#another one of the girls in my second job quit 🥺

[becca-e-barnes]

My fyp has been inundated with videos of a beautifully dishevelled Matty Healy and it's giving me so many submissive CEO vibes 🙈

Because I can't stop thinking about leaning against the edge of CEO!Bucky's desk, maybe after or during the office Christmas party.

You're still fully dressed, cradling the glass of white wine you brought up from the party downstairs and feeling pretty well put together compared to the man in front of you. Your blouse has lost its top button but that's nothing compared to how Bucky looks.

Bucky's white shirt is entirely undone, his sleeves unbuttoned and rolled to his elbows and his shirt is untucked from the waistband of his black dress trousers.

Not only that, he's kneeling on the plush carpet in front of you, between your slightly spread legs, desperate for some relief.

You've teased him relentlessly tonight. You know you have. You've sent him photos and filthy messages, promising what he already knows; that you're soaking wet and looking forward to getting him alone.

But now you've got him alone and you're not ready to give in just yet. He sounds so sweet when he begs and no one begs like he does. He's already dropped to his knees, intent on worshipping every inch of skin he has access to until you grant him permission to kiss further and right now, that's the expanse of skin between your ankle and the hem of your pencil skirt.

"Baby..." He whispers, holding one of your ankles in his hands while he charts a course of open mouthed kisses over your skin. "You're fucking relentless."

You can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. He knows exactly how to make you feel sexy and confident and it's dizzying.

"You didn't tell me to stop." Your fingers drift through his hair and for a brief second, his lips pull away from your skin.

"Why the fuck would I tell you to stop?" That thought hadn't crossed his mind. Despite the risk and his own frustration, he never considered asking you for less. He only ever wanted more.

"You got yourself all worked up. You were so horny and pathetic you couldn't even focus on small talk." While he resumes his worship of your right leg, you press the pointed toe of your left shoe to the growing bulge in the front of his trousers.

"Don't ever stop. Please." He whispers, his eyes squeezed shut, trying not to give into his own need to grind against the sole of your shoe.

You chuckle, pressing a little harder, earning you a groan from the man you're ruining. "Do you hear yourself? You're a stupid little mess and it's fucking embarrassing." It only takes you a second to hike your skirt up, pressing your own panties to the side and his eyes are now fixed on your soaking wet sex.

"Don't get excited." You chastise. "I'm going to play and you're going to watch. If you're well behaved, I'll let you fuck yourself stupid in me but only if I think you deserve it." Two of your fingers drift over your glistening cunt, teasing your clit before sinking into your fluttering entrance.

The quiet, slick sounds of your arousal are almost too much for Bucky but he's even more overwhelmed when your press your wet fingertips to his plump bottom lip. Despite what he needs, he doesn't lick his lip immediately; he knows better than to do that.

"Good boy." You hum your approval once you're satisfied he's waited long enough. God, you feel powerful like this, watching someone so influential and composed come apart under the sole of your shoe.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Ooo hiya!! (I ranted a lot lol)🥰🍊💜

Can I please request a Tangerine x fem!civilian/innocent!reader where she was on the Bullet Train. She was walking to her seat, and when Kimura ran into the snack cart, he also ran into her, causing her to trip, falling onto Tangerine’s lap and him catching her (oh he would have a field day lol). Y/n being like 😳 as she realizes she’s been sitting on his lap for a good 10 seconds staring at him with wide eyes, her hands on his chest (once again, he’d have a field day lol, soo much flirting would ensue, he’d enjoy how flustered she’d get). Her stuttering, apologizing, and jumping up out of his arms and scurrying to her seat, which happens to be right across from Tan and Lemon’s.😂 He then spends the whole time on that train protecting (and flirting with) Y/n and when Lemon, Tangerine, and Y/n escape the train (Tan carrying a very scared Y/n), Y/n doesn’t want to leave Tan + they bring her to their safe house with them🥺

I love this.

Flustered

This was the last situation that tangerine had been worried about while on any mission.

You had been walking, and a nice lady with a snack cart was behind you. But suddenly, you didn’t hear or see a man behind you. He pushed you aside.

“Oi! Watch where you’re goin’.” Another man said. Except the voice was much closer. You didn’t even realize you were in his lap until you looked and opened your eyes.

“S- sorry.” The other man apologized and quickly walked away.

“You alright, love?” The man asked, he had a hand on your back and tried to help you get up. You stared at his eyes, trying to find words.

“I- uh- I- yeah! I’m fine. Thanks uh, for catching me. Sorry, for the…” You laughed nervously after a little and quickly stood up.you looked around and sat back down at your seat. Which was right across from him and some other guy.

He smiled. He noticed that you seemed flustered, and decided to use it to his advantage.

