them. But Azriel remained frozen, caught in the storm of his own emotions, unable to muster even the simplest of greetings.

Then, the silence was shattered by Cassian's laughter. "Sorry about that, Azriel is just too shy, isn't that right?" he joked, clapping Azriel on the back hard enough to jostle him from his stupor. With a friendly push, Cassian maneuvered him into the booth next to Y/n before sliding in next to Rhys and Nesta.

As Feyre drew Y/n back into the conversation, wanting to connect her with Nesta over their love for books, Azriel couldn't shake the feeling of the pen in his pocket. It was as if the object, a simple tool for writing, had become a symbol of all his unspoken words, his hidden desires, and his fear of reaching out. It burned against his thigh, a constant reminder of the words he had yet to say.

As the night wore on, and their friends' laughter filled the air, Azriel found his eyes constantly drifting to Y/n’s, wanting to capture every smile, every glance, every subtle expression that danced across her features. The ambient light of the club, dim and forgiving, cast a warm glow on her face, highlighting the contours and the genuine joy that seemed to radiate from her.

When the girls got up to join the dance floor, a tidal wave of reality crashed over Azriel. Rhys and Cassian's sudden attention, their probing questions about his unusual quietness, felt like spotlights on a stage he wasn't prepared to stand on. "I'm just tired," he managed to say, the words feeling like sandpaper against his throat. "And a bit worried, you know." But his attempt to deflect only invited more scrutiny.

Rhys immediately saw through the facade. "She's the girl, isn't she? That's why she said your name before I introduced you." At Azriel's silence, Rhys elaborated further, “She’s also the one I assumed was the owner of that pen, Y/n has an entire collection of Mont Blanc, and she fits into your description, being technically new as she just returned from abroad.

Azriel’s flush, heavy and telling, confirmed his friends' suspicions without a single word spoken.

“Then this the perfect moment!” Cassian continued. “When she comes back, give the pen and ask to buy her a drink as an apology for the delay”

Rhys perked up as well, hitting Azriel on the shoulder, “Cass is right! I know Y/n, and she’s not one to hold a grudge, especially if you apologize. In fact, get her a tequila daisy, she loves those.”

At his friend’s encouragement, Azriel felt his spirits being lifted. He could do this, he thought, the Mother blessing him with such good luck that he found the girl he was looking today. He should take this as a sign, telling him that this was his time to have courage. As Cass and Rhys shooed him up, spotting the girls returning, Azriel shot back his drink and stood up. With a slightly steadier step, he decided to take a little detour back to their table, positioning himself so he'd see Y/n first. It was a small thing, but it gave him a moment to steel himself, to prepare for her smile, her presence. "Alright, let's do this," he thought, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement.

As Azriel navigated his way back to the table, a sudden wave of nervousness washed over him. The confidence he had just moments ago seemed to evaporate with each step he took. By the time he was close, he found himself unable to meet the gaze of his friends or even Y/n, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, a beacon of his newfound apprehension.

He made a beeline for the chair adorned with the distinctive tweed jacket, so caught up in his thoughts that he completely missed Cassian's worried glance. With a heart racing and a mind swirling with rehearsed apologies, Azriel reached out to tap the shoulder of the person he assumed was Y/n, all the while starting his practiced spiel. "Hey, I just wanted to give you this, I--uh--I'm so sorry couldn't before--let me buy you a drink to make it up—"

His words faltered, dying in his throat as he finally mustered the courage to look up, only to find Elain's familiar face smiling back at him. The confusion was immediate, his brain struggling to catch up with the reality in front of him as Elain, seizing the pen from his grasp, chimed, "Oh, Az, my birthday's still a week away...but thank you so much!" The affectionate kiss she planted on his cheek was meant to be a sweet gesture, yet it only served to heighten Azriel's horror as he watched her examine the pen.

“Oh, that’s so preetty Elain! Mor stumbled by, the alcohol clearly catching up to her by now. “But, why do you have a pen right now? Don’t work, come dance with us! She said laughing, grabbing Cassian on her way back.

Azriel, now left alone with a blushing Elain, had no idea how this happened. One moment he thought he’d finally get to confess to Y/n and the next moment, he’s given perhaps her prized possession, which she lent him, to another girl. It turned out that he was incorrect before, it's clear that the Mother brought up the worst luck he could have.

He needed to fix this.

Now.

And tell Elain that he did have something for her birthday…just not that. Yes, it had to break it to her now.

“I know you said you’d be busy and couldn’t make it to my birthday, but you didn’t have to get me something, Az! This is just my color though…”

Azriel stood there, his mind racing with a mix of panic and disbelief. How had he managed to entangle himself in such an awkward situation? The irony of it all was that he had known about Elain's soft spot for him, a sentiment that had grown perhaps from the time he had escorted her back from class to keep her away from her troublesome ex.

He had considered the possibility of returning her feelings, had even tried to envision something more between them, but his heart never quite made the leap. Elain was wonderful, truly, but the spark he was supposed to feel just wasn't there. And deep down, he knew she deserved someone who could put her at the center of their world, something Azriel couldn't do.

Before he could get a word out, the din of laughter and chatter signaled the return of Rhys and Feyre, their expressions shifting from amusement to confusion as they noticed Elain holding the pen.

Azriel's eyes pleaded for help, a silent, desperate appeal that Feyre caught instantly. She stepped in, her words a flurry of explanations aimed at untangling the misunderstanding. But the situation took another turn with the arrival of Y/n and Nesta, their approach cutting Feyre's explanations short. In a panic, Feyre grabbed Elain's arm, insisting it was late and they needed to leave, effectively dodging the impending awkwardness but leaving the air charged with unsaid words.

Y/n and Nesta returned to find the table enveloped in an unexpected gloom, Rhys and Azriel's expressions painted with unmistakable dismay. The contrast to their earlier mirth sparked immediate curiosity.

"Where did Feyre run off to?" Nesta inquired, her words slicing through the heavy air just as Y/n, with a mixture of concern and confusion, reached out to Rhys. Her fingers brushed his forehead gently, a silent question in her touch. "Are you sick, why do you look so pale?"

Azriel hated the jealousy that sprung up at her actions, especially after what he had done. He immediately chastised himself for the feeling, fully aware that the concern shown was purely platonic. Yet, he couldn't help but long for a similar connection, a moment of care directed towards him, especially from Y/n.

Nesta couldn't resist a teasing jab, her observation laced with humor yet not entirely devoid of truth. "Lovesick more like it," she scoffed, her comment hanging between them like a challenge, prompting a momentary flicker of amusement to dance across Rhys's otherwise somber features.

Nesta’s words, though teasing, unwittingly mirrored the turmoil swirling within Azriel, a turmoil stemming from his unvoiced feelings for Y/n.

Amid the group's subdued atmosphere, Y/n took the initiative, her concern for her friends sparking into action as she decided to fetch water and some food for the table. Once she was out of earshot, Rhys leaned in, his voice low, "Remember when I said she's very forgiving? Well, Y/n is a bit possessive over letting others use her things." Azriel paled considerably.

Upon returning, Y/n placed the food down with a gentle smile, announcing, "I'll find Mor to say goodbye before I have to leave."

Nesta's questioning gaze prompted Y/n to share a bit more about her plans, revealing her Sunday brunch with her father. It was a tradition, yet one that held mixed feelings for her. Rhys, catching the underlying sentiment, ventured cautiously, "First time since you're back...any welcome presents?"

Y/n's nod was accompanied by an eye roll, her voice tinged with a mix of amusement and resignation. "He'll probably gift me a pen, as always." Then, leaning closer to Rhys, she confided in a whisper, "He still thinks I don't know his assistant keeps buying them." Their shared laughter, though tinged with sadness, was a brief respite from the tension of the evening.

As Y/n waved goodbye and made her way through the diner, the weight of what had transpired settled heavily on Azriel's shoulders. Rhys’s earlier statement now mixed with what he had just heard father gets me a pen…hates sharing…

The pen he had intended to return to Y/n, now in Elain's possession, wasn't just any pen; it was akin to a token of her father's affection…

He was so, so doomed.

If Azriel thought he was mortified before, well, it couldn’t be compared to now. His current stakeout, crouched in the dense foliage outside Elain and Nesta’s apartment, felt like a scene straight out of a spy movie—only infinitely less glamorous and with higher stakes.

After searching the entire night for the pen, he realized that you really were Rhys’s friend, the resell prices he found made him want to throw his computer out. But even if he could afford it or request Rhys for help, it seemed that the version you had was sold out. He didn’t even know they made limited-edition pens, let alone ones of this price, were they made of gold? he thought pulling up the product description….set with a pearl…Oh.

Well, that led to his current predicament, knee-deep in the bushes outside Elain and Nesta’s shared apartment. Given that he had borrowed Nesta’s key, which was carelessly strewn on the table of his and Cass’s apartment, he knew she wouldn’t be back for a while. The problem now was getting Elain and it seemed Feyre out…which was why he had texted Rhys an SOS.

As he waited, hoping that no one noticed him acting like an absolute creep, he finally saw Feyre pulling Elain out, something about a project with Lucien?

Whatever, that wasn’t important now. His phone buzzed in his pocket with an aggravated all-clear from Rhys. He knew he owed him and Feyre a lot…and technically Elain and Nesta too. The plan was simple: get in, find the pen, get out.

He had been to their apartment before, but always with the company of someone else, usually Cass when he went to pick up or drop off things for Nesta. It felt…eerie being here alone, and he tried to ignore how much of a creep he felt looking through their things. Yet, despite his efforts, the pen remained elusive, a realization that sent a wave of panic crashing over him.

Mother above, where would one keep a pen?? He checked the various surfaces in all the rooms, he checked Elain’s desk, her vanity, and even her bedside table….he looked at the bathroom counters and even scanned through Nesta’s room. As he debated how many more boundaries he’d cross by opening the drawers, his phone buzzed again, with a text from Rhys, feyre said it's with her *crying face emoji* *crying face emoji*...

It’s with her…it’s still with Elain?! The words echoed in his mind, a mantra of frustration and defeat.

Needing to escape the claustrophobia of his failure, Azriel abandoned his search, the apartment, and any pretense of dignity he had left. He found himself wandering aimlessly, feet leading him through the city's streets with no destination in mind. Hours passed, his thoughts a tangled mess, until the financial center's impersonal skyscrapers towered over him, indifferent to his turmoil.

It was there, amidst the steel and concrete, that a familiar voice pierced through his haze of self-reproach. "Azriel?" Y/n called out, her presence like a beacon in the dimming light.

She emerged from a store, the elegance of her white lace blouse and black slacks contrasted sharply by the vivid red purse she carried. It was the bag she swung from behind, adorned with the same white flower symbol as the pen, that captured his attention, a silent testament to the reason for his current state.

Azriel was at a loss for words, his surprise at seeing her mirrored in the way she regarded him. “I’m surprised to see you here, what are you doing?”

Caught off guard and scrambling for an explanation, Azriel mumbled something about needing a walk, a half-hearted attempt to mask his real reasons for being there.

Y/n's gaze held his, a hint of curiosity mixed with understanding flickering in her eyes. "A walk that led you all the way here?" she asked, her voice soft but pointed.

Azriel felt the inadequacy of his answer hang between them, an invisible barrier he wished he could dissolve. "Yeah, it's been one of those days," he admitted, his voice trailing off, the truth of his statement more profound than he cared to explore.

Y/n studied him for a moment, her intuitive eyes reading the layers of unsaid words. Then, breaking the tension with a smile that seemed to light up the dimming city around them, she said, "Well, in that case, I could use a bit of company. I was about to grab some coffee. Join me?"

Azriel hesitated, the weight of his earlier mission pressing down on him. Yet, there was something about Y/n's offer, an earnest simplicity, that cut through his reservations. "I...yeah, coffee sounds good," he finally said, not surprised at his own eagerness.

Seated in the cozy enclave of the coffee shop, with bookshelves brimming with tales and plants that whispered of care, Azriel found himself enveloped in a warmth that the stark lines of the financial district rarely offered. The glow of the setting sun, filtered through the tall windows, bathed Y/n in a soft light, casting her in an almost ethereal aura. Her laughter, light and easy, filled the space between them as she caught his look of pleasant surprise.

"This place isn't quite the corporate café you were expecting, is it?" Y/n teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Azriel chuckled, nodding. "I was expecting somewhere... more stiff. This is a nice surprise."

Leaning in, Y/n shared her secret with a whisper, "This café is my little escape. Not many know about it here. But trust me, the coffee’s unmatched, and you have to try the food."

As Azriel began to protest, not wanting her to treat him to even more, his stomach betrayed him with a timely growl. Y/n’s laughter rang out again, full and genuine, just as an older lady approached with their order. "Here you go, dear," she said to Y/n, then turned to Azriel with a warm smile. "First time I've seen her bring someone. You take good care of her, okay?"

Y/n’s protest that they were just friends, and really just classmates, did little to deter the lady's knowing look, leaving her a flustered shade of pink as the lady departed. Y/n then explained to a bewildered Azriel about the café's significance to her, a place discovered during times she'd rather forget waiting in her father's stark office, with the building being down the street.

As they shared the meal—Y/n insisting Azriel try her favorite sandwich and a tart chosen especially for him—Azriel marveled at her attention to detail, at the fact that she'd noticed his fondness for blueberries. "How did you know?" he asked, his heart aflutter at the realization that she paid him such mind.

With a shy glance away and then back, Y/n admitted, "I noticed you always carrying around blueberry bars. It's the little things, you know?"

Azriel, moved by her attentiveness and kindness, found himself unworthy of her attention. How could he let her remain ignorant about his transgressions, and watch her smile and laugh with him? But he also couldn’t bear to let her go, not when she made him feel things he thought he’d never be able to. Azriel decided then and there that he would admit his faults and then he would beg, he would plead for her to forgive him, or at least continue to talk to him, after he returned the pen from Elain. And if she refused, then he would accept it, but he would grovel as much as she allowed, if only to not lose the smiles that she sent his way.

"I... I don't deserve your kindness," he confessed, his voice a whisper of turmoil. "Because I'm a thief."

Y/n's eyes widened, confusion and concern mingling in her gaze, "A thief?" she echoed, her head tilting slightly, inviting him to explain.

Azriel's words tumbled out in a frantic cascade, a confession spilling forth about the pen, his failed attempts to return it, not knowing her name and the catastrophic mix-up at Rita's that saw Elain inadvertently receiving what he thought was Y/n's treasured possession. "I know it was a gift from your father... I'll get it back," he assured her, his heart sinking as he prepared for her to walk away, to maybe throw the coffee in his face, for the soft warmth of her smiles to vanish.

But instead of anger or disappointment, laughter bubbled up from Y/n, rich and unrestrained. Azriel lifted his gaze, bewildered, only to find her smiling, her eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine amusement. It was a moment Azriel wished he could freeze and live in forever, were it not for the fear of her next words.

From that dreaded black bag, she produced a sleek box, emblazoned with Mont Blanc, and Azriel's heart sank. This was it, the moment of reckoning. He half-expected her to reveal a price tag that would make his eyes water, a reminder of his foolishness. Instead, Y/n unveiled a pen, its body a dance of blue and white lacquer, sparkling with what he could only guess were jewels.

Y/n shared a piece of her past with him then, her voice soft and nostalgic. She spoke of her younger self, who found more joy in the worlds of books and art than in the dry texts of study.

"I used to collect colored pens, fancy ones that made writing notes less of a chore," she explained, gentle laughter threading through her words. She revealed how her love for calligraphy had blossomed from there, a passion she had hoped would catch her parents' attention.

The story took a turn Azriel hadn't expected. "For every achievement, every missed event, every return home, I got a pen. I thought it was my father remembering my words, but," she chuckled, shaking the elegant pen in her hand, "it turns out it was his assistant who remembered. My father doesn't even use fountain pens."

She waved the decorative pen with a flourish, proclaiming it beautiful but utterly impractical. "They're more for show than anything else, the nibs aren’t even correct for the type of stylized calligraphy I enjoy. I still keep them, just locked in a drawer at my apartment. But for everyday use, I stick to the rollerballs from Mont Blanc. They're just easier."

Y/n paused, eyeing him with a playful curiosity. "The pen was pink, wasn't it?" At Azriel's nod, she continued, "I swapped that one with a friend. Not really my color, but she wanted to exchange it for a white version that wasn’t available abroad.”

Azriel nods, still caught in the whirlwind of his own confessions and fears.

She shrugs lightly, her gaze drifting down to the black box, "Mont Blanc treats me too well and sends me many extras because I’m on their VIP list due to my father’s assistant. I don’t mind, though. It’s nice to know they’re going to someone who appreciates them."

Azriel's mind races as he tries to process this. The pen, the source of so much turmoil, was just one of many to Y/n, an item of little consequence. Yet, feeling a sense of responsibility, he insists, "I’ll get it back for you. It was yours, after all."

Y/n's response is a gentle wave of dismissal. "You don’t need to worry about it, Azriel. You didn’t steal it. I told you to return it whenever you wanted. I just...hoped it would make you think of me." Her voice fades, a note of melancholy creeping in as she turns her face away slightly, hiding the vulnerability in her eyes. "I guess you didn’t, though. Do I bother you, sitting next to you in class?"

The earnestness in her question, the raw hint of insecurity, pierces through Azriel's defenses. He reacts instinctively, his words tumbling out in a rush to bridge the gap his silence had created.

"Bother me? Y/n, you’ve been...I’ve been trying to find the words to talk to you since you first sat next to me. You don’t bother me; you distract me because...because I think you’re beautiful."

The confession hangs in the air between them, a fragile truth that sends a blush creeping up Y/n's cheeks. Azriel's heart pounds in his chest, his earnest declaration laying bare his feelings.

"So, friends?" Y/n ventures after a moment, her voice steady but her eyes searching his for an answer.

"Friends," Azriel agrees quickly, too quickly, perhaps, because what he really wants to say is so much more. "But, I'm hoping for more than that," he added under his breath, a vow to himself as much as to her.

Y/n's smile in response is shy but hopeful, a silent agreement to the unspoken question hanging between them. In the quiet of the café, amidst the scattered pens and the remnants of their past misunderstandings, they find a new beginning.