“It’s quite alright, no worries, darling. I would say it’s more lucky to have a pretty girl fall into your lap, wouldn’t you think?”

Pretty? You thought. And Lemon scoffed at him.

“I- well- uh- thanks. Your also pretty.” You mentally winced as the words came out your mouth.

“You seriously trying to pick up a girl while on a job?” Lemon asked him quietly, quiet enough that you didn’t hear. You looked out the window and had your headphones in.

“I’m not. They just happen to fall in my lap.” He glanced at you.

“Wow, that was surprisingly clever.” Lemon rolled his eyes, And tangerine just sent him a scowl.

“Just sayin’, mate.” He laughed at his anger.

“Whatever. Can we get back on task?”

“Sure, sure, sure.”

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

After some talking between you and tangerine, he learned your name and you learned his. Yoh even learned that the guy next to him was his brother, Lemon. You both said your stops were Kyoto station.

Some man pointed a gun at Lemon, and another man sat next the both of them. That man died, and you were left confused and scared.

You decided to sleep it off, and getting off at the next station. Maybe you were dreaming, and you would wake up when you went to sleep in the dream.

(Let’s just say in this that Lemon, Ladybug, and Tangerine left early like Ladybug suggested)

“Hey. Wake up.” Someone shook you, and you looked confused, until you saw tangerine.

“Tangerine?” You muttered.

“Yeah, uh, we should get off. Like right now.”

“We’re there already?”

“Uh… yeah. So, c’mon, hurry.” He grabbed your hand and tan quickly, and the doors started to close but you guys luckily beat it.

“That was a close one, mate.” Lemon said.

“Aren’t you the same guy that pulled a gun on him?” You mumbled, and pointed to ladybug.

“Oh. Yeah. But we’re all good now.”

“So now what the fuck do we do?” You asked.

“I have a safehouse nearby.” Ladybug said.

“I’m sorry, who are you again?” You asked.

“I’m.. ladybug.”

“What’s with all the weird names? Lemon, tangerine and ladybug?”

“We’re contract killers. They’re just nicknames.” Lemon said plainly.

“What..? Seriously?”

“Not me. I just usually do snatch and grabs, Y’Know, steal things, but I’m covering someone.” Ladybug said.

“Why’d you take me out the train early?” You asked Tangerine as all of you walked to the house.

“Cause the rest of the train is full of murderous bastards that are all about to die. You seemed like the only trustworthy person on there.”

“Nah, he just wants to take you on a date.” Lemon said, laughing as his brother hit him in the arm.

“That too, I guess.” Tangerine said.

“Okay, so let me get this straight, first I somehow run into you because some guy ran into me and I fell in your lap, Ladybug pointed a gun at your brother and it’s all good now, some guy was dead next to you, you all are contract killers, and the train was full of murderers?”

“Yeah. Basically.”

“And now you wanna take me on a date.”

“Yeah.”

“Weird.. but Sure, why not.” You shrugged.

Sure, maybe you were going out with somewhat of a stranger, but it was a cute stranger, and he just saved you. You were glad you fell into his lap.

(I don’t like this that much but hopefully it’s not terrible)

[clumsy-jiminie]

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

❝ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ʜᴏᴏᴅɪᴇ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 4.7k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, angst without resolve, smut - marking, unprotected sex, creampie

↣ notes :: pretty pretty please don't let anyone treat you like this 🥺 small argument or not, there are healthy ways to communicate this type of insecurity 🫶🏽

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"I can see that look in your eyes, the one that shoots me every time you grace me with your cold shoulder."

- ᴄᴏʟᴅ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ, ᴀᴅᴇʟᴇ -

Kiara stuffed her hands in her oversized hoodie pocket as her feet led her through the hustle and bustle of the city streets. The weather was getting more tolerable as they approached a new month in the year. But then again, you could have a full snowstorm in New York in the spring. She kept her outfit light today, as light as she could go without freezing: A hoodie, a pair of leggings, and a spring jacket. The sneakers on her feet were old—dirt and stains in the crevices while the laces started wearing out. Kehlani blasted through her headphones as she weaved through people. She missed the city dearly. There was something about the feeling here that was addictive. Everyone had somewhere to be—whether it was to a job that they hated or a job that they loved, to see a family member, to sell a hat, to shop until they created a debt, or to see something incredible. Everyone had a story, no matter how big or small.

Kiara's story led her to a quaint coffee shop. Tiny and modern, it is a perfect puzzle piece in the large-scale picture of Manhattan—the smell of dark beans roasting mixed with the semi-sweet scents of freshly baked pastries. Exposed brick and pipes gave the place an industrial feel, partnered with the greenery hanging from the walls. Furniture with dark wood and black metal legs contrasted with the grey concrete flooring.