A/N: The pen Y/n received above! So, I have no idea where this story was meant to go. I just had the idea to write about Azriel doing something silly because he was so distracted by a crush, which became him unintentionally stealing a pen. After all, I have an obsession with pens due to the same reason Y/n said...And then this spiraled a little too much into my own uhh grievances with pens, calligraphy…and uhh parents. ANYWAYS, I hope this made you all laugh and fyi Mont Blanc does make great pens, I highly recommend their roller balls and fountain pens, though some are so extravagant I can’t imagine ever using them.

#azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar series #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel x oc #rhysand #morrigan #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #acotar modern au #silly aus #i rushed the ending #should i continue Azriel's silly antics?

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 2 years

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A SWEET TREAT- STUCKY

Pairing: Roomates! Stucky x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: while eating the best ice cream you’ve ever tasted, you teasingly confess to your roomates you’d let ben and jerry do anything they wanted to you. the next time you open the freezer, their names have been crossed out, and replaced with bucky and steves. be prepared for a treat much sweeter than ice cream...

Warnings: SMUT, threesum, blowjob, praise kink, degradation kink, petnames, masturbation mentioned, finger sucking & gagging, sub space, size kink/ belly bulge, small daddy kink, swearing, teasing, bucky speaking russian bc oh my god that needs its own warning

Notes: in honour of summer being near, i made this while eating some BOMB ass ice cream! if ur lactose intolerant, you arent in this fic, hop on the dairy train bb;)

As Steve dug in his pocket, pulling out the apartment key that jangled with the little heart-shaped keychain you had made him, he was not expecting to hear a loud moan come from the other side of the door.

It made him stop in his tracks, key halfway in the lock as he froze, eyes widening.

It was your moan.

He could recognise that sweet, high-pitched whine anywhere.

Whenever you thought he and Bucky were asleep, he could hear you moan into your pillow through the paper-thin walls, hand between your legs at an odd hour of the night. He never told you could hear you, knowing you’d be too embarrassed to do anything in the apartment again.

And that wouldn't work for Steve.

He craved those sweet noises like a drug, often slipping his hand down to stroke his cock in rhythm with your moans.

But it wasn't very late, and it wasn't far enough to be in the comfort of your bedroom. Was Bucky fucking you? He and Bucky had discussed it many times, often fantasying over you together, talking about every little way they’d fuck your gorgeous body, but was he seriously doing without him?

The thought of Bucky touching your pretty little body without him present had him slamming open the door at an alarming speed, handle banging into the wall hard enough to scratch the paint.

You jumped from the sound, stumbling back into the fridge with your ice cream in hand. Steve looked at you with a wild look in his eye, appearing to be searching for Bucky.

“Could you slam the door open any harder Stevie? The wall told me earlier today it wanted a massive hole in it.” you grumbled, attempting to catch your breath from the scare. Clutching the carton of ice cream tightly, you padded over to the couch just as Bucky stepped out from his room, hair still wet and dripping from his shower.

You gulped at the sight of his bare chest, abs gleaming in pretty shades of pink as the sunset spiled in through the windows. Sweatpants were slung low on his hips, a look of confusion on his face as he noted Steve shaking his head, shutting the door behind him as he slung off his shoes.

“You okay punk?” he asked softly, making his way to you on the couch, sliding your bare legs across his lap, watching with delight as the oversized shirt you wore of Steve’s slid up to reveal your thighs.

“Mhmm. Thought I heard something, that's all.”

You stopped mid-bite, realization hitting you like a freight train. Turning to face him, you quickly grabbed a pillow, throwing it with all your might at the blonde.

“Steven Grant Rogers! You came bursting through that door because you heard me moan?! You pervert!” you shrieked, making Bucky howl with laughter. “Hey you said it!” he grinned, grabbing the pillow and throwing it on the chair.

“You boys are gross. Let me enjoy my ice cream in peace.” you sighed, adjusting yourself so that Steve could sit with you and Bucky on the couch, resting your head on his knee. “Go ahead bunny. Stevie won't bother you anymore.” he grinned, eyes filled with delight as he raised his eyebrow at the blonde, patting your calf gently.

“Better not.” you grumbled, scooping out a chunk of cookie dough from the ice cream. “I’m not that gross. Just sometimes.” Steve smiled, his hand coming down to stroke your hair, watching your face confront in pleasure as you chewed the cookie dough.

“All guys are gross, you all got cooties.” you grumbled, mouth full, as you rolled your eyes. A little smack on your thigh made you yelp, Bucky's hand rubbing over the bare flesh where he hit you lightly.

“You take that back bunny!” he laughed, watching you attempting to kick his arm, with no success. “Never. Never ever.” you smiled, spooning more ice cream into your mouth.

The chocolate flavors melted on your tongue, the traces of brownie and cookie dough still lingering as you swallowed. “This is genuinely the best thing I’ve ever had in my entire life. Oh my god, I would let the people who made this do whatever they wanted to me.” you moaned, purring in delight as Steve’s fingers began to comb through your silky strands, scratching your scalp gently.

“Anything?” Bucky asked, eyebrow raised as he looked over at Steve.

“Anything.” you replied, too lost in the ice cream and the feelings of Bucky's hand stroking your soft skin to notice the look of amusement on each of their faces, wicked grins and winks being exchanged back and forth.

“I’m gonna hold that against you dolly.” Steve sang, making you laugh.

Oh, you were in for a treat. One much sweeter than that ice cream indeed.

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

“Didn’t I say I’d hold those words against you honey?” Steve asked softly, gripping your chin so you were forced to look into his baby blue eyes, the mock pity etched on his face as Bucky pounded into you from behind.

You were much too gone to speak, the snarky, quick-witted reply you had so desperately wanted to say back stuck in your throat. Only a low whimper had left your lips that were now shaped in an O-shape, eyes widened to saucers as Bucky gripped your hips even tighter.

Although you were at a loss for words now, you were beyond thankful you weren't on that couch, spilling your guts about every little position you’d let the ice cream company hit, teasingly.

The next time you had opened that same freezer, spoon in hand as you reached for your little carton, you froze.

No longer was it Ben and Jerry’s, but Bucky and Steve's name written in black sharpie.

“Oh my god, I would let the people who made this do whatever they wanted to me.” “Anything?” “Anything.”

You had shut the freezer with a soft slam, surprise written all over your face as Bucky and Steve strolled into the kitchen, grins evident on their faces as your arms limply fell to your sides.

That was how you had ended up here, in this position, one of many you had spilled to the boys. Bucky pounding into you from behind, Steve's hands teasing you until you cried.

“There's no point in talkin to her punk she's a goner.” Bucky chuckled, his thrusts making you cry out, your eyes beginning to glaze over from the stimulation he was giving you.

He growled as you clenched around him, your toes curling from the way his cock prodded your g-spot, the way you could feel him bulging through your belly.

“Oh don’t be so rough with our doll Buck. She’s just a lil thing compared to us.” Steve warned, the bulging veins from the back of his hand stroking your cheek lightly as you inched forward with every one of Bucky's ministrations.

“S’tight I can’t help it.” he growled roughly, arm slipping under your stomach as your now shaking legs were unable to keep you up on all fours. “I gotcha bunny you just keep your eyes on Steve okay? Don’t want you passing out on us just yet.” he winked, laughing at your little ahs you let out with each movement.

“Stevie…” you trailed off in a daze, head becoming light and cloudy as you stared at the smiling man in front of you. “Yes honey I’m right here. Open up okay sweet girl?”

You nodded slowly, mouth opening wider as he slipped his two fingers inside, your tongue swirling around his digits with a strangled moan. “Ohhh she likes that. Keep doin that punk.” Bucky moaned, feeling you clench tighter around him the further back Steve's fingers went.

Suddenly, his large fingers hit the back of your throat, making you cry out as you choked around him. “Shhh, I’m preparing you sweetheart. Something someone should have done before they started rutting into you like a bitch in heat.” Steve narrowed his eyes up on Bucky, in to which Bucky just shrugged as if to say oh well.

You whined as he slid his fingers out, wrapping his tongue around them and sucking your saliva clean off them with a boyish grin.

“Okay doll you ready?” he asked gently, beginning to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail. The same hair he was stroking and playing with, so innocently as you ate your ice cream.

Oh how the table have turned indeed.

“Course she's ready, little bunny wants to be filled from both ends.” Bucky smirked, thrusting into hard and rough as you nodded in agreement, staring up at Steve as he now towered over you. “Is that right baby?”

“Yes daddy.” you whispered hoarsely, sticking your tongue out in obedience.

“Oh fuck…” Steve moaned, bringing his hard, aching cock to your lips. You lapped at the precum that coated the tip, moaning as he yanked your hair so you were forced to meet his eyes.

“Eyes on me. Got it?”

You nodded, purely dumbfounded. A sharp thrust from behind had you keening, and you wrapped your lips around Steve's cock, hollowing your cheeks as you took him down your throat.

Fresh tears stained your flushed cheeks as Bucky slapped your ass harshly, Steve’s control of your head making you take him deeper and deeper. You moaned, the vibrations around his cock making him growl as he began to fuck your throat in perfect harmony with Bucky.

The sight of Steve's head thrown back in pleasure, his adams apple bobbing as you pleasured him made your core tingle, flames licking down your spine as you felt release in an arms reach.

“такой милый кролик…” Bucky moaned, his own orgasm approaching as you gripped him tightly. “Buck she's gonna cum.” Steve whispered, frantic eyes meeting your own, your tears and hiccups turning them on even more.

“I know… can feel her squeezin the life outta me.” he replied with a grunt. “Let go, sweetheart, we’re right here with you.” Steve cooed softly.

Those were the words you needed to hear.

The coil in your belly snapped, your vision turning white as you came all over Bucky's cock. The sensations were overwhelming, each muscle, bone and blood cell consumed with pure pleasure as the men continued to use you, riding you through your orgasm.

“Oh godddd-” Bucky moaned, hips stilling as he spilled inside you, his cream coating your spongy walls as you shook from under him. Steve followed suit, his cum trickling down your throat, the taste bitter yet sweet as you swallowed every last drop he gave you, his sweet praises encouraging you to lick him clean.

“Such a good girl sweetheart, we’re so proud of you.” he smiled, slowly pulling his cock out of your mouth, watching you sputter for breath.

“You are?” you croaked, sniffling as your arms could no longer support you either. “Yes bunny we’re so proud of you. But we’re not done just yet.” Bucky smiled, his hands slowly guiding you upwards on your knees, his cock still firmly inside your weeping hole.

The look he gave Steve had you whimpering, the light in his eye meaning there could only be trouble brewing in that filthy mind of his.

“Switch Stevie?”

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keiho · 10 months

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— K.TH | breeding kink drabble

#tags — kang taehyun x fem!reader | smut, drabble hc #contains — breeding kink focus, hair pulling, degrading (like...a lot), praise, rough to gentle, some aftercare, dom!th #warnings — lowercase intended, not proofread #words — 673 #thoughts — pt 4/5 !! check my txt masterlist for the other parts | this was longer than i intended for it to be.......😁 #note — this is my orignal work; @keiho june 2023. do NOT repost.

taehyun's fingers slide lovingly through your hair, working their way up from your nape before he tightens his grip, pulling your head back.

he's got you bent over the kitchen counter, driven mad from the sight of you in his t-shirt. it's only 10 in the morning; you've been awake for maybe 30 minutes, and he's already made you cum. three times.

another weak moan slips from your lips and he growls in your ear, smiling sadistically.

"just like that, take it," he whispers. his voice is quiet but it's still harsh and degrading, almost verbally punishing you for getting him so worked up. "take my cock, fucking into you 'cause you had to wear this." he pulls at the hem of your — his — shirt with his other hand. he suddenly decides that it'd make good leverage, knotting it up in his hand to hold you steady while he fucks you.

your legs start to shake. your calves feel like they're on fire from propping yourself up on your tip-toes for so long, but suddenly the pain is drowned out as a fourth orgasm begins to build.

"yeah? you like this, slut? you like it when i fuck you like this," he growls when he feels your pussy clench around his cock. "fucking you over the counter like a little fuckdoll."

you moan at his words, every little thing pushing you quickly towards your orgasm.

"bet you want me to cum in you too," he groans, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back into you. you damn near scream out his name at the feeling, his cock hitting a depth you didn't know was possible, sending a dizzying wave of pleasure through your body.

you nod as best you can with his hand in your hair, making him chuckle darkly.

"naughty fucking slut aren't you," he moans out, feeling his own orgasm approaching. his voice softens a bit when he asks, "do you want me to cum inside you, baby? hm?"

"p-please," you manage to force out, your voice strained as you hold back your orgasm, waiting for him to give you permission.

"mmh, good fucking girl." he lets go of the shirt and reaches down and around your hips, slipping his hand between your legs to rub at your clit hastily. he loosens his grip on your hair enough for you to quiver the way you always do as your orgasm hits you like a freight train.

the sensation of your cunt squeezing around his cock makes his hips stutter, a broken groan erupting from his throat as he pushes himself deeper just once more.

"don't move," he whispers gently, carefully letting go of your hair. your chin falls to your chest immediately, your body weakened by your overwhelming orgasm.

he laughs a little at this, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to your shoulder through the fabric of your clothes.

"you did so good for me, baby," he tells you. he's slow to pull out, conscious of how sensitive you are. when his cock slips out of you, his cum almost immediately follows, trickling out of your pussy into a little puddle between your feet.

"you're mean," you say breathlessly, making taehyun laugh faintly. he softly pulls you into a standing position, moving to effortlessly lift you into his hold. bridal-style, he carries you to the couch, setting you down on the plush surface with care.

"i know i am, but you made me feel so good." he nuzzles his nose against yours affectionately, spreading your legs. "just one more thing," he says. he slips his hand between your thighs, running his first two fingers over your pussy. you gasp loudly and your hips thrust into his touch involuntarily.

"t-tae, i can't—" you whine, too overstimulated for more.

"i know baby, i won't," he whispers. when his hand comes back into view, his fingers are covered in a mix of your juices and his cum, and he has that dark smile on his lips again. "open your mouth."

#dom!taehyun #taehyun smut #dom!txt #txt smut #taehyun x reader #txt x reader #sub!reader #taehyun #smut #userkeiho

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emilio-the-dumb-wrestler · 5 months

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The benefits of being a twin are great. Especially when you are identical. Thats what Daniel and Cody found out. When they moved into their own apartment over the old antique store the owner took notice of how they looked alike and gave them a statue as a gift. It was statue with two head of identical faces on each side but the two found out that they could swap bodies when they both touched it at the same time ! So naturally they chose to live out then extremes of both of their fantasies. One fantasy being a fat cigar smoking bear. The other being a roided up gym addict. The only question was. Who would be who. There was an arguemrnt that ensued but then it came down to a draw. A random draw from a deck of cards. Then it was decided. Daniel would become a dad cigar smoking bear. And Cody would become a roided up gym junkie. Daniel slumped his head and Cody slapped him on the back. “Bro cheer up. We are sharing bodies remember! We get the best of both worlds!”

And this started the swapping. Both would swap for 3 days at a time. During that time Daniel would work out like crazy. Take steroids. Workout some more. And Cody would smoke like a freight train to develop the need for nicotine and eat like crazy. In the first swap Cody was so juiced he thought was going to lose his mind and kept pacing the apartment. Doing push ups. Going to the gym and working out. While Daniel would be so jittery he would have smoke none stop. His body had been conditioned to eating all the time now and he couldn’t stop! It wasn’t long before the two brother began to look very different and not like twins. Every time the swap happened they would sink the body further and further into the fantasy they were wanting to live. Soon Cody’s body began to look so vascular and hair was sprouting in odd places it never came in before. But the muscle was so tight. So packed. Neither minded that the roids were causing the body to lose hair. While Daniel’s body continues to fatten up. Cody started up the laser treatments and continued them to make Daniel completely bald. Graduating the bearing body for cigarettes to cigars. Both were living up their fantasy dreams.

That was until one night. It was a few hours before the swap was supposed to end and Daniel was doing is sit ups and pushups to really pump up the body. Daniel was helping him count and smoking to a stone and drinking his 7th beer when Daniel said “you ever think about staying in the body you’re in?” Cody laughed and said “no I like living both life’s. I like being the muscular stud and I like being this fat cigar smoking bear. Why?” Daniel stopped doing his sit ups. Snd sat up and looked at his brother. “Cody. It was fun at first. But we have to stop living a fantasy and settle on one life eventually.” Cody stared daggers at his brother. “Why are you saying this? We have it made!” Daniel got really quiet and stood up and when he did so did Cody and he staggered from the beers. Daniel laughed “I’m not swapping back. This..” he gestured toward the roided vessel “is where I’m staying”. Cody shouted at him and told him he could keep him from swapping. Daniel laughed at him. Over the past few months, they had effectively changed each others bodies. And in doing all that damage to Daniel’s they had also somehow made him shorter. Daniel picked the statue up and held it over his brotherly head. “Can’t force me out of this body unless we both touch it bro!” And with that he slammed the statue on the ground. A wisp a grey smoke erupted from the statue. And then they were both sealed in each others bodies.

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itsbeeble · 7 months

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Forever and Always

Summary: Kim Mingyu promised to love you forever and always. Why does it feel like that is no longer true?

Genre: angst, lovers to ???

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x gn!reader

WC: 1.5k

Series Masterlist

WARNINGS UNDER CUT

Warnings: hurt no comfort, Mingyu is just cruel in this, idk man they're arguing (mostly mingyu though), this relationship is lowkey toxic actually, reader flinches a lot but not bc she's scared of mingyu

Listen to Forever and Always by Taylor Swift for full effect

A/N: hahaha....haha.....ha.... ANYWAY THANK YOU FAWN FOR BETA READING THIS ILY POOKIE

You’re just finishing dinner when Mingyu walks in the door. Your back is turned at first, already prepping his plate, so you don’t see the exhaustion and the frustration weighing on his large frame when he first walks in. You don’t see the tick in his jaw when he lays his eyes on you, see the annoyance when you finish plating his dinner.

“I thought you’d be home later,” you turn around to face Mingyu, a warm smile on your face when you approach the table next to him. The food you’ve made smells delicious, but Mingyu ignores that. “I’m glad you’re here now, though.

Forever and always, right?

“Can I just...” Mingyu exhales heavily. “I’d like to settle in before we eat, please.” You look at him, still smiling.

“Of course! I’ll wait for you-”

“Don’t wait for me.” His voice comes out harsher than he wants it to and you flinch a bit. “I just...just eat.”

“But I thought... I just thought we could eat together tonight.” Your voice isn’t quite disappointed, but it’s enough for the last of Mingyu’s patience to fly out the door.

Forever and always.

You don’t know how long the argument has been going on. You don’t know how long Mingyu’s been yelling, how long you’ve been trying to voice your defense. Your face is burning from the humiliation of the whole situation, and your body shaking but not with anger.

"I already told you that I just want to be left alone,” Mingyu speaks through gritted teeth, standing across the room from you. You can hear the rain pounding outside, and you do your best to use it to calm your mind. You’re backed into the corner of the kitchen, eyes wide and teary although your face is dry. You don’t know if you’re shocked, or if you just can’t bring yourself to cry around the man you’d been in love with for the past six years.

Six years.

You’d been together for six years and never have you seen your lover, the man you’d promised to love forever and always, this angry.

“Mingyu, I just want you to eat something,” your voice is trembling and quiet, and you don’t think he hears you.

“All you do,” he takes a step closer, grabbing the edge of the counter and keeping himself there. He doesn’t move any closer to you than he already is. “Is fucking nag me. All you do is whine about how long your day was, how long it took to cook dinner, to buy groceries. You never fucking stop to really look at me, do you? You never fucking stop to think about how tired I am at the end of the day, and how maybe I just want to be left alone for once. Do you ever stop to think about how fucking annoying you are?”

Forever and always

Forever

Always

Please stop

Your hands are shaking, sweating, and you lower your gaze to the floor. You can’t even tell if Mingyu is talking to you anymore. Can’t tell if he’s just yelling at this point, venting, waiting for you to break.

“All I want is just five fucking minutes of peace, but you can’t even give me that, can you? God, you’re fucking useless.”

Oh.

Mingyu doesn’t snap out of it until he hears the front door slam. He doesn’t snap out of it until he sees that you’re gone, your apartment keys still hanging next to the door. It’s oddly quiet now, and he takes a second to breathe. Takes a second to gather his thoughts, and then the full weight of what he just did hits him like a freight train.

Useless

Annoying

Nag

His phone sits in front of him, and he stares at it. The screen is black, and when he turns it on there are no notifications. He has half a mind to call you, to tell you to come back and that he’s sorry. That he doesn’t know why he yelled at you like that, and it isn’t your fault. He wants to call you, to tell you he loves you forever and always.

The phone remains on the counter, eventually powering off while Mingyu walks to your shared bedroom to lie down.

Forever and always, he supposed, didn’t always mean forever and always.

The rain is relentless, pounding against your skin, soaking you to the bone. Your hair clings to your face, to the back of your neck, and to your shirt. It’s almost ironic how similar it is to the night you met Kim Mingyu.

It had been a Tuesday, you think, during your senior year of college. You’d forgotten your umbrella and were standing just outside the door of the university library. It was cold and wet, and your body was shaking just as it is now. Mingyu had approached you, and at first, you’d tried to ignore the way he stood next to you. He’d been hesitant, unsure of what to say.

Do you wanna share my umbrella?

You’d laughed at that. Of course you laughed.

How are we both gonna fit under there?

He’d flashed you a crooked smile, holding his arm out to link with yours.

A risk we’ll have to take if we wanna catch the last bus. You’d smiled back at him.

Promise you won’t take off without me?

He had hesitated and you’d punched him. He had laughed. God you were so addicted to hearing that laugh.

I promise. Another smile, and the corners of his eyes lift. Forever and always. Your nose had scrunched at the statement.

Awfully bold of you to say to someone you just met.

I’m a bold person.

Tonight, however, there is no umbrella. There is no Mingyu with his awkward, clumsy steps. There is now laughing as the two of you run to the bus stop. No introductions, no joyous exchanges of phone numbers.

Phone.

You’d forgotten your phone. Patting the pockets of your pants, you huff. Keys too. Did Mingyu know? Was he waiting for you? Did he care?

You were sitting on a bench at the bus stop. Rain pelts the glass surrounding you, and you let your body curl in on itself. It’s a miracle you haven’t cried. Maybe your body is too cold- too numb to cry.

What happened to forever and always?

You keep your head down when you knock on the door of your apartment. You’re soaked to the bone, your body still shaking from the argument and the cold of the rain. You wish you’d remembered to grab your keys, but you weren’t exactly worried about coming back when you’d left your home.

The lock clicks, and your body jolts. The inside of your apartment is warm, you can feel the heat even from the doorway. You can see Mingyu in front of you, but you keep your gaze on the ground. You can’t bear to look at your lover, not when the mental wounds the argument left on you are still open and bleeding.

Mingyu sighs, and steps to the side so you can enter your apartment. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. It’s agonizing, the walk through the kitchen where he’d been screaming at you just a few hours ago. It’s agonizing walking into your bedroom, knowing he’s trailing behind you and refusing to say anything.

“I put your dinner in the fridge.” Mingyu is sitting on your bed, watching you but making no moves to help you. He doesn’t ask where you were or if you’re alright and the longer he stays quiet, the more you begin to hate him.

Something soft and warm touches your shoulders, and you can’t help but curl into it. A blanket, colored with different shades of red. A blanket you’d made years ago and given to Mingyu as a gift. Your hand goes tight around its edge, drawing it tighter around your body. Mingyu’s hand lingers on your back, hesitant as if he wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sleeping in the spare room.” You announce, and Mingyu’s hand drops from your back.

“You’re not even- we're not even going to talk about this?” You turn your head, your soaked body still shaking from the cold. Or maybe from the fight. Maybe both.

“What’s there to talk about?” You press, the lack of emotion in your voice startling your lover. “You’ve clearly made up your mind about us. About me.”

Mingyu gnaws on his lip, and you stand there patiently.

“You know I didn’t mean that, Y/N.”

“Do I?” Your head tilts. “I thought I...I thought that you cared about me, Gyu.”

It’s his turn to flinch.

“I do. I swear I do.” You don’t respond this time. Your back is turned to him again, and you hear a shuddering breath escape him. “Y/N, please look at me.”

You don’t.

Mingyu touches your shoulder.

You step away.

His hand drops.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, Mingyu.”

“Promise?”

The door to the guest room shuts, and the apartment is quiet once more. A crack of thunder, a sob muffled behind a hand.

I’m sorry

TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @leejihoonownsmyheart

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niki-phoria · 10 months

Note

a prom runaway w m!reader and yeonjun after m/n got humiliated, because the school jocks ruined his suit, then yeonjun noticed, tried to fight but m/n grabbed him outside, they both go to a nearest park and yeonjun comforted m/n 🥹

pairing: yeonjun x male!reader (no pronouns used; implied masc reader) genre: hurt comfort to fluff word count: 1.2k

includes: high school (prom) au, not super romantic but they do have feelings for each other, reader cries, reader is implied to be shorter than yeonjun, starts utc bc of cws

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i changed the idea slightly but i hope you still like it :))

warnings: unspecified slurs, bullying, violence, cursing, mentions of fighting, implied homophobia

PART O1 / PART 02

you bite your lip in an attempt to starve off any incoming tears as your back harshly hits the brick wall of the cafeteria. you cower away from the boy looming above you as his friends continue to taunt you. a variety of slurs and insults leave their lips as you flinch away from their laughter and harsh kicks against your legs.

“hey!” a familiar voice calls. “what the fuck are you doing?”

a soft gasp escapes your lips as yeonjun forces himself in front of you, separating you from the group of bullies. he glares harshly at them. his hands are balled into fists - knuckles burning white at the white hot rage coursing through him.

you scramble to your feet, wincing at the pain in your muscles. “yeonjun,” you whisper, hesitantly reaching out to gently grab his wrist. you bite your lip; your eyes anxiously scan between him and the group still staring down at you menacingly. “let’s go. it’s not worth it.”

yeonjun spits a few insults at the group, turning to glare at the other boys over his shoulder before he follows after you. your hand slips out of his once you leave the cafeteria. tears of humiliation sting at your eyes as you stumble through the decorated hallways until you finally escape the school into the cool night air.

the door slams shut behind yeonjun as he rushes after you into the night. “y/n,” he softly calls, slowly approaching you from behind.

you furiously wipe away the tears that threaten to roll down your cheeks, catching the muscle of your cheek between your teeth in an attempt to stop the oncoming tears from flowing. you wrap your arms around your torso. a shiver wracks down your spine at the cool breeze blowing past you.

“thank you,” you finally murmur, turning back to face yeonjun. the setting sun casts a golden glow across his face. your voice shakes with every word, though you both ignore it. “you didn’t have to stand up for me back there. i appreciate it.”

yeonjun steps closer to you. his eyebrows furrow into a concerned glance. your own gaze falls to the ground as another tear slips down your cheek. “are you going to be okay?”

“i’ll be fine,” you sniffle. your shaky hands fumble with your phone as you desperately search through the various apps to find a driver to pick you up. “i’ll just call a cab or something.”

“do you want me to stay?”

you freeze completely at yeonjun’s words. the blood coursing through your veins goes ice cold. you look up at him with wide, teary eyes. your breath hitches in your throat when he hesitantly reaches up to wipe away yet another tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. his thumb is gentle as it brushes against your skin just underneath your eye.

it’s comforting despite being unfamiliar. during your years of friendship you had grown accustomed to his lingering touches. your skin burning whenever his hands brushed against yours become second nature though it’s never felt so intimate before. so safe. so loving.

yeonjun’s hands are warm against your face. he caresses you carefully - as if you’re made of glass. something deserving of being handled with care.

you find yourself leaning into his touch. months of repressed feelings hit you all at once like a freight train. your heart beats erratically in your chest at the sudden new onslaught of thoughts running through your mind.

you sniffle once again. your eyes flutter closed. yeonjun’s hand remains cupping your cheek before he carefully coaxes you into a hug. you all but collapse against him, finally letting yourself fall apart for the first time that night. you bury your head against his chest as tears roll down your face. choked sobs occasionally escape your lips.

“it’s okay,” yeonjun whispers. his hand falls from your face to wrap around your waist, keeping your body pressed against his. he rubs a comforting hand against your back, tucking his chin over your head. “i’m here. it’s all gonna be okay. i’ve got you.”

you cling to yeonjun’s now-ruined suit when you finally calm down enough to pull away. you wipe away the dried tears on your face as you step back, suddenly embarrassed at your breakdown. “thank you,” you whisper once again.

yeonjun simply shakes his head, leaning in to press a sweet kiss against your forehead. “feeling better?” you nod. goosebumps arise against your skin as another strong gust of wind blows past. you instinctively wrap your arms around yourself once again, shivering at the cold.

yeonjun furrows his eyebrows slightly before he silently slips his blazer off. your questions fall on deaf ears as he wraps the thin fabric around you so it rests gingerly around your shoulders. you softly smile at him, tugging it further around yourself.

you move to sit down on the steps, staring out at the setting sun behind the horizon as you patiently await for the driver you had called to arrive. yeonjun’s knee knocks against yours as he moves to sit beside you. his arm rests gingerly around your waist’ your head lays against his shoulder.

a comfortable silence falls over you. you can just barely hear the blaring music echoing from inside of the high school cafeteria. the upbeat tempo is paired with the noise of occasional cheers and the sound of dress shoes and heels sliding against the freshly waxed ground.

“i love spending time with you,” yeonjun finally whispers. you shift to look up at him - a silent cue for him to continue. “you make me feel safe. i know you’re probably blaming yourself about what those guys said earlier but i want you to know… none of it matters. you’re perfect, no matter what they tell you. what anyone tells you.” he pauses, reaching over to intertwine your fingers together. “i’ll always protect you. no matter what.”

you smile up at him, squeezing your hands together. “you make me feel safe too.” your ride rolls to a stop in front of the school’s steps. you both stand up, slipping yeonjun’s blazer off of your shoulders before handing it back to him. “thank you for staying with me,” you say. you bashfully stare at your own feet before you muster up the courage to look up at him once again. “you made tonight better than i ever thought it could be.” you reach over, taking yeonjun’s hands into your own before gently squeezing them. you step closer before leaning in to press a sweet kiss against his cheek. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

yeonjun’s face flushes a deep red as a smile spreads across his face. he watches as you walk over to open the car door, momentarily pausing to wave goodnight before you slide into the backseat. he waits for you to drive away before he shyly brushes his hand against the patch of skin your lips had touched. he chuckles to himself at how flustered such a small action from you has made him.

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mamawasatesttube · 10 months

Note

timkon w “here, let me carry you” xoxo

Reality comes rushing back in an overwhelming roar. Tim opens his eyes with a harsh gasp, hand flying to his side for a bo staff that isn't there; he tries to spring to his feet, adrenaline thrumming through his veins with the burn of sheer panic, and bites back a swear as his knees buckle and the world swims around him.

He has to get out of here, he has to warn Kon—

Strong hands catch his shoulders; dark hair and luminous cyan eyes swim into view. "Whoa! Hey, hey, relax, it's me!"

What?

Tim squeezes his eyes shut, willing the fog and vertigo out of his mind; he feels all... all... soggy, and disoriented, and wet, and exhausted, and... and awful, the panic roiling in his gut still churning to the point of nausea. He doesn't understand. The last thing he knew, he was in that warehouse, surrounded, realizing he'd fallen for a trap and they were going to use him to get to Kon, and...

"Kon?" he finally rasps, and immediately winces. His voice is raw, and his throat hurts like a bitch. Ugh, what even happened?

"Yeah, sunshine." Kon's arm wraps around his shoulders, his other hand tenderly cradling Tim's cheek. Tim blearily opens his eyes as the panic drains away; it's impossible to be so desperate and terrified when he knows Kon is here. "I got you. Easy, honey, just breathe. I got you."

"The aliens," Tim forces out, despite the pain, because Kon needs to know. "They want to get to Superman through you, they—I'm bait, you're not safe—"

"Shhhh." Kon's brows are furrowed, his jaw tight with worry; the edges of his lips tug downwards. Tim doesn't like seeing him so upset. "Don't worry. I know. I know. We took care of it. Everything's gonna be okay. They had you in stasis for a couple days."

Days. He vanished at that warehouse days ago? His poor Kon has to have been out of his mind with worry. Tim aches for him just at the thought, just for an instant, before the rest of Kon's words catch up to him and relief slams into him like a freight train.

They took care of it. Kon—Superman and everyone else too, but mostly Kon—isn't in danger. It's all okay..

It's okay.

"Oh," Tim breathes, dizzy from sheer relief; he's not even standing, but he sways again, slumping forward against Kon's chest. Kon smells of sunlight, his favorite aftershave, and a bit of ozone; Tim can feel his heart beating.

Kon's here. He's safe.

"Yeah. There you go." Kon's lips brush his forehead and linger, soft and warm against Tim's clammy skin. "Everything's okay, sunshine. You're safe now."

All the pain and exhaustion hits him tenfold as he starts to relax in Kon's arms; being held in a stasis pod clearly did very little for the injuries inflicted by the trap in the warehouse, and his whole body screams in protest. His head is killing him, and his eyelids are heavy, and his limbs are leaden.

"Here," Kon murmurs, his voice a bit distant even as he gathers Tim into his arms. Tim's head lolls against his shoulder. "Lemme carry you. Wanna go home?"

Tim can't quite muster up the energy to nod against him, but hopefully Kon gets the idea. He's really, really tired. And he's safe now, because Kon is here.

"...Tim? Tim—oh, shit."

Kon is here. So it's okay for him to close his eyes again, to sink down into the depths of his exhaustion. To give in and rest.

There's wind against his face now, he registers vaguely, and sunlight. That's nice. And Kon's arms, firm around him. "Okay," Kon murmurs. "You just—you just rest, baby. I'll get you taken care of. Promise."

As the darkness fully takes him, Tim almost laughs. That didn't need to be a promise; obviously Kon's gonna take care of him. That's the entire reason he's letting himself pass out to begin with.

Kon's here. He's safe.

He lets himself drift.

#timkon #tim #kon #rimi writes #this one is in fact pretty much just a scene from ''tim gets cloned and nobody has a good time'' au #but it stands alone as timkon :>

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thefallennightmare · 1 year

Text

Moment of Weakness-twenty two

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Author's Note: I'm so, so, so, sorry 😩

Tags(closed): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @unaxv @alana4610 @broadwaybabe18 @themayzittcha @playboystark @raajali3 @ozwriterchick @ragamuffin285 @screamingdying @themorningsunshine @kenziekugler22 @calwitch @sebastianstansqueen @stanaddict @stucky-simp03 @sleyeveryday @loustan90 @lyra-black13 @valsworldofcreativity @cjand10 @tesseract69 @batprincess1013 @subwaysurf45 @arsonfrogger @yoruse @5moremin @lipstickandtanqueray @mandijo17 @joannaromanoff @justsebstan @winters1917 @elizacusi-blog @football1921 @elxvrr

The car door slammed behind me as I fumed with anger, the steam cascading over the windows. I tried to steady my breathing, deep breath in then deep breath out. I did this a few times until I felt all of my anger dissipate through my body. Being alone with Bucky had brought up so many past feelings that I knew if I didn’t force myself to leave, it would have ended with us naked on his couch.

Not wanting to drive quite yet, I spent the last few minutes browsing my phone when a post from Natasha on instagram popped up. My breath caught in my throat, the ultrasound staring back into my face.

Twelve weeks today!

I read the caption a few more times, something not quite sitting right in my gut about this whole thing. There was confusion on the dates; she told me almost two months ago that she was six weeks so shouldn’t she be at the very least 14 weeks? Also, the fact that I swore I saw her at Big Mike’s bar earlier today but couldn’t prove it, the lighting being too dark.

Curiosity got the best of me and I took a screenshot of the picture, deciding to look it up online. I wanted to be completely sure with my assumption before making an ass out of myself in front of Bucky.

“I fucking knew it!” I exclaimed, my voice echoing throughout my small car.

The picture that Natasha posted had immediately shown up on google, at least thirty pictures, with the same position of the fetus and everything. The only difference, she must have photoshopped her info on the sonogram. A women's clinic in town had it posted on their website which must have been where Natasha found it.

She was faking the pregnancy. But why?

Unless she found out about the divorce and thought it would be the only way to keep Bucky?

Or.

“Oh, fuck!” I cursed, the realization slamming into me like a freight train.

Natasha knew about Bucky and I.

I saw Bucky’s car was still in the parking lot so I bolted from my car back inside of the office, his name falling from my lips.

He quickly came out of his office, eyes filled with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“She knows.”

Bucky raised a brow. “What?”

I sighed while tossing my things back onto my desk. “Natasha knows about us.”

His pupils went wide for a moment. “How do you know?”

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek because I wasn’t entirely sure on how to bring this up without making him upset.

“I can’t,” I shook my head. “I can’t tell you exactly how I know but trust me, Natasha knows about the affair.”

Bucky ran a hand over his jaw and let out an annoyed breath. “You want me to trust you?”

My head shook feverishly but did nothing to assure him.

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N,” Bucky turned his back to me and went back into his office.

I scoffed loudly. “Excuse me?”

He sat on his couch while I came to a halt in front of him, hands on my hips.

“How well do you trust Natasha?”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “She’s my wife.”

“Seriously? This is why I can’t tell you!” I exasperated.

He stretched his arms over the back of the couch. “You have this thought that Natasha knows about us but won’t tell me what makes you think that.

I shifted on my feet. “Can you promise to listen to everything I have to say?”

When he nodded, I took a deep breath in an effort to gain the courage I had been seeking.

“I think she’s faking her pregnancy.”

Bucky leaned his elbows on his knees, jaw clenching with anger. “What?”

“Okay, so.” I began to pace around the office, unable to look him straight in the eyes; his piercing blue eyes. “Nothing about it makes sense. When you first told me about the pregnancy, you said she was a few months along but when I saw her a few days later, she said she’s only a few weeks along.”

“Today, she posted a picture of her sonogram and said she was three months today but that doesn’t make sense, she should be almost five months.”

I stopped in my tracks momentarily to look at Bucky, who simply watched me with a raised brow.

“Then I swear I saw her at Big Mike’s bar drinking. Or, well it looked like it was her. It was too dark inside so I’m not one hundred percent sure.”

Bucky slowly raised to his feet while placing his hands on his hips. “Are you done?”

I nodded while taking a breath, needing more oxygen after rambling for the last couple minutes.

“You’re only saying this because you’re upset that I decided to stay with Natasha.” Bucky said.

I sneered with my top lip curled. “Did you forget that I was the one that decided to end things?”

His brow raised at me. “So why are you even here, Y/N? To tell me lies in hopes I divorce Natasha so you can get what you want?”

My eyes stung with his words, welling with tears. “That’s not why I brought this up. I thought you should know that she’s lying to you and it's because she knows about us. She’s trying to do whatever she can to keep you.”

“The only proof you have is a gut feeling,” Bucky pinched his eyes shut with a sigh. “I can’t bring this up to her without it.”

“Can’t you trust my word? I wouldn’t lie about something like this, Bucky.” I pleaded.

He looked at his feet with his head hung low. “She doesn’t know about us. We were always so careful.”

My fingers itched to reach for him, forcing him to look into my eyes to see that I was telling the truth. Our personal feelings aside, Bucky didn’t deserve to be lied to. I only wished I had some sort of proof.

“Bucky,” I breathed while grabbing his hand to give it a squeeze.

He finally looked up and my breath hitched when he stepped closer towards me, his body heat engulfing around us in our own personal bubble.

“You don’t deserve this,” I told him.

“Doll,” Bucky’s voice cracked.

The magnetic pull between us had returned and With a quick low scoop of lips, he pressed them against mine and I froze for a second before melting into him, my hands quickly finding his hair. Bucky’s vibranium hand grasped my cheek to deepen the kiss; his tongue wrapped around my own.

“No!” I pushed him away. “Why did you do that?!”

Bucky reached for me but I responded by smacking him, hard, across his face. His eyes darted down to the ground while licking his lips, teeth digging into his bottom one.

“Stop it!”

The tears fell from my eyes as I ran a shaking hand through my hair. “I shouldn’t have come back inside.”

“I’m sorry, doll. I know it’s wrong but it feels so right being with you.”

I pushed his chest hard which made him stumble back onto his couch. “I don’t care! You can’t continue to have your wife and me on the side. I know she’s faking the pregnancy but that doesn't mean she continues to deserve this.”

“For once in your life, Bucky. You don’t get whatever you want,” I cried while wiping the tears away.

“If you bring me proof that she’s lying, I’ll go through with the divorce,” Bucky said.

I stared at him, dumbfounded, and slowly shook my head. “I shouldn’t have to do that. If you loved me like I love you, you would trust what I’m saying.”

Bucky blinked, my confession not going over his head like I wished it would. “Wh-what?”

“I love you, Bucky even though I tried not to fall for you because I knew what it only meant in the end.”

I motioned between us. “You said it yourself; you can’t love people easily.”

“I’ll try-.”

“Don’t you get it?!” I screamed, interrupting him. “I can’t keep doing this! I did my best to be strong around you, tried to go back to normal but the second I’m alone with you I throw everything out the window. All I want to do is kiss you, love you, but I can’t because you won’t leave her!”

There were fresh tears streaming down my face as I choked out a sob. This was something I feared to do, not wanting to leave everyone I met here behind. But I knew, deep in my gut, that mentally I couldn't stay any longer.

“I quit.” I managed to get out through the sobs.

Bucky was fast on his feet. “You don’t have to leave, Y/N.”

“I do,” I cried. “Because if I stay, it’s only going to bring me more pain and my heart can’t handle any more.”

“Please,” he begged while reaching for me.

I stepped away from him and with tears trailing into my mouth, bitter tears stinging my tongue, I gave him the best smile I could.

“All I ask is that you don’t call me, begging to come back, when you find out she was lying to you. You could have been happy with me, Bucky. I could have loved you till my last breath.”

Without looking back to see his own tears falling, I let the cries flow through me in waves finally saying goodbye to someone I should have a long time ago.

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan #moment of weakness-mob!bucky barnes

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

Text

Silver, Idia: Believe in the Me that Believes in You

I’m not a huge fan of Silver, but his Broomquet Groovy is one of my favorites ^^ I really love the color of the sky and how the birdies have come to fly with him!

Silver talks about training with Lilia in this interview; I kept thinking of Mulan's training montage during it. He also mentions that Lilia pat his head for the first time in a while and told him he's grown into a fine young man so of course I had to make jokes about how "it'll be the final time" and "Lilia's finally booting Silver out of the house now that he's 18 so papa can fuck off to retirement"—

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

"How do you spend your days off?"

Idia looked up from his clipboard. H-Huh?! Do I really have to ask this?! I-Isn't it obvious what Silver-shi's answer will be? Obviously, an air-headed macho man like him's going to say...

“When possible, I work on my equestrian skills and horse handling technique. Otherwise, I train.”

“O-Oh… right…” Idia failed to curb his lack of enthusiasm.

See?! I totally predicted that!! He’s got zero brain cells upstairs, all the brain cells were beaten out of existence by his muscles! Now all that's left is a space-case!

Silver took one look at Idia’s bug-eyed stare, and a realization (the wrong realization) set in. “Are you curious about my regimen? I’m sorry, I will elaborate.

"As one of the young master's knights, it is my responsibility to protect him. This requires maintaining peak physical performance. To begin with, my regular warm-up involves stretching, then 100 sit ups, 100 push-ups, 100 squats, and a 10 kilometer run."

"B-B-BWEH?!" Idia practically choked on his own saliva. "D-Did you really just say all of THAT for a warm-up?! And you do that willingly? For FUN?!“

"Yes, that's right. It's very light and helps to wake my body up. After that is when the 'real' training begins. I do cardio and focus on different parts of the body depending on the day of the week."

"Wh-When do you find the time to take breaks?! J-Just listening to you describe your daily exercise is making my muscles cry..."

"Ah, you're wondering how I'm able to keep up with my routine."

Huh?! It's like this guy just button mashed his way past NPC dialogue and only got the gist of what I just said!! I didn't think it was possible to meet someone that runs on autopilot IRL!!

"From a young age, my father instilled in me the importance of staying active and fit." Silver smiled fondly at the thought, ignorant to Idia's woes. “He set up obstacles courses and would give me chores that built up my strength. I’d also play tag with the animals when I wasn’t chopping wood or fetching pails of water for us.

“Sometimes Sebek would join me. We’d have a lot of fun together braving spiked pits, climbing cliffs, and surviving in the wild with only the clothes on our backs. We came out of it stronger in body, mind, and heart—they were very valuable experiences for us.”

Serenity never parted from Silver’s face the entire time he described his hellish childhood. Meanwhile, his interviewer had progressively grown paler and paler. Now he was the exact hue of a fresh corpse.

“Hmm? You don’t look too good, Idia-senpai,” Silver noted. Worry suddenly marred his gentle beauty.

He jumped. “N-Nope! I-I'm fine, my health is at max!!"

A lie—the entire interview had been mentally draining for the introvert.

"Are you sure?" Silver stepped closer, his expression turning deadly serious. “If you’re feeling unwell…”

Idia gulped. He wasn’t certain if he was overheating from the scorching May day or if it was his nerves getting the better of him.

“… You should work out with me and Sebek. I’m sure he won’t mind the extra company.”

A freight train slammed into Idia’s gut. He staggered back, mouth hanging open at the audacity of Silver’s suggestion, the one million and one things wrong with it.

"A-Are you crazy or what?! Th-There's no way I'd survive!! The only exercise I do is waving light sticks around for idol concerts, I can't handle anything more than that! P-Plus, a shut-in otaku like me can't deal with being shouted at just for existing, I’ll instantly fold!!"

“I understand, Idia-senpai.”

For a moment, his hopes welled. “A-Alright, GG. We’re done with the interview then. You can get going on the birthday road now…”

But much to Idia’s horror, the birthday boy continued.

“I also told myself, ‘I can’t do this’ and, ‘I want to give up’ when I first started my fitness journey—but throughout all my doubts, my father was there to support me, and Sebek was my friend and rival, motivating me to improve.

“At NRC too… I’ve met people who support me. I can ride a horse as well as I can because Riddle instructed me. I won an arm wrestling contest because my classmates cheered me on. There are many things I was able to do only because others were there for me in my time of need.”

“Where… are you going with this shounen anime protag speech?” Idia asked warily.

“It’s hard to do it alone, but you’re not alone at all, senpai. I will be there to cheer you on, and we can work together to help you accomplish wellness goals.” Silver stated matter-of-factly. “I believe in you, so please believe in yourself!”

“E-Eh…? Seriously, what’s with you… Is everything I’m saying going in one ear and out the other?”

H-How can one person be a literal beacon of light and goodness in the world?! Is Silver-shi really the kind of person who tries to empathize with even the characters fandoms unanimously hate? Would he walk up to a broom and try to shake its hand?

A firm pat on the shoulder snapped Idia out of his spiraling thoughts. He found Silver staring him down, an encouraging smile on his lips.

"I need to head off on the birthday road now, but I want you to know that you're always welcome to my workout sessions, and I'll always be in your corner."

"W-Wait," Idia stammered meekly, "I never agreed to take you up on your offer... P-Please tell me you won’t show up unannounced in my dorm to drag me outside…!!”

WHOOSH!

The Ignihyde dorm leader was silenced by a powerful kickback of magic to the face. The fire of his hair flew around him—and when the flames cleared out of his sight, he saw that Silver was already a dot in the distance.

Petals danced upon the breeze, as white as the clouds stretched across the brilliantly cerulean sky. Night Raven College was drenched in golden sunlight, and spring come out in full force. The day was as picturesque as an image straight out of a storybook.

Thrilled song filled the sky as a procession of birds joined him in flight. Pink, green, blue—a flurry of colored feathers as they hurried to Silver’s side.

One planted a light peck on his cheek, another nibbled on the ribbon trailing from his bouquet. The third paved his way, trumpeting the arrival of a prince, pure of heart, with his beloved animal companions.

It was as though Mother Nature's messengers had come out to wish Silver a happy birthday.

Idia was almost mesmerized by the sight.

Almost.

“Silver-shi really does belong in a whole new world… far, far away from me!!”

#twst #Silver #Idia Shroud #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #Silver birthday takeover #something no one asked for #spoilers #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #I made various anime references in this one www #Silver really is too good for NRC

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pareidoliaonthemove · 6 months

Text

The Question

“Did you even think of us?”

Jeff Tracy had though his heart couldn’t hurt any more than it had for the past however-many-days he had been sat beside this hospital bed.

He had been wrong.

Virgil lay weakly in the bed, his flushed and sweaty face seemed to radiate heat, his limp hair plastered in sweaty strings to his forehead. Fever bright, glazed eyes focused on his father, seeming to recognise the man in the chair beside him for the first time in days.

That recognition should be reason to celebrate.

The question was not.

“Every day, Virgil. I thought of you boys every day –”

“Did you think of us at all?”

Virgil was obviously not hearing his reply, and as Jeff looked again, Virgil’s gaze was directed towards him, but not focused as he had originally thought.

“Why didn’t you take a second to work through the consequences? Because there were so many consequences …” Virgil’s voice faded out as Jeff stared, baffled.

“Consequences?” he asked, not expecting an answer. Virgil remained silent, eyes closed.

They were obviously coming at this from different angles, but for the life of him, Jeff couldn’t fathom what Virgil was asking. He’d spent eight years stuck alone on that rock, with no real hope of rescue, longing for the family half a solar system away. What consequence …?

“One was there. Could have bailed out and remote flew her to intercept.”

Realisation slammed into Jeff like a freight train, dropping his stomach to the level of the basement, while the bitter stale coffee he’d managed to swallow surged up his throat, burning and choking him. The roaring of blood in his ears seemed impossible as his heart convulsed, seeming so squeeze into the smallest possible space in his chest, radiating physical pain in every direction.

The train would have hurt less.

And, perfectly timed to rub salt into his wounds, Virgil opened his eyes. “Did you even think of us? Or was this just an opportunity to be the great hero again?”

“I …” Jeff’s voice failed him, as the door opened and his mother slipped into the room.

“How’s …?” Apparently it was the day for sentences trailing off into nothingness, Jeff thought bitterly. Although, his mother didn’t remain silent for long. There was the sound of fabric rustling, and then she spoke again, “Scott, Virgil’s awake, but not coherent. I need you to come and sit with him, while I deal with your father.”

There was a muffled noise that could only be Scott’s acknowledgement of the instruction, and then footsteps as his mother approached the bed.

“Whatever he’s said, he doesn’t mean it.”

“Oh, he meant it,” the words tasted like bile on his tongue. “He just wouldn’t normally say it.”

There was a soft knock on the door, before it opened, and Scott slid in, still breathing heavily from his flat-out sprint to get here, before firmly closing the door behind him.

“What’s the situation?” Scott asked softly, eyeing both his brother and father.

Jeff smiled wryly. “Virgil’s lost his mind to mouth filter.” The smile dropped. “He … blames me.”

Sally wrapped a comforting arm around her son’s shoulder. “I sincerely doubt it, whatever you think this is about.” She dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Virgil’s very sick with the fever. You know how fever can cause people to hallucinate, say things they don’t mean.”

Scott stepped up. “We’ve been here before, Dad,” he said softly. “Virg …” he sighed. “Fevers really do a number on Virgil. He spouts all sorts of nonsense.”

Virgil stirred again. “Could have prevented so much …” he faded back into sleep. And the very-much-not retired Dr Sally Tracy examined the readings from the bed’s built-in med-scanner.

“He’s condition’s improving, this is just a phase to be ridden out. He’s still disorientated from the hallucinations, and reacting to whatever it is he ‘saw’.”

Jeff wasn’t placated, but he allowed his mother to pull him to his feet, and lead him out the door, Scott taking his place by the bed.

Jeff glanced over his shoulder as the door slid shut, Virgil’s eyes were open again, and his mouth was moving. Jeff didn’t have the heart to make the effort to lip read his son’s words.

Notes:

It’s often said that the real victims of a suicide are the people who are left behind. I know that Jeff’s big damn hero moment wasn’t strictly suicide, but it wasn’t a textbook example of self-preservation, either. So I’m all in for the idea that the boys' grief process was complicated by the same kind of questions that follow on from a suicide.

And that complicated grieving process was always going to complicate ‘the return’.

I don’t subscribe generally to the ‘Jeff is a bad dad’ idea (except in a couple of particularly well executed instances), but nobody is perfect, and sometimes there are no good choices.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

#fanfic #my fanfic #thunderbirds are go #virgil tracy #jeff tracy #scott tracy #grandma tracy #fever #delirium #grief

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lady-manfredi · 10 months

Text

"Barney!" you exclaimed in excitement as you slammed your body against his, arms automatically wrapping around his thick neck. He was battered and bruised but you were happy to have him back in one piece.

"Hey baby", he basically whispered right into your ear. You could hear the fatigue in his voice as well as the sigh that came after it. Like he was holding on just enough to come back home.

"I've got something for you" he continues and it piques your interest right away. He looks down at his hands and starts "you know, this mission had me thinking. I believe this is far overdue."

You're all ears, waiting to see what he's on about. You stare down at his hands, hoping to catch a clue.

"It's been a while, and you know I'm not a man of many words." he trails on. "I love you.. and I always will. I just hope you feel the same." He pauses and when he opens his large fingers, in the palm of his hand is a gold ring.

You're speechless. Your breath caught in your throat as the surprise hits you like a freight train and your head starts spinning. You brace against his broad chest to keep your feet from giving in under your weight and when you meet his whiskey colored eyes, you see nothing but love and adoration.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He notices your shock and chuckles. "I told you before I left that when I come back I'll marry you."

You laugh at that. You thought it was just a thing he said. Never thought he truly meant it.

"Barney!" you exclaim once more, this time crushing your lips hard against his in a bruising kiss, giving him the answer you couldn't word yet. You feel his arms tighten around you and you swear you could cry from happiness.

From afar you hear whistles and hollering from the boys as they celebrate this moment finally happening. Unable to contain it, you break the kiss and burst into laughter at the childish behavior.

#barney ross #barney ross imagine #sylvester stallone #the expendables imagine #the expendables

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loreleismusings99 · 4 months

Text

Two Body Problem

Ch 4

[Masterlist]

Qualifying exams are stressful. coming to terms with budding romantic feelings is somehow even more stressful. In which Mark and the reader critique each others' work and a surprising amount of sleep happens.

Thank you for reading! sorry this took so long to get out, I just graduated(can't believe I have a bachelor's degree now omg), and my life has been kind of a whirlwind lately, but I'm glad I was able to get this out. I don't think this is my strongest chapter, but I can move on to other parts of the story now this is done. As always, please let me know of ways I can improve this and if there's anything that should be fixed about this. Tysm, and I hope y'all are having a wonderful holiday season! Happy Perihelion Day!

also, y'all, I am running out of Matt Damon gifs to use for these so if you have any suggestions, please send them to me!

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

God, my back hurts…

You shift under your blanket and grumble at the uncomfortably stiff structure that's currently cradling you. Cracking open an eye, you look around at your surroundings, becoming increasingly familiar as the clouds of sleep part and slowly return your senses to you. Why am I in the living room? Cracking open the other eye, you’re nearly blinded by the morning’s sunlight. Letting out a raspy “ugh…” at the unpleasant stimulus, you turn your head into your blanket again to shield your eyes from the offending ball of ionized hydrogen.

A new piece of sensory information halts your thoughts almost completely when you bury your face in your blanket though; notes of honey with an afterthought of what might be soil flood your senses, layered with something bergamot-y and a mystery spice that gives warmth to the smell. The smell reminds you of your night in the library, labs full of undergrads extracting caffeine from tea leaves, and office hours in the too-cramped grad office in the biosciences building. You remember a hand brushing yours as you both reach for the same homework packet, then mousy blond hair, striking green eyes, and a smattering of freckles.

The realization that your blanket smells like Mark hits you like a freight train and you're suddenly ripped from the clutches of sleep as he fills your senses. You try to find it within you, but you can’t quite locate the discomfort you thought you’d experience being confronted with Mark’s presence--however fleeting and ephemeral-- first thing in the morning. The feelings it stirs within you are… pleasant?? Being enveloped by the earthy scent is calming for whatever reason; like being held, wrapped in a profound sense of home and safety that you rarely have felt in your adult life. He must wear lavender… you think, trying to explain away the state you're in before drifting off again, sleeping in for the first time in a long while.

☆☆☆

“I'm sorry, you did what?!” Mark whirls around, his sandwich still clutched in his left hand while his right is holding his laptop in a precariously loose grip.

Colin rolls his eyes before responding to Mark's dramatic outburst. “Oh please, don't act so scandalized; that's a completely normal and average thing to ask--”

The door slamming at almost midnight tonight was certainly not on Colin’s bingo sheet for the evening’s events, but it was a harbinger of more unexpected happenings starting with Mark’s sour mood after returning from what should have been an enjoyable get-together with his colleagues in the bioengineering department.

“Sure, yes, normally, but they’re about the least average individual I’ve met up until this point in my life, Colin; you can’t just--” Colin has had a front-row seat to Mark’s gradual descent into denial for almost 6 months at this point. As Mark starts waxing poetic about how inviting you over to do moc quals presentations together would be the single worst decision Colin’s made, he remembers the night he came back from that mixer the two of you met in late spring earlier this year.

“The fucking audacity, how did they get this far being so unprofessional--” Mark tosses his bag onto their shared couch a mere foot away from where Colin was sitting writing up a first draft of the introduction for his thesis proposal on improving science communication with the general public while avoiding misleading sensationalism. Mark storms off into his room before poking his head out the door to say, “Did you know using a switch case to find the number of elements in an array is apparently--” Mark mimes air quotes “‘so clunky that it should be considered a syntax error’? Fucking hell…”

As Mark ducks back into his room grumbling, Colin responds with,“ Mark, I promise you I had no clue… and good evening, why do you look and sound like someone just told you agriculture and botany are the same thing?” Colin waits for Mark’s response as he stomps out of his room, having exchanged his business casual garb for his pajamas, and sulks into their kitchen.

“Oh, no reason. I just had the displeasure of getting publically ridiculed by a EE who wouldn’t know the difference between a spanner and a set of calipers, their head’s so fucking deep in electronics they don’t know how to communicate with other humans.” after grabbing a bottle of lemonade from the fridge, Mark collapses down on the chair to Colin’s left, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.

He has it bad… Colin remembers thinking, as he does now, as he watches Mark run up his blood pressure, postulating about critiques you haven’t even had the chance to make on his quals paper and presentation yet. “Mark… Mark, listen.” Colin says to interrupt his wayward roommate’s self-sabotage. “It’s not that serious. They’re going to come over to get their paper looked at too--actually, they’re presenting the same day as you. They’re coming here with the same level of vulnerability as you. I don’t think they’ll go easy on you, but I don’t think they'd be cruel either.”

Colin waits a couple of seconds before asking,“... what’s their name?” Mark pauses and looks up at the ceiling with a faraway look in his eye before saying your name, calmly for the first time since he’s returned home for the evening. Colin and Mark sit in this pause before Mark continues, describing how you were a vision of confidence and poise in your sweater vest, oxfords, and slacks--likely due to unfounded pride, he added after snapping out of his momentary revere. It took everything in Colin’s power not to laugh in Mark’s face every time he tried to explain away every positive thing he noted about you, from your ‘surprising competence in biomechanical design to your managing to land a graduate assistantship in one of the best-funded bio-instrumentation labs in the department.

“How would you know? Hell, they were probably thrilled by the idea of getting to take me down a peg and ruin my faith in my thesis in the process--”

“Well, they certainly seemed eager, but likely not for the reason you think…” Colin responds absent-mindedly as he returns to prepping his presentation materials for their moc quals presentations.

Mark pauses in his nervous pacing and looks finally directly at Colin before asking, “What… exactly did they say? When you asked?”

“My, you’re awfully interested in the minutia of their reactions to you. I wonder why…” Colin postulates slyly, looking up from his computer and smirking.

It takes a few seconds of gear-turning in Mark's head before he finally picks up on what Colin is insinuating before the man in question lets out a guffaw and states, “Absolutely not. No. Impossible, inconceivable--”

“Explain yourself then; you've been emotionally constipated since the day you met them,” Colin crosses his arms before continuing, “You aren't very good at hiding the inner machinations of your head you know, it's written all over in how you act.”

“What I feel for them is probably the farthest thing from affection, they make me sick to my stomach--”

“You sure those aren't just butterflies?--”

“Can you please just answer my question?” Mark sighs in exasperation, and Colin lets out a chuckle before explaining how the events transpired.

“So, I found them in the lab--I think they were soldering something? Honestly, it's beyond what I was willing to ask about so I don't know, but I asked them how they were doing and if they're interested in doing moc quals with us--”

“How do you know where their lab is?”

“I majored in journalism, Mark--I have my methods, don't worry about it. Anyway, they perked up at the mention of moc quals and said that they're about to give their presentation on Friday and that they'd love to have extra practice presenting to people who would ask similar questions to what their committee would ask them. They even mentioned that, quote,‘ despite your likely lack of appreciation for their work, your opinions would be useful,’ end-quote.” Colin utters the last sentence with a chuckle.

Mark opens his mouth to say to retort before he's interrupted by a gentle knock at the door.

Mark looks up at the door and then frantically around the apartment, looking at the mess of dishes he had left from his dinner yesterday before uttering a soft “shit!”, tossing his computer onto the couch next to Colin, and holding his sandwich in his mouth as he picks up his dishes and runs them into the kitchen. “You didn’t say they’d be here now!!” Mark yells from behind the divider wall that separates the kitchen from the living/dining room area, hiding dirty dishes in a panicked frenzy as Colin gets up to let you in.

“You didn’t let me get that far before you started questioning me--Hi there, welcome in!” Colin calls over his shoulder before greeting you and stepping to the side of the open door to let you into his and Mark’s shared space.

“Hey, thanks for inviting… me…” You look around like this is the first time you've seen a room before saying“Wow, you two have a nice place” with what looks like a sparkle of awe in your eyes.

“Thanks,” Mark finally decides to pipe up after exiting the kitchen and leaning against the wall. “Sorry for the mess though, I didn't know we were going to have company.” Mark forces through a fake smile as he looks over to Colin with thinly veiled, panicked irritation.

“Ah, so the clutter and dirty dishes aren't a half-baked preparation strategy?” You jest, dawning a coy smirk before turning to Colin and asking, “Shoes on or off?”

Colin's barely able to get in an ‘either is fine’ before Mark rebuts with, “You wound me with how much you underestimate my very complex plan to distract you.” Colin almost sprains an ocular muscle rolling his eyes at Mark's attempt to play it cool after nearly having an aneurysm about you coming over as the man in question ducks back behind the false wall before saying, “I'm making Pizza Bagel Bites for us.” There's a short pause before Mark pokes his head around the wall to regard you again before asking, “Do you like Bagel Bites?”

“Yeah, Bagel Bites are fine.”

“Are you sure? I can make something else if you want; we also have hot pockets, an actual frozen pizza, and we might have some leftover soup from Thanksgiving too--”

You rest a hand on your hip and sit into it before asking, with a huff, “Mark, honestly l, anything is fine; are we going to do this or are you afraid my presentation's going to be better than yours?”

At this point, Colin has sat back down on their couch and is having the time of his life watching what's unfolding before him. He looks over to the kitchen where Mark is still hidden and listens as he hears a clamoring commotion of a pan being filled with frozen Bagel Bites and the furious beeps of the oven turning on to pre-heat before he rushes out of the kitchen, picks up his laptop, sits down, and opens it.

Mark dawns a haughty smirk and a competitive gleam sparks in his eyes as he says, typing away on his computer, “Oh, you have no idea the magnitude of scrutiny you've just unleashed upon your work…”

You let out a huff of a laugh before saying, “I expect nothing less” and opening up your laptop and sharing with the two of them your paper and presentation as the lot of you get started on your moc reviews.

The process is fairly simple: one of you presents while the other two act as your panel committee, asking questions, and making suggestions at the end of your presentation. Colin goes first, presenting his findings from his literature review of surveys and short-term studies of the efficacy of popular science news and the need for more long-term studies. This is something he's practiced hundreds of times, so the questions you throw at him aren't surprising--though, he is quite taken aback by how well-versed you are in pedagogical techniques in science communication and makes a note to pick your brain about your experience later.

You go next, Mark having half-offered half-volunteered you to go next, he's probably still trying to calm his nerves, Colin thinks as he watches Mark shift awkwardly in his seat while you stand from your spot on the couch next to him after setting up your presentation on your computer. Colin tries his best to focus on the lovely presentation on flexible electronics and their use in vitals monitoring, but he can’t help but be distracted by Mark's increasingly adorable investment in your presentation, actively listening and asking questions but with a faraway look in his eyes as he gazes at you with what can only be described as adoration as you passionately expound upon the process of medication release in implantable medical sensing devices. You finish your presentation and Mark enthusiastically jumps up to present last, evidently forgetting his nerves from earlier and diving straight into the complexities of irrigation and sustainable crop cultivation in extreme environments. Colin takes note of the understated excitement you exhibit at Mark's passion for his field, so reserved that he almost missed the way you attempted to block a blush and giggle at his peculiar use of casual, nearly comical lexicon in a presentation meant to convince the academics at the top of the botany ivory tower to give him a chance at becoming a professional scientist.

After presenting you all went over the notes you made on each other's presentations, discussing why certain word choice decisions were made, how each of you dealt with being confronted with A gap in your knowledge, et cetera. Mark was chewing on the end of a red pen while looking over the notes and suggestions you provided for his presentation before making a face and asking, “What’s wrong with my wording here? I think this is a perfectly valid term to describe nutrient uptake efficiency in--”

“Mark, do I need to tell you why you can’t say ‘slorp’ in a Ph.D. qualification oral exam?” You look up from your paper, now marked up with notes from Mark and Colin, and look pointedly at Mark, your mouth quirked into a poorly concealed smirk. Mark starts falling over his words trying to explain his reasoning--or lack thereof--while failing at holding back enthusiastic laughter.

Mark turns to Colin and asks, “Well, what do you think--do you see the academic value of using slorp in a presentation?”

Colin rests a hand gently on Mark’s shoulder before responding. “Mark, my dearest friend, I absolutely do not,” Colin says through bouts of laughter and it puts you in stitches next to Mark, laughing so hard that the only noise you can make is a high-pitched wheeze as you’re doubled over by your glee.

Mark dramatically clutches his shirt right over his heart and says, “Et tu, Brute??” before succumbing to his laughter.

☆☆☆

The empty chair to your right buzzes with the vibrations your restless leg sends through the floor as you await the panel's decision on whether or not you need to reconsider your place in the Ph.D. program. Every time you try to listen in on the conversation your advisor and mentors are having in the room behind you, Hana gently squeezes your hand to remind you to at least try not to obsess about your presentation. It's done now, the ball's in their court. All you can do now is wait and try not to send your blood pressure through the roof.

I think that went alright…you think, threading your fingers between Hana's in an attempt to ground yourself. I answered all of their questions correctly… I think. They didn't say so if I didn't; would they have done that? Fuck, what if they just decided to say nothing-

The door to Hana’s and your left opens suddenly to reveal your advisor, Dr. Ameer, poking his bald and bespectacled head out from behind the door before stepping out and standing to his full height, imposing from your current seated perspective.

He looks down at you for a moment before smiling proudly and holding out his hand. “Congratulations!” You take his hand and shake it feeling like the air got kicked out of your chest, only able to let out a breathless squeeze of a ‘thank you’ that your advisor lightly laughs at. “Excellent treatment of the current gap in the literature on the use of implantables for tissue regeneration for rehabilitative purposes in particular--it makes a great start to a thesis project.” He states, taking off his reading glasses.

You nod and say another “thank you,” stronger this time now that your tensed muscles have finally relaxed and Hana's got you wrapped up in a sideways hug. “I'll make sure to, uhm, send you my availability for the next week so we can discuss how I did and how I can improve. We should also start to discuss my thesis--where to start, what we're capable of doing, et cetera.”

“Absolutely. Don't forget to celebrate too, though. You work hard, you deserve the rest.” He says, sitting down in the chair to your right.

“Oh, don't worry about that,” Hana says, clapping you on the shoulder, “I'll make sure they have at least a little fun within the next 24 hours.”

“Thank you for your work keeping them sane.” Dr. Ameer says through a laugh.

“Is this an intervention?” you ask, looking back and forth at the two of them as they both guffaw at your bafflement.

“Alright,” Dr. Ameer starts, standing back up before saying, “Congratulations again, I'll see you on Monday.”

“Thank you, and see you then.” You respond, allowing yourself to finally smile with a gleam of pride in your eyes as he nods and walks off, presumably to his office.

You wait until you know he's out of earshot before bellowing out a, “Thank fucking God…” as Hana squeals, shaking your shoulders in pent-up excitement.

“Hey, don't act like you didn't nail it in there, I heard you, you were great!! Oozing confidence and academic splendor!” Hana responds, dramatically clutching a fist over her heart. “We have to celebrate properly tonight; maybe drinks and dinner at my place--”

“Please don't make it a big thing, it's not like I just defended my thesis,” you say through an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, but we're at least inviting over Colin and Mark--they just passed their quals too.”

An Incredulous and confused look twists your face when you ask, “How do you know? I thought they were presenting just now too?”

“Trivia night people have a group chat--here, look” Hana takes out her phone and shows you a text from Colin with a picture of him smiling with his arm around what looks like Mark, his head tilted back in relief while Colin ruffles his hair.

Your eyes linger on Mark's neck a little too long before you pull your gaze away and clear your throat, saying, “I see.”

“Hey,” Hana says, putting a hand on your shoulder, “we don't have to invite them, or anyone for that matter, especially if they'll make you uncomfortable.”

“No no, thank you, uhm, there's nothing wrong with that. If anything, I probably owe the two of them a thank you, we presented to each other and they both offered some awesome suggestions that I wouldn’t’ve thought of otherwise.”

Hana regards you silently for a moment, eyes narrowing before they widen in shock as she says, “No fucking way.”

“… What?”

“I mean, the two of you becoming civil with each other finally was to be expected, but I never would've thought--”

“Oh,” you say rolling your eyes as you go to stand up, “Okay, I see where this is going--”

“So I'm right then?” Hana grabs her bag and goes to follow you.

“Absolutely not.”

“You were just gazing longingly at Mark!”

“I do not gaze at him,” you wheeze out with a laugh as you push open the doors to the Tech building.

“Okay, so why did you just freeze right now? I refuse to believe it was a nondescript brain fart and you just so happened to zone out looking at Mark's trachea--” Hana finishes her sentence in a whisper to not attract the attention of the undergrads walking past them in the courtyard.

You whip around to look Hana in the eye as you whisper-yell, “What I feel for Mark is the farthest thing from attraction, I can't possibly think of a world where he would inspire anything other than disgust--”

“Denial is a river in Egypt, my friend, and we are in the midwest--”

“God, I can't believe you--” You whirl back around and start walking off in the direction of your apartment.

“I'm inviting them over, and be at mine by 5!!” Hana shouts at your retreating form and you throw up a thumbs up to show your acknowledgment.

Your mind wanders on your way back home; you remember eating a Pizza Bagel during your moc quals with Colin and Mark, the latter suddenly saying, “Wait! Hold still” causing you to freeze in your tracks and your eyes to widen into saucers, thinking a bug or something crawled onto you. He reaches over and gently swipes a thumb across the corner of your mouth before saying“ Rogue pizza sauce” before moving on to the next thing that caught his attention. You're still frozen in place, trying to process what just happened, when Mark absentmindedly licks the tomato sauce off his thumb like he forgot that that was just on your face and not his. Now, something like this usually wouldn’t surprise you--especially given Mark's tendency to forget the simplest of things--but for whatever reason your brain short-circuited; at a complete loss for words, for once in your life not a single thought crossed your mind--just complete radio silence and a faint fluttering feeling in your chest. You didn't notice it at the time, perhaps because you didn't want to, but that fluttering felt different than you expected. You wanted to feel a flush of anger wash over you at his invasion of your personal space but all you could muster was the nauseating fondness you felt that night he walked you home after trivia night.

This realization makes your face twist into a scowl. “Shit…” you say, burying your face deep into your coat.

When you enter Hana’s apartment building, the weight and warmth from your jacket and the building hallway make your skin prickle with sweat. You unzip your jacket and tug a little on your turtleneck’s collar before knocking on her door. A muffled “Hold on!” sounds from behind the door before Hana flings the door open a few seconds later. “Come on in!” she hurries you in while carrying a pan of what looks like an attempt at caramelizing… something?

You take off your shoes and place them on the small rack set up next to the front door before hanging up your coat next to Hana’s on a nearby coat hook. “What are you making?” you question, the medley of smells hitting your nose almost making your eyes water.

“Chicken parm--assuming I'm doing this right,” says over her shoulder while rushing back into her kitchenette, trying not to spill the contents of the very hot pot on her person.

“Hana, I'm not sure if you're supposed to caramelize anything in a chicken parmesan dish?” you follow her timidly into the kitchen, not entirely sure you want to bear witness to what she is concocting.

“You’ve gotta have more faith in my process,” Hana says confidently over her shoulder right before the pan on the stove in front of her bursts into flame. There's a brief scramble As the two of you try to put out the fire, eventually being left with a charred mess sitting in the pan with the two of you staring at it blankly.

“... Portillo's?”

“Yeah,” you respond with a light huff.

You're drying off and putting away dishes as Hana passes them to you after giving them a thorough scrubbing to get off the char from her attempt at cooking dinner. After about two minutes of this Hana puts down the dish she's working on and huffs before saying, “I'm putting on some music, any requests?”

You pause and think for a moment before answering, “Um… I don't know; What've you been listening to lately?”

“This is gonna sound kind of weird, but I've been on a bit of an ABBA kick lately.” She says, drying her hands off before retrieving her phone from the front pocket of her ‘That's not Burnt, that's Flavor’ apron.

“Knowing you, that's not weird at all.” You deadpan before the two of you let out a stream of giggles. Hana taps away at her phone for a couple of seconds, and Chiquitita starts playing from a speaker on the far side of the kitchen to your left. “Oo, that's a good one.”

“Darling, they're all good ones,” Hana says through a playful smirk, making you laugh. The rest of the otherwise boring task goes by much more slowly but more enjoyably with the two of you intermittently stopping to sing along at the top of your lungs with whatever song caught your collective attention, Hana occasionally using whatever cooking utensil was within her grasp as an impromptu fake-microphone. She's in the middle of a surprisingly impressive belt during Lay All Your Love on Me when a confident knocking echoes through the apartment. “Ope, is that them?” she inquires in a suddenly quieter voice with what you detect as a hint of bashfulness--possibly at the prospect of being heard through the door. She briefly checks her phone while you dry the last plate and put it away. “Yep!” she says before doffing her apron and nearly prancing to her front door.

You turn around and open up a cupboard to put away the plate you're holding, but as you reach up you feel a pair of eyes on your back. You close the cabinet door and whirl around only to be met with a pair of infuriatingly disarming green eyes. In your periphery, you can see Mark’s shoulders pitch up slightly before a toothy smile blooms across his face, catching you off guard with the sincerity of it. You clumsily return his smile before congratulating him before dawning a defensive smirk and saying, “I’m glad our corrections weren’t ignored” jokingly implying that was the only thing stopping him from failing.

A grimace distorts Mark’s smile before he opens his mouth to speak, pausing for a second before finally letting out a laugh and saying, “I was about to say that I had to because Botany isn’t exactly as easy as what you do, but saying something is only biomedical sensor engineering doesn’t exactly have the punch I ‘m looking for.” He and Colin take off their shoes and you and Mark close the distance between the two of you before he continues. “Glad to hear you passed too--what is that smell, is something burning?” Mark interrupts himself, halfway through crossing his arms when he finally catches a whiff of the residual char in the air from Hana’s cooking.

“That would be the aftermath of Hana’s attempt at cooking; don’t worry, we called Portillos as soon as the pan lit on fire.” You quickly add after seeing the color drain a bit from Mark’s cheeks.

You wonder if they’ve always been that rosy before he frantically looks between you and Hana and asks, “You lit a pan on fire?!”

“Only a little bit, we put it out quickly--the alarm didn’t even go off.” Hana dismisses Mark’s worry with a wave of her hand while walking over to her speaker to turn its volume down.

“That’s a shame, we could’ve roasted non-stick flavored marshmallows,” Colin jests from his spot at Hana’s kitchen island before she sticks her tongue out at him, sending the lot of you into a laughing fit. “Well, what do we want to do until the dogs get here?”

Hana pauses to think for a second before ducking to rifle through a set of board and card games she keeps under her living room speaker and reemerges with a small red box. “‘We’re Not Really Strangers’?” she punctuates her question by lightly shaking the box, “I’ve got a few packs mixed in here, so we shouldn’t get any repeats if we’re waiting a while.”

Colin responds in the affirmative before enthusiastically walking over to her couch and plopping down with a ‘whoomph.’ Mark shifts next to you before stating in an almost whisper, “This ought to be interesting.” The two of you look at each other and you scan his face, taking in the mirth evident in his lightly freckled face and you lightly nudge him with a wheeze of a laugh before walking over to get a seat at Hana’s coffee table.

How can one person be so fucking warm?? You internally hiss to yourself while sitting next to Mark. The two of you still have about an inch of separation between the two of you but even so, you feel like the warmth radiating off his body is smothering you in a calm you’re trying to steel yourself against. You’re sitting in a half-crisscross position with your leg resting on top of your foot now to make it harder for you to subconsciously inch closer to Mark to try to remedy the ever-present chill that usually plagues you--with what appears to be little success considering the two of you stared out on this couch with about 6 inches of space between the two of you. Mark guffaws heartily at Hana’s answer to the card Colin just pulled and you can feel the seat shake with his laughter, the proximity of his person to yours making your heart ache dully. This is miserable, I’m miserable, why is this happening, why me? Why him?? You wonder to yourself with a slightly pained smile and chuckle while Hana pulls a card from the pile in the center of the table.

“Let’s see--ough, I hate this one; ‘What are your plans for the future?’ survive this Ph.D.” Hana immediately answers with a wheeze of a laugh putting the card in the discard pile.

“Honestly, same--I’m just glad my quals are done so I can focus my time and energy on research,” Colin answers before taking a sip of his water and looking to Mark for his answer.

“Alright, are we talking about, like, the next five years or more of what my endgame is for what I want to do with my life? Because I wouldn’t be able to securely pin that down if my life depended on it.” Mark laughs after Hana tells him to say whatever he has an answer for. He pauses for a moment before continuing. “Well,” he begins, crossing his arms, looking up at the ceiling, and slightly adjusting his position, spreading his legs slightly; it takes every ounce of willpower in every atom of your body not to look down at his legs as he does so. “I’m planning on submitting to the NASA GSRP soon, so, assuming I get awarded it, I’ll be working more with botanists at Kennedy Space Center to develop cultivation experiments for the ARES missions--If they ever happen at all.” Mark finishes with a scoff, making you frown. With the tumultuous nature of how government is run, it's becoming increasingly difficult to gauge if there’ll be funding for ambitious space missions like the budding ARES program. Mark abruptly turns to you--itching to turn the attention away from himself--and asks, “What about you?”

You’re given pause by the way Mark abruptly changes the subject, but answer anyway. “Oh, um, I’m headed to Pasadena in the spring; I’m working with one of the engineers there on electronics for a Lunar water surveyor--seems like we’re both NASA-bound. You’ll have to tell me more about the project you’re submitting for, it seems interesting--we might even be able to collaborate a little bit, depending on how far my work on this surveyor goes.”

You end your answer with a coy smirk and for a flash of a second, you could've sworn you saw Mark’s eyes briefly cast downwards to your lips before rocketing back up to meet yours. No, that can’t be possible. God, I’m losing it-- you think to yourself before the man in question interrupts your internal agonizing. “Oh, so you think I’m good enough to get the fellowship?” He inquires with a jesting tone, ducking his head to look up at you through his eyelashes, his vermillion eyes scrutinizing you through the varying shades of blond and brown.

You look at him incredulously and answer before thinking better of voicing your knee-jerk reaction, “Of course; I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” The realization of what you said hits you like a ton of bricks flying at you at Mach 1 as you see Mark’s cheeks flush. Again with the rosy cheeks? Did I make him uncomfortable? Was that too much? Shit, does he think I like him now? Fuck--

“Ah, well, I’ve got nothing to worry about then--if even you think I could do it.” Mark laughs and claps a hand on your shoulder, making you let out a huff and a chuckle in relief at his jovial tone, thinking you’ve narrowly escaped being found out.

“Alright, enough work talk--” Colin captures your attention after letting out a light chuckle and motions for you to pick up a card. “Your turn, Inspector Gadget.”

You lightly chortle before reaching over to pick a card up from the top of the pile of unused cards. “‘Do you think I’m a good kisser?’ Hana, I thought you said these were from the friendship pack???” The whole table bursts into laughter while Hana chokes out a confirmation that it is indeed from the friendship pack. “Alright, out with it, what are your verdicts?” you ask through an exasperated sigh.

“Honestly, I think you’d be a great kisser, remember when we visited Vanessa’s mom in Vegas and you somehow tied two cherry stems with your tongue? While drunk no less--” Hana interrupts herself with her own laughter as you choke on the water you’re drinking at the mention of that night.

“Fuck, I forgot about that!” you cough out. “If it means anything, I had to use my teeth for most of that--I was afraid I was going to swallow the things both times,” you confess with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I don’t know how good of an indicator that is; one of my exes also could tie a cherry stem with his tongue, but the first time we kissed he practically shoved his tongue down my throat.” Colin weighed in with a scoff before continuing, “What do you think Mark?”

Mark pauses for a moment and in that calm, you notice that he’s draped his arm over the seat cushion behind you. In an unexpected wave of wreckless confidence--at least, that’s what you’d call it--you decide to lean back into his arm, immediately relishing in how warm he is. He considers you for a moment, a surprised look on his face before answering, “Honestly I feel like you could go either way; either you’re a mind-numbingly great, or criminally terrible, no in-between” Hana and Colin break into a side-splitting laugh and you ask him to please explain what his reasoning is behind that answer. “You… you--” Mark interrupts his sentence with a breathy laugh, looking up and away from you before continuing. “Alright, look, you… have a lot of surprising things about you and they’re all, like extremes--”

“Yeah???” you interject, your face contorted into an incredulous smirk.

“Yes, let me finish--”

“Please do--”

“So, I think it would be one of those things that you’re, like, inexplicably good at for no fucking reason, or you’d exceed my expectations and be worse than I thought you’d be.” He finishes, barely able to hold back his chortles.

“And what exactly were your expectations?” you ask, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at the revelation that he’s thought about kissing you before. You try your best to stamp out those thoughts before your infuriatingly lovesick brain can indulge in them, thinking God, I’m hopeless. Mark pauses for a second, looking at you apprehensively. You can feel his arm shift on the cushion behind you as he agonizes about whether or not to tell you. “...Mark--”

“That you’d be kind of mid--” he admits with a grimace.

“WOW!” you exclaim, laughing like you just got the air punched out of you. “The amount of confidence you have in me is truly inspiring--is there anything you think I do well?”

“Piss me off--” The four of you lose your minds with laughter; you go to grip your leg to brace yourself against but accidentally slap your hand against Mark’s. The muscles in his leg tense and you freeze. You feel like you should--no, have to--move your hand but for whatever reason the signals your brain is sending to your arm are getting lost in transit, leaving your hand planted steadfastly on top of his quadricep. A spark of surprise flashes through his eyes for a moment before he moves his hand to grasp at yours, still resting on his leg. “You do that perfectly--”

“Fuck off,” you draw your hand out of his grasp, laughing to yourself and unable to look him in the eye.

☆☆☆

After your Portillos arrive you all dig in, opting to put your card game away in favor of watching a Seinfeld rerun while you all eat. Mark tries to focus on his hot dog to get the memory of how your hand felt on his leg out of his mind. I suppose that’s my fault for not noticing how close we were getting. Did they want that? Why did I want that?? Fuck, I hope I didn’t make them uncomfortable-- Mark takes a deep breath after swallowing a mouthful of hot dog to try to calm his racing thoughts. He feels a pair of eyes on him while he zones out watching the TV and turns his gaze in your direction. You stare back at him with an indiscernible expression before asking, “You okay?”

He smiles and nods, trying not to let his inner turmoil show, “Yeah, I’m good--just starting to get a little tired.” At least that much was true; the fatigue of the past couple weeks of preparation for his quals had decided to dump itself on him now that the adrenaline of the whole ordeal had dissipated. You hum and nod before patting him on the back, an alarmingly comforting gesture that Mark didn’t expect to appreciate as much as he did. The four of you continued to watch Seinfeld until he could feel his eyelids begin to droop. Shit, he thought, I can’t be this tired right now, I still need to get home-- His train of thought is interrupted when he feels you slump against his shoulder gently. He looks down at your now asleep form and huffs out a silent laugh, finding you asleep for a second time that week. He looks up to Colin and Hana, who both seem to be engrossed in the exploits of George and Jerry, before he decides to rest his eyes for a second as well, thinking there wasn’t any harm in taking a moment to rest for once. Mark nods off before he can hear Hana and Colin snicker to themselves.

===

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lovebillyhargrove · 5 months

Text

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 18/?

***

Hands down.

Hands fucking down,

Billy Hargrove has never been so horny, in all of the years since puberty hit him. Like a train. It didn't hit him gently. Does it ever though?

Anyways.

On the verge of turning 18, frequent involuntary erections and wet dreams are making a surprise comeback to his everyday life. Like he needs them back, right the fuck now.

It's as if he's a 12-year old again, examining his pimply chin in front of the mirror. Waking up to a shameful wet spot in his underwear after having yet another arousing sex dream.

Billy's already had such dreams about Harrington, it's not like he's gonna

Oh my god!

freak out about the fact itself, but if he thought they happened often, haha. Look at him now, after he actually

physically

touched King Steve's smooth dick.

Billy's right palm remembers the feeling of its silky texture, remembers how the hot cum erupted over the fingers

He can still chase it.

The dreams vary in their depravity. Some are just a faint whisper, a brush of a hand, or of lips. Sometimes they are bolder, Billy's gripping Harrington's cock in his pants, over and over again, making the pretty boy writhe and gasp under his brazen touch. At times Billy gets lucky to watch especially explicit night fantasies, way better than any porn he's ever seen or imagined,

Turning him into a glob of sweet sweet honey, sticky and fuzzy and not wanting to get out of bed in the morning.

Harrington is living rent free in all of these dreams. No-one else. Not even a single gorgeous playboy babe makes a five-second appearance.

Motherfucker.

And alright, while spilling cum on your sheet is not a big deal, trying to hide your erect dick in public? That's a bit tricky.

Cause Billy is not a 12-year old with a small pecker anymore.

And don't even start Hargrove on goddamn basketball practices. It's been absolute torment for the last couple of weeks. Even though accidental - very often intentional - touches, pushes and collisions with Steve provide new food for Billy's horned up imagination, it's embarrassing and plain suspicious how many times he has to leave the gym for a sudden break. The fucking tiny shorts aren't helping him at all. They don't offer much of a disguise, fucking none.

Damn frigging shorts. At least when he's fully dressed, covering up his hard-on is not such a big problem.

One time Billy ended up poking the Hawkins Tigers' ex-captain with his upright cock, right there on the basketball court, in the middle of the game. Harrington didn't say a word, he just fucking looked at Billy funny and licked his lips

Why did he lick 'em

Hargrove had to run off to the locker room, smashing the doors on the way out with such force they almost flew off their hinges

Just like Billy.

He is off.

Other guys must've seen it, the tent in his shorts. Fucking stupid.

So puberty seems to be making a very unnecessary intrusion into his life, and Billy is taken hostage.

It’s as though he’s been slammed by a freight train again, only now he’s not just smeared all over the rails, but is being choo-chooed along, counting every railway tie with his hard insufferable dick

That pops up like a jack-in-the-box, at any time around the clock, and in most unfitting places and situations, whenever and wherever it fucking feels like it.

On Sunday morning Billy's washing the dishes after breakfast, with Susan fussing around in the kitchen, Max still sleepily sipping her cocoa at the table and Neil reading his morning newspaper, and

He is getting a mega-fucking-ass boner, doing goddamn dishes, in this good-morning-respectable-family-paradise, dick pushing into the edge of the sink, straining his sweatpants, it's fucking uncomfortable and awkward, and it's as if his stupid cock is completely out of control. Like it has a life of its own. Or, more like, a part of Billy's brain and his dick have this special connection, which Billy is totally left out of. It only takes a blink of memories from those heated five minutes in the backseat of Steve's car - Harrington's Adam's apple bobbing in front of Billy's eyes under that white-thin, insanely delicate skin and yeah .. it's enough for

Weigh anchor, hoist the sails!

Fuck this shit times a million.

Hargrove almost breaks the plate he's holding, in half.

Good thing, the sink is still full, the dick can calm itself down. Hopefully. Otherwise, Billy wil have to come up with a way to retreat to his room not dangling this thing around in front of everyone.

He'll have to fucking moonwalk backwards. Dear family is gonna be too perplexed to notice the protruding situation in his sweatpants, and it'll lead to the much needed distraction.

That's all it takes these last February days - a fleeting memory, and Hargrove's getting a raging hard-on.

Feels like a curse.

Also, it's not like he's in charge of his thoughts as well. They run free and wild, various images or recollections of smells or sounds - all connected with the preppy sweater-wearing piece of Indiana cowshit - spring to mind, and there goes Billy's tireless dick again. Up and defiant. Hurting but relentless.

No-one can tell it what to do. It does what it wants.

Billy can't fucking function like that !!

Hargrove keeps circling that sponge, and glancing sideways at the phone on the kitchen wall

He could uh .. just

FUCKING CALL HIM

Just like it says in the note.

"Harrington residence."

"Hey, shithead."

"Hargrove ..?"

"No, it's your mom, dumbass."

Harrington will chuckle in the receiver and say, light and breezy

"So .. whatcha doing?"

Thinking of you

"Nothing much."

Oh yeah? .. What exactly are you thinking about?

"My parents aren't home. Wanna drop by? We could .. drink a couple of beers maybe?"

Sounds good

Perfect

"Sure."

No. Billy, NO.

He is not going to call Harrington.

Why not, you might ask? Make it happen already, whatever it is. Steve has slipped his number in his pocket fucking twice.

Nope. He's not gonna call.

Cause it's weak.

And, if you still haven't figured it out, Billy Hargrove is anything

but weak. Secondly, he just doesn't want to give Harrington the satisfaction in this particular case.

Billy recalls the expression on Steve's face while he was coming down from the high of nutting into Hargrove's fist in the beamer.

Steve was royalty, having collected tribute from his liegeman.

Billy's not calling the arrogant prick, period. He's not gonna feed the asshole's pride.

He doesn't want to seem needy for the king's favour.

Because he's not.

And like .. Hargrove doesn't mind making his hands work. He can give himself a quickie in bed, or in the shower, or .. in the fucking locker room, where one day he burst into during another basketball game, hot and angry and achingly hard, his balls about to explode right there on the court, causing his sperm to splatter all over Harrington's pale hairy legs

So fucking annoying

Oh, Billy was furious then.

The helplessness. Like, what ?? What on earth should he do? Go see a doctor? Please help me manage my erections at almost fucking 18 ?? Cut off his stupid dumb penis that keeps embarrassing him?

He had to jack off right there in the empty locker room, it was bordering on impossible to go on with the day otherwise. It only took a couple of minutes, so.

Billy wants to see what's underneath those tight dark green shorts, and not just take a peek, like in the showers, no, he wants to see everything and take his time watching

Take them off, Harrington. Or better yet, let me .. slide them down, show me what you are packing

In broad daylight, he wants to look long and hard, take it all in, the size, the details, the colour .. compare it with the image he has created in his head after all those feverish night dreams

Why? Why is he so fixated on seeing Harrington's dick?

Stop asking stupid questions, alright?

Billy doesn't have answers to any of them. If someone could explain it to him, he'd gladly listen.

Fuck off, just leave him alone.

See, what's even worse, it's not only the physical aspect of feeling like he's in puberty again. Billy starts getting angry and even more aggressive than he usually is. He's always cursing, he's always banging something loud, barking or plain yelling mad at Max for no good reason, and he absolutely needs to find more powerful speakers to put in his car.

There's no adequate outlet for his pent-up frustration. The days when a push and a couple of harsh words seemed sufficient, are over. Shoving Harrington around has stopped providing the relief. It's simply not enough, and only razzes Billy even more.

People in school hallways are steering clear of him, especially after that episode when he violently bulldozed some junior through a wall for bumping into Hargrove on pure accident.

The guy has probably developed a stutter after.

Sometimes Billy turns into a complete nutcase and starts feeling disgustingly emotional, sad or even fucking depressed.

He's never been a ray of sunshine, neither has he ever looked at this world through rose-coloured glasses, this is true, but it's just that everything seems to be hellishly getting out of hand lately.

This feeling is new and unwelcome. The only thing that he always had a grip on in this world - himself - is spinning out of control.

It's revolting.

Billy can't stand hovering over a ridge like that. He needs sustainability, he has always found support in himself - because where else? All these years - since she left him - he's been his own rock. His friends and the ocean were there for him back in San Diego, but here, in this fucking Hawkins he has no one at all, and therefore all this confusingly loud hullabaloo in his head, the mood swings and the constantly erect dick in his pants - all these things can go fuck themselves

Deep in the ass.

Honestly.

Four months till the beginning of July.

Billy turns the water off, wipes the kitchen counter. The cock has cooled itself down a bit, and while he was getting lost in thoughts, the precious family seems to have left the kitchen. Billy doesn't have to moonwalk back to his room hiding his erection.

Well, at least a grain of good news amid the disaster.

***

It's a usual break between periods, and Billy's passing Steve in the hallway.

Heart is springing up to his throat, beating somewhere right in there, not letting him breathe evenly

Look at me, look at me, look at me

Steve doesn't.

Mood swings, yeah? Here you go. Billy's feeling disappointed and .. fucking saddened ?? Because of this crap?

Owie .. he didn't notice me, life's in shambles. Call fucking emergency services, maybe they'll know what to do.

Hargrove wants Harrington to always look at him.

To be fair, the pretty boy is busy having some lovers' quarrel with the red-haired girl, Nicole. She's still unhappy about Valentine's Day, she sure didn't expect to see drunk King Steve shamelessly flirt with other girls. Namely, with that ugly bitch Tammy Thompson, who's always eyeing him in classes and her boobs are always about to fall out of her blouse. Slut.

Steve's trying to laugh it off, Nicole's not laughing.

D-rama !!

"Hi, Billy."

A sweet kiss is planted on the corner of his lips, and Jennifer attaches herself to Hargrove's arm on the way to class. She is still acting like she's his girlfriend.

Why shouldn't she. She doesn't know.

Pecking his brain about useless things. Telling him how some junior hit on her after Billy had ditched the party on Valentine's. Jennifer's even telling him his name - Troy or something, she's trying so hard to make him jealous

Sweetheart. Save the effort. There's like .. nothing stirring inside.

It's lunch break now, and the only thing that's stirring, is Hargrove's dick in his jeans cause Harrington looks so good today. There he is, picking at his food, smiling at Tommy, laid-back. All easy-breezy, the confident fucking arrogant curve of lips. He looks good every day, the dickwad. Almost every day a new outfit, how many fucking sweaters and shirts and dumb polos does he own?

Billy's got a sudden itch to set all of Steve's clothes on fire.

Also, Harrington looked sexy today when he was writing something in the previous class they shared. Staring at the blackboard all pensive and shit. Like he actually understood what the teacher was talking about. Like he was interested. Yeah, right. He got a C- for his last test in Literature. His daddy's definitely gonna pay his way through college, no need to worry that pretty little head about stuff like that.

Billy hates him for looking so attractive. So worry-free. Self-entitled. Like life's at his service, and he's just taking it for what it is - for granted.

So when Jennifer is droning on about some shit Hargrove even remotely pays no attention to,

He's like god I'm so sick and tired of it all, jesus.

Nevertheless, Billy has to keep up lame appearances.

"That him?" He asks the girl who believes they're dating.

She has no idea what's going on inside his brain, who and what he sees when the nights come.

"Yeah, that's him. Oh, Billy, no, what are you ..?"

Hargrove leaves the table he's sitting at, comes up to the dude, pats his shoulder. Leaves his hand there, presses down a bit, leaning on the guy, arm as heavy as an iron beam, weighing a ton

Looming over him like a thundercloud

"Heard you've been hitting on that girl over there?"

The guy is fearfully shaking his head

Dude's a pussy. Should've told Billy

"Yeah if you're not fucking her on valentine's, someone should do you both a favour."

Should've started a scene, a fight.

Instead, he's just sitting there, hunching his shoulders and pulling in his neck like a small defenseless turtle.

Billy sees a teacher, monitoring the lunch hall, looking at them with a question in her eyes.

Alright.

"Keep your hands to yourself, buddy. You know. To avoid uhm .."

Billy makes a little pause for a bigger dramatic effect

".. injuries."

Smiles all friendly. Like he means the dude no harm whatsoever.

The what's-his-name looks relieved he did avoid the promised injuries this time, and

Jennifer is delighted. She is the queen of Hawkins High. She is the reason Billy Hargrove almost started a brawl with another boy right now, in front of every student. Looked so big, so hot, doing it. Vicky can stuff her prom dress down her throat. There she is, totally, devastatingly jealous, ready to burst into tears or throw hands at Jennifer once again. She is still not over Hargrove, but it's Jennifer who will be going to prom with him. She'll be prom Queen, proudly wear the crown, frame the picture and put it on the wall. Probably tell their kids how mommy and daddy danced at prom and looked fantastic doing it.

Oh girls girls girls, why is that you fall so easily for someone who doesn't give a fuck about you. What is your problem. Can't you like the good ones, the ones who are going to stick around. When are you going to understand that ninety-nine per cent of all times that piece of hot badass means inevitable heartbreak?

Billy thinks that he needs to take Jennifer out or something, to maintain the reputation, but

He's so over this shit.

Come March, he'll be breaking up with her.

He's catching that sweet junior Alison's stare and throws her a smile, just in case, for possible future purposes. Jennifer is too busy gloating to notice it.

Billy's not even sure what he's doing anymore. Like, there are chicks, that have stopped attracting him fucking collectively and individually, and there is Harrington, that's been stuck like a bone in Billy's throat since day one, but especially lately.

Billy wasn't planning on touching anyone's dick in fucking Hawkins, Indiana.

Most importantly, Billy still definitely doesn't need any kind of attachment.

Don't forget about that, Hargrove.

Soon it's gonna be the time to call it quits with the Hawkins girls, and with its idiot king. It'll be the time to get out of this swamp.

Only four months left.

You've already made it through six. It's gonna be okay.

Maybe it's more reasonable to leave this place the moment he gets the high school diploma, not wait till July. Billy will be 18 already. He can pack everything in advance, put it in the car, stop by the school to pick up the documents and then just drive west straight from there, not even going back to Cherry Lane.

Aren't you even gonna say goodbye to your father who raised you?

Sure, he wants to work his ass off in June, probably find another part-time job, save up as much as he can, but won't it be more sensible to just get the fuck out of here as soon as possible, nevermind the extra cash?

It's something to consider.

***

Okay, listen up, kids, Hargrove is not in charge of his

A) penis

B) thoughts

C) mood

All answers are correct (mind it, the option under D) feelings has been deleted from the original list)

But what irritates Billy most, makes him extra boiling mad is that the moment he gets some sort of a grip on the situation, and he's like alright, just need to fucking take it day by day, screw it all, especially everything that's Harrington-related, and he might still be reeling, but at least he understands what's happening and has it in check

At this very fucking moment Steve resurfaces and reminds Billy about himself, and it pulls the surf board from under his feet. He's back to zero again, having lost control once more

Just wanting to commit a fucking crime. Breaking and entering, burn the rich-ass dude's clothes, key his car, poison his current girlfriend

Hargrove would never key the beamer. He spent too much time making it look perfect.

Like right the fuck now, when Billy's just standing in the parking lot, thighs on his baby's hood, finishing his morning smoke in peace, minding his business, a minute till the first period, and

Bam!

He gets a snowball in the back.

The fuck!??

He turns around - there's just Harrington in the almost empty lot, grinning like a dumbass and a new girl by his side hiding a giggle - Sammy, Tammy ..?

Playing fucking games? What grade are you in? Planting notes, throwing frigging snowballs?

Okay shithead.

Billy looks as if he's not bothered, like he's ignoring the asshole, but his eyes are already looking for patches of snow, still lying around - it's the beginning of spring, February has no choice but to slowly start stepping away, taking all winter paraphernalia with it. He's planning revenge, but unfortunately, upon starting to walk towards the school, slips on the ice and lands on his ass.

Motherfucker!

During all three months of winter Hargrove managed to stay on his feet somehow, but at the fucking end of February he absolutely has to fall down, in front of Harrington, of course.

There's a very distinct Hahaaha that he hears behind his back

You goddamn son of a bitch

Billy quickly jumps to his feet, ducks down, and while Steve's still laughing with the girl, a massive snowball hits the king in the fucking ear. Good shot. He's not looking so playful anymore, he looks really hurt. Hargrove seldom misses, and he strikes hard.

You asked for it, Indiana.

Hargrove flips Steve off for good measure and keeps walking to school, honour defended, dignity restored.

Kinda.

Stop fucking fucking with me.

***

At the beginning of March seniors' yearbook pictures are being taken in Hawkins High. Well, they were already taken in the fall, was it October? .. but some kids were sick or absent, so it's the last call for those who haven't had it done. The yearbook layout is almost ready and in April or May it's supposed to be printed out.

Billy doesn't give a fuck. He skipped the first photo session and

How many dollars should he spend on the stupid book?

He's not getting himself one here, in the lamest school of all. He doesn't know half of these people, and he doesn't really care about anyone in particular, even the basketball team, Hawkins Losers, makes him only want to forget about its existence. Back in San Diego it wouldn't even be a question, but here?

What the fuck for?

Billy still goes to the photo shoot this time though. He wants to skip Spanish, and also

Because Harrington is there too, hanging around the entrance to the school drama hall, that's where it'll be held. King Steve actually had his picture taken the first time, in October, but

Oh, you need to hear this one -

The bitch didn't like it.

So he's actually asking for his photo to be retaken now. Jesus Christ. Since Byers aka Harrington's ex-girlfriend's current boyfriend, is responsible for today's event, the King

slash

Fastidious Queen

Is going to get another chance.

There are some other seniors in the hall as well, no-one's in a hurry, no-one's eager to get back to class early, so they take their time, girls brushing their hair in front of the mirror and applying lipstick, guys just fooling around. King Steve gets an extra couple of shots, just in case, to make him happy. The faces Harrington makes when he's being photographed are to die for, Billy wants to roll on the floor with laughter.

When the period and the photo thing finish, the kids are on their way out of the hall, and it just so happens that Harrington and Hargrove are the last ones to actually walk out of the door. The responsible Byers is in a hurry to take the school photo camera back to the photo lab. Steve's not feeling bad about breaking Jonathan's camera in September, monsters or no monsters, the dude still shouldn't have taken pictures of him and his friends, hiding and watching them from the woods. Steve apologized for saying some nasty stuff about his family in the heat of the fight, but that's as far as the apologies will go. It's a bit weird to have Byers take pictures of him, given their history, if he remembers it right, back in the fall the shoot was done by someone else but, honestly, it feels like so much stuff has happened after that, it's all water under the bridge.

The boys look at each other before leaving the hall, stalling. Steve's lips curl in a mischievous smile and Hargrove's eyes mirror it with the similar naughty twinkle

Steve takes Billy's hand.

And it's like everything around him disappears for a split second.

The warmth of it.

What the fuck, why the fuck

Helplessness.

Billy's blood knows the route, flowing fast.

With some brain cells still functioning. Hargrove peeks out of the hall, everyone is minding their own business, in a hurry to get to the bathroom, to a locker, to the next class. Byers is gone.

Hargrove closes the door. Steve's hasn't let go of his hand

Making the electricity run through his body.

Billy glances down at their hands, then up at Harrington's pretty face again, the dude is devouring him - Hargrove can't be imagining that, it's real - with his big beautiful fucking deer eyes, lips slightly parted

Inviting.

Luring.

They understand each other without a single spoken word

Billy almost knocks Steve down with a kiss, there's so much uncontrollable force

How many times have they kissed already? It feels like it’s so new, like they've never done it before.

Harrington is dragging Billy behind the stage, they climb up the small staircase there

Holding each other.

Billy's hands are clutching onto Steve's clothes, Harrington is gripping the other boy's back of the neck with one hand and tugging his jeans jacket with the other

They are behind the curtain. It smells funny here, of dust and paint, fear of public speaking, forgotten lines and improvisation.

Fear and improvisation - that can actually be applied to what the boys are doing right now.

Harrington's ass ends up being slammed against some kind of a table.

They are kissing, kissing, kissing, fuck, why does Billy want to kiss this idiot so much, he’s ready to suck his lips for a whole hour, play catch with their tongues

Running wild

And touch, touch, touch

Steve's shoulders, his arms, back, chest, belly ..

Everything, everything, all of his lean body, Billy's hands are not big enough

What would it feel like if they were naked now?

Harrington isn't so shy either, he is groping Billy everywhere, his hands go down to his ass, he fucking kneads his ass so much it hurts

Fuck.

Billy is so turned on, he wants to fucking weep because he can't cope

With the heat. With the lust. With the need.

He goes for Steve's fly, pops the button, opens it, his fingers fucking trembling

Like of a junkie.

He can actually .. he's been dying to see Harrington's dick like that, in day light

Oh god god god is it happening

He pulls the pants down together with the underwear, and Steve's cock springs up in all its splendor

Red, swollen, meaty

Big. The head is purplish and shiny, with a little pool of precum in its tip

It feels like a reflex already, Billy's hand moving to grab it.

But before, he slides his palm over the dark pubic hair

It's so coarse. Harrington's got a full fucking bush down there, and Billy wants to find himself lying in bed together with Steve, stroke his groin, teasingly, wrapping rings of wiry hair on his index finger.

Hargrove's hand on the lower belly makes the other boy moan and Billy mutters

"Shut up, Harrington. Or someone will hear us."

Steve looks like he doesn't care, but of course he does. They don't want to get caught. They can't.

Billy runs his fingers up the cock. Steve hisses

Hargrove doesn't want to appear too gentle, that's why he stops with the caressing and takes the dick in his palm, just like he's been dreaming of

Fucking velvet, fucking tender, skin like the softest down

And flesh stiff as a rock.

Billy's gone. He is so completely gone on the sensations.

Why has he never felt like that before? Like a live wire.

For a fraction of a second he considers ditching Steve, leaving him here with his dick out in the open because

Don't do it don't do it don't do it

Is at the back of his mind.

You can't handle this.

Of course he doesn't listen to reason. Not this time. Not when King Steve is whining so sweetly under his touch

"I told you to shut up, or you'll get us in trouble."

Steve's rasping out

"You shut up. Come on, make me cum."

Excuse me?

That rubs Billy the wrong way and he scoffs because

The royal fucking attitude.

He's not gonna put up with it.

"Make me cum too, asshole," - with a mean chuckle.

Harrington is looking at him in disbelief, like how dares he, but Billy is letting go of his erect dick and Steve says quickly

"Okay. Let's make each other cum."

Hargrove's waiting. The king doesn't seem to be catching on.

"Unzip."

There's a flash of something dark in the pretty boy's brown eyes like he isn't used to being told what to do.

"Fuck you."

Yet, he obeys.

Hargrove's dick falls heavily out of the black boxers and

Steve's hesitating. Looking.

Billy can wait again. He's not moving his hand up and down the other boy's cock, he's not gonna do it unless ..

Harrington takes him, cautiously, clumsily.

Tentatively.

Billy's gonna pass out right this second.

Fuck .. fuck, it looks so fucking hot, Steve's fingers wrapped around his dick.

Billy is trying to memorize every little detail of what's going on here, for later.

It drives Billy fucking wild. The sight of them holding each other by the dicks turns him savage

Like he wants to .. he wants to

Eat Harrington alive.

They start jerking each other off, copying each other's pace, gradually falling into the same rhythm, slower strokes becoming faster.

Eyes darting between faces and dicks, searching for some confirmation that what each one is doing here, is good, feels good.

Feels amazing.

Harrington's cock is cut clean and neat

Billy's uncut, and the feeling is so different. Steve doesn't have all the extra skin to be worked with, but Billy does, and

Hargrove doesn't understand why but it makes it even more exciting, the difference.

In all of the commotion Billy's right hand falls from Steve's back on the table and

It's touching an object

Billy absentmindedly pulls it from behind Steve ready to throw it on the floor so it doesn't get in the way

It's a crown. A fucking papier-mache fake crown made for a performance

Billy doesn't toss it on the floor, he's grinning at Harrington instead, trying to put it on his head

"A crown for your majesty."

It's getting knocked out of Hargrove's hand

"Jesus, you are so dumb."

"No, you're fucking dumb."

Both boys are snickering like complete idiots.

They go on pumping their hard cocks.

Harrington's slit is gushing precome.

A couple of times Billy breaks the rhythm and gives attention to the head of Steve's dick, using that slow twisting motion, spreading all the moisture with his thumb

It makes the pretty boy close his eyes and bite his lower lip

"Nuuugh .."

"Shuuuudup."

He looks so fucking hot.

And like .. Billy wants to say something, how much he likes it, how sexy Steve looks, but

They have to keep quiet not to get caught.

It's unlikely someone's gonna come to the hall now, and especially backstage, still, you never know.

Also, Hargrove is not gonna be the talkative bitch who can't contain his excitement

So Billy keeps everything that he wants to say to himself, only occasional gasps and suppressed moans escaping their lips. Something tells him, in other circumstances Harrington would be much much louder.

Billy can hear Harrington's breath hitching and he starts thrusting his hips erratically

He's close.

Billy is close too.

***

When they are finished, there's this moment again, when you're coming down from the high and you still have to look at each other and .. talk?

Like .. it's awkward as balls.

Speaking of. He has seen the imperial scepter, but he hasn't seen the crown jewels. He'd certainly like to take a peek. They might be fun to play with

Fffffuck

He just had an orgasm. Sex thoughts, fucking already ??

They both take their hands off of each other,

Steve's fingers linger on Billy's t-shirt, crumpling it

Wha ..

"The fuck you're doing?"

"Well, I can't wipe it on my sweater. It costs like .. a lot."

Fucking asshole!

"Your t-shirt's easier to wash."

They've got sperm all over their clothes.

What a despicable douche. Billy crowds Harrington against the table again and pointedly slides his hand, covered in cum, over the expensive fabric

"The fuck you did that for?"

"Just wiping off your mess, assface."

That's the pillow talk, that's it, that's how you do it in the town of Hawkins.

The assface in question is pouting

He slightly pushes Hargrove away, zips up and Billy does the same.

"I don't want to get to class."

Yeah, back to reality.

The pictures were taken during Foreign Language - the teachers have been notified, that certain students are going to be absent from class. Hargrove takes Spanish. Harrington takes French. Would be funny to actually see the jerk speak French

Bonjour, crétin

The boys yielding to the urge to touch each other's dicks led to their skipping more than half of History class. There's no point in going there now, so it'll be great if they manage to make it to their cars without running into a teacher.

"Let's try and get out of here."

When they carefully go out of the school hall and start moving towards the exit, already thinking they are in the clear

Too soon.

"Mr. Hargrove! Mr. Harrington! Why aren't you in class?"

Shit.

That's Mrs. Donovan, the vice principal.

"We uh .."

Apparently, cumming so hard has left Billy's brain empty and unable to produce any kind of a viable excuse

Harrington seems to have the same problem because he's coming up with the genius

"I uh .. I had to use the bathroom."

"And Mr. Hargrove was helping you?"

"Uh .. we're actually .. no. We got sidetracked."

What ??

Mrs. Donovan decides not to delve into the idiocy.

"I believe you should be in History right now."

"And we are on our way to class, Mrs. Donovan." Billy pipes up.

The vice principal is watching them walk to the classroom. To the door.

Jesus.

Their History teacher is not happy to see them crash her lesson in the middle of it.

Hagan is looking at them all strange. Damn it. They should probably agree on a sensible lie, not to get him all suspicious and shit.

When the period is finished, Mrs. Jenkins calls the slackers' names and expresses her dissatisfaction with their behaviour

The boys are standing there trying to look remorseful as fuck.

It doesn't help.

Mrs. Jenkins is a tough nut to crack. She's close to a hundred, so biologically immune to Hargrove's charm. And he can't woo her intellectually cause that's not the case right now.

Billy's not even trying anything, he knows it's hopeless. She's also super strange about students skipping her lessons, she takes it like a deep personal offence.

"I will accompany you to your detention, young men. Right now. And I will also be the one monitoring you today. Please. After you."

Detention .. ??

Fuck.

"Mrs. Jenkins, is that really necessary .."

"You do the crime, you do the punishment. Be thankful I am not going to call your parents to let them know about your lack of discipline."

"Can I at least let my .."

"No you cannot, Mr. Hargrove."

Old bitch.

Billy knows, he's not there to pick Max up equals problems with Neil. If only he could warn her to wait for him at school, hang out at her AV club or something.

The witch Jenkins said no, and he's not gonna beg.

***

I did google the percentage of circumcised/uncircumcised males in the states of Indiana and California in the 1970s-1980s. The rate of circumcised males in Indiana was very high, while California was literally at the bottom of the US states list

#harringrove #harringrove fic #s1steve x billy #harringrove slow burn #harringrove high school shenanigans

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keep-the-wolves-close · 8 months

Text

Steady Heart

Chapter 2: Deep Stays Down

Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton × OFC Stella Daniels

Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

Warnings: Grief, panic, language because I mean let's be honest we've all seen the show lol

Word count: 2,710

Gif credit goes to @bodybebangin (I totally can’t remember if there’s a way to transfer the gif to my post with your profile link on mobile.) Edit I figured it out and I’ll remember for the next time!

Authors Note: Thank you everyone for the interest in my first chapter! Here we are with chapter two! I hope you all like this one too! I had to split chapter 2 into two so technically there’s an extra chapter. So I think I’ll post this early 😂.

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot for being a sounding board for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, a cheerleader, and allowing me to screech at her about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn’t have gotten this far. 💛

Stella tossed the covers of the bunk back. She reached for her glasses and her phone. It was around 8:30 in the morning. She wasn’t too late, but later than she had planned. Late by ranch standards, for sure. Thankfully no one was in the bunkhouse at the time so she had free reign of the bathroom.

She came out fully dressed and ready for the day. She saw all the men out the kitchen window. ‘All of them, except one.’ She blinked rapidly and air rushed up from her lungs. It was like that thought had just sucker punched her right in the gut. The nausea came back, her fingertips and cheeks went numb. No one came for her. More so, Lee wasn’t barging in, telling her to “Get your ass up and let’s get a move on! You’re holdin’ me up, lil’ bit!” He let her get away with much more than he probably should have.

Leaning forward against the sink, she looked down and tried to catch her breath, open mouthed and salivating. She tried to convince herself to not vomit. ‘In through your nose, out through your mouth girl.’ A groan escaped her. Her eyes welled up and she sank to the floor against the sink cabinets.

Stella slammed her fist on the floor. “Fuck!” She screamed in anguish. Partly regretting hitting the floor so hard, but most of it aimed at the loss of a coworker. A friend. The thought of never seeing him again, never hearing him giving her a hard time about his brother, about how she did something with a particular horse? It hit her like a freight train. One thought after the other. There was an empty crater made by the absence of Lee. One which she didn’t even realize would be there.

She hiccupped and hyperventilated while the tears streamed down her round cheeks. Stella tried to remind herself not to pass out. She could hear Lee's voice, right after she had gotten bucked really hard for the first time. “Big breaths kid. Big breaths.” Her face contorted into sorrow. She gulped air for a minute. Slowly, but surely, her breathing came back to a better rhythm.

Standing carefully, she ran the cold water in the sink. Stella splashed her face and held the cold water around her eyes. She didn’t need to be super swollen and red going out there. Ryan would immediately sniff it out.

Fixing her hair into a bun, she closed the bunkhouse door behind her. Before she had her meltdown, she had seen from the window that John and Rip had brought out Kayce’s horse. She definitely wanted to go and watch; that horse was about to give everyone a run for their money. He listened great for Kayce though. There was something kindred between the two that she noticed yesterday. She didn’t think John would have the patience for him for long.

“Hey Rip, Mr. Dutton.” She smiled at them.

“Hey kid.”

She rolled her eyes at the foreman while laughing. “You do realize I’m 26 now and not 14?”

“Don’t do that to me, Stella-belle.” Rip pleaded playfully.

Stella jested. “What? Make you feel old?”

John grinned at Stella. “If it makes him feel old, then I feel ancient, little girl.”

“Well you do look pretty rusty with that horse, sir.” She joked because of the show the stallion put on while she walked up.

“Oh you think you can do better?” John challenged her.

“I mean, your oldest and youngest did teach me almost everything I know.”

“And who do you think they learned it from?”

“Lloyd.” Stella giggled and hopped up and over the fence. She wiped her hands on her pants. “Let me take a crack at him.”

She handed her glasses to John and said, “Don’t get your dusty fingerprints all up on my lenses, sir.” He chuckled and stepped back to the fence where Rip stood.

“You should invest in contacts, dear.” John joked. He didn’t leave the pen, just in case she needed someone to grab her out. He knew his son’s best friend could be a little reckless when it came to the horses. Lee had seen fit to mention that to him.

“My glasses treat me just fine, thank you.” She pivoted back to the mustang.

“Whoa Tank.” She said softly and outstretched her hand to him. He looked to her, but then at John behind her. He let out a short snort and stomped his front foot.

“Mr. Dutton, no offense, but get out of the pen please.” She could hear him as he shuffled his way out.

He leaned over to Rip and said quietly, “Excuse me, just getting kicked out of my own arena.” They shared a chuckle at her determination.

“I can hear y’all by the way.” She smirked over her shoulder at them. “I work with the rest of these horses nearly every day, so let me try to do my thing.”

Stella stepped forward carefully. “Is that better, bud?” He nickered gently at her, partially satisfied. She chuckled at him. “Just like Kayce,” she said softly.

She clucked twice. “Come here boy.” The stallion took his time as he decided whether or not she was going to betray his trust. Just like she would with Kayce, she let him come to her. Which, he finally broke and decided she was interesting enough.

In her outstretched hand, he placed his muzzle. She began to pet him on his velvety soft nose and forehead. Once she felt that he was comfortable and he wasn’t giving a negative reaction, she started to mess around with his saddle; giving him gentle shoulder pats every so often. She just wanted to be extra sure that if the stud tried to toss her, she would have as much control as possible.

She got close to his ear and said gently, “okay, Tank. You ready to show these boys what we’re made of?” The horse chuffed just a tiny bit, just loud enough that she could hear him. She patted his chest and placed her foot in the stirrup. Stella gauged his reaction and he made it seem like she could proceed. She scrunched her eyebrows in suspicion and gripped the horn, stepping up into the saddle. She didn’t want to pull on his back harder than she needed and piss him off even more.

She sat deep in her seat and took a deep breath. She kept the reins loose, they were split reins anyhow, and her legs soft on his sides. Her heels low to keep her center of gravity. Stella could feel the stallion’s mind brewing. She brought his head up because she didn’t want him to go between his knees.

“Well I’ll be damned,” John muttered.

“Why do you think Lee and I gave her the position to work beside him with the horses, sir?”

“It’s okay, boy. You’re doing gre— shit!” Stella grabbed the horn tight and pulled her legs close because Tank took off in a flying leap.

He bounced them both around for the longest 10 seconds of Stella’s life. He tried to flip them, but she loosened her legs and pulled his head sharp into the inside lead causing him to lose momentum. She could hear Lee screaming at her in her head to get him on the inside and get his head back from him. The stud took a step to the side to gain balance. Tank made his displeasure known as he hollered and tried to toss her more times than she could count.

Stella flexed his neck and made him move forward. She, at the very least, wanted to get him to listen to her. There was a lot of work she was going to have to put in with this one. ‘Of course Lee left me the difficult one.’ She kept pushing him forward in long strides around the arena and finally he ground to a halt with an agitated squeal. They were both breathing heavily, but she refused to let him catch her off guard again. She flexed the inside rein again.

“Come on Tank, work with me here.” He tried to step on the outside lead to get away from her direction, but she brought him back in. He allowed her to trot him over to the two man audience they had. At least she had thought it was just Rip and Mr. Dutton. Everyone else from the bunkhouse had joined in to watch the free rodeo.

Lloyd looked proud. “We could make you a rodeo queen yet, little bit.”

Stella let out a full belly laugh. “Oh my god, Lloyd. Hell no. I like where my spine is. I’ll be just fine without the buckle.”

She stopped in front of John and he passed her glasses over to her. “He’s got a lot of work ahead of him, but I really don’t think anyone but Kayce is gonna be able to do anything with him. Or at least have him agreeable. This is absolutely your son’s horse, sir.” She got down and gave Tank a few good pats on his shoulder.

John and Stella shared a look of understanding and she put her glasses back on. They both knew exactly what she meant about Tank being Kayce’s. More so, Kayce being Tank’s. She breathed a chuckle through her nose and handed the reins over to Rip.

“I’ll keep trying with him tomorrow. I’ll talk to Kayce about him if you want me to?” She offered.

She watched Rip walk off and holler out, “Jimmy! Saddle up! We’ll make you a cowboy, yet.” Bless that man for what they were about to do to him.

“Yeah Stella. You do that for me.” John directed her.

She sent a text to Kayce. Hey, you got a minute to talk about that horse of yours? When she brought her eyes back up from her phone, she almost choked at the sight before her. Jimmy was now duck taped to Tank and being given explicit directions by Rip. Stella wandered over to her brother and Colby. She heard them placing bets on the horse or Jimmy.

“That horse has a name, ya know.”

“And what would that be, little bit?” Colby asked sarcastically.

She bit back. “His name is Tank if you would have paid attention at all.” She came to occupy the space between the bro-buds and Mr. Dutton and Rip.

“Do I detect some defensiveness?” Ryan goaded her.

Stella leaned forward on the fence and placed her foot up on a rung. “I never said I wasn’t gonna put money on the horse. I just want you to use his name, is all. Respect him and he’ll respect you. Maybe.” She cracked a smile. “I put $20 on Tank.” John let out a gruff chuckle from her right hand side. “I expect both of you to pay up too.” She joked to her bosses.

Ryan hissed through his teeth at her as Rip and John guffawed at her challenge. “Stella Lee!”

“What?” She bounced her shoulders. “Alls fair. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?” She focused on Jimmy and the horse, bouncing around just like she and John had been not long before. She felt for the poor kid because they were so rough on him, but he needed to harden up some.

Silence overtook her. This is where she would have been standing while watching Lee in the pen. Ryan glanced over at his sister when he realized she had gone silent.

He leaned toward her. “You okay?”

“I will be.” She murmured back. She didn’t have the energy to get into it.

Ryan questioned quietly. “Lee?” She confirmed silently. He sighed and placed an arm around her. “We’ll get through this, Stellee. I promise.”

Her phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans. Pulling it out, she glanced at the message preview. If you mean my father’s horse, I guess I got some time.

She replied. You want me to call you?

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I might gotta make a phone call.” Stella announced to the men as she removed herself from under her brother's arm. She figured the barn would be the closest and quietest place. Jamie was just walking up as she made her exit, and she acknowledged him in a quick greeting.

In through the side door she went. She figured she could say hi to her baby at the same time. Abigail made a happy noise at her arrival. Stella caressed her muzzle fondly. “Come on girl, back up.” She clucked twice and gently pushed her muzzle and the bay roan moved backward. Opening the stall door, she moved inside to the cleanest part and made herself comfortable on the floor to wait for Kayce’s approval to call.

She heard movement from the front of the barn. Her eyebrows pulled together. It was past morning turnout, and it wasn’t feed time, so no one should really be in here. She went to move back out into the hallway when she faintly heard John talking to Jamie.

“Did they identify Kayce?” John asked. Stella tilted her head quizzically and stopped moving. What did they mean, “identify Kayce”?

Jamie answered. “Not yet.”

“Who are the agents we’re talking about?” John asked.

“It’s, uh, Tom Reynolds and Aaron McReary.” Jamie offered up.

John pursed his lips in contemplation. “Reynolds I can deal with. I don’t know this McReary.”

“Yeah, he lives in the south end of the valley. Word is he likes his religion.”

“As in “won’t tell a lie” likes it?”

“Yeah, that would be my guess.” Jamie exhaled heavily.

“Find out where he goes to church. Anything else?” John thought twice. “Anything else? You said there were a few.”

Jamie sighed. “The medical examiners report. You’re not gonna like it.”

“Who else has seen the report?” As John questioned his second oldest son, Stella leaned forward to try and peek out the bars of the stall.

“The only ones who have seen it, want it to change.”

“Then it’ll change.” John started walking in her direction. Stella withdrew from the bars and bent down in the front corner to avoid being seen.

“It means they’re doctors. Which means they took an oath and it wasn’t to you. No matter what we do the photographs won’t change. The body won’t change. It’ll tell the same story to anybody who looks.” Jamie started to raise his voice.

“The body is buried, Jamie. Relax.”

“Yeah, but when they see the report…”

Abigail chose the most inopportune time to snort loudly. Stella squeezed her eyes shut, fixed her glasses, and put her hand on the underside of Abigail’s stomach. She tried to convince her to be quiet.

“When they see the report what?”

“When they see –,” John spoke over Jamie.

“–You think I’m just gonna let them dig up my son?”

“When they see the report they’re not gonna ask, they’re just gonna do it, dad.”

“Don’t say it –,”

“–I think–,”

“–Don’t say it –,”

“–I think we should beat them to it.”

“Don't even think it!”

Stella could hear things getting heated. She wanted to know, but also didn’t. She looked at the stall window that faced the one back paddock for the horses. Silently she thanked God for her girl having one of the few rooms with a VIP view. She gave Abigail a pat and tried to quietly climb out the window. She accidentally leaned back against the open section and it bounced against the barn. She grimaced as her feet dropped to the ground semi-gracefully. She thought she was in the clear as she took off. Unbeknownst to Stella, John had heard the noise from Abigail’s stall on his way out.

She was gonna have to go around the barn the long way to avoid running into John. She made an immediate left to wrap back around and texted Kayce. Actually, can I just meet you at your house?

There was only a few minutes in between messages. Yeah, that’s fine with us. Stella thanked God above and darted to her car. She didn’t catch John as he peeked around the corner and watched her race off.

Comments, thoughts, commentary, and asks are welcome! Just please be gentle lol. 🤓

#kayce dutton #luke grimes #ian bohen #kayce dutton fan fiction #ian bohen : ryan #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone fanfiction #SH chapter two #yellowstonetv

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