Despite it now being a crowded place where teens and adults alike could get their daily fix of the dark liquid, she knew this place from its humble beginnings. Mr. Choi brewed a mean cup of Joe, and she would sip it during the early morning rush before class in college. She and her best friends practically lived in this shop during school. They were always the first to arrive and the last to leave. Mr. Choi almost adopted them, considering how often they were there. Jeongguk even got a job here at some point, figuring if he was going to spend all his time here, he might as well get paid for it.

They still gather here occasionally, especially on days like today. When Kiara arrived at the door, she pushed it open. A crowd greeted her upon entering. Most had drinks in their hands already but were struggling to find a seat in this small coffee shop. Kiara squeezed through the people until she arrived at her usual table. A seat by the window had her name engraved on it, and she slid into it with ease. She finally pulled off her headphones, greeting the midnight-haired girl across from her.

Samira glanced up from her tablet, her lips forming a wide smile as she chewed her gum. "Sup Ki."

"Not much. You doing wedding work?" She asked as she watched Samira write on the device while looking at information on her phone.

She nodded. "I gotta get these bouquet choices to Momo later today. I also gotta show her these swatches of blue." She tapped on her tablet several times before lifting it to show the woman.

Kiara stared at the four squares on the screen. Each blue was the same hue, but the tints, shades, and undertones varied. Her lips pursed as she examined the options. "I, personally, like the first one," she said as she leaned back. "It's soft and kinda reminds me of winter. Like how the sky looks on a clear day."

Samira turned the device back to her, staring at the color while she nodded. "See, this is why it's always great to have an artist as a friend." Kiara rolled her eyes while Samira chuckled. "Speaking of, anything happening with that? Are you close to buying that house like the sugar mama you are?"

Kiara's jaw dropped before she lifted her leg to kick the girl under the table. Samira laughed loudly. "I'm not a sugar mama!"

"Is he helping you pay?"

"…No."

"Then you're a sugar mama." Samira was always so blunt, and that's why Kiara loved her. It wasn't always jokes, but she would always call the girl out when she was being dramatic or wrong.

"Anyway!" Kiara exclaimed. "I had a client dinner last night."

”Ooh, tea time." Samira locked her table and phone, giving the other her full attention. "Was he hot? Was he single? You had a little fun last night?" She asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. She leaned in, resting her elbows on the table while holding her face in her hands.

Kiara's face suddenly grew hot, and she reached up to involuntarily cover her neck with her hand. She had forgotten about the hickey Taehyung had left on her for a split second, hoping the hoodie would've covered it for her. "No!" She said quickly, hoping Samira didn't notice the red staining her cheeks. But she did, causing a smirk on her friend's lips. "He was that same asshat from the gallery."

"Oh." Her smirk quickly faded. She scrunched up her nose with disgust as her shoulders dropped.

"And turns out he wasn't just having a bad day. He was actually just a dick. He called me a coward, then selfish! All because I would rather separate my painter life from my regular life." Kiara pouted at the end of her sentence, leaning back into her chair. It was still a fresh wound, making her rethink every choice she had made thus far.

Samira scoffed. "He obviously doesn't know you. In fact, if you ever see him on the streets, let me know. I'll beat his ass."

Kiara's eyes widened as she quietly chuckled. "What is with you and Kookie being so violent?"

"Don't act like you're not the same. Just because you're in a little relationship that has you acting all prim and proper doesn't mean I don't know the real Kiara and how she used to beat ass because someone looked at me funny."

Kiara rolled her eyes. "I was younger back then and clearly had uncontrolled anger."

"Yeah, sure," Samira smiled while shaking her head. "Speaking of JK, when is he going up?"

Kiara shrugged as she grabbed her phone, looking at the time. "You know he never gives a time for these things." Suddenly, the coffee shop roared with cheers, grabbing the girl's attention. They looked towards a small stage along the shop's farthest wall. "Speak of the devil," she smirked as the tall man approached the stage. He wore a black T-shirt with a pair of dark denim jeans. There was a silver chain that hung from his belt loops. Sitting down at the piano on the stage, he tugged a stray strand of his midnight hair behind his ear. A microphone was attached to the instrument, angled perfectly so the person could speak.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen," his smooth voice entered the mic and echoed through the establishment. Samira and Kiara locked eyes before covering their mouths to hide the giggles that quietly escaped. "This song is called 17, and I hope you enjoy it."

His fingers began to press on the white and black keys, combining the notes until they formed a beautiful melody.

"I would need a million words if I tried to define all the things you mean to me…." 

His voice was like laying on a cloud — soft and fluffy, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Everyone in the store was mesmerized; even those who came in solely for a beverage stopped to listen for a few moments. They always left with a broad smile after. Jeongguk's voice has affected people ever since he was little. Kiara couldn't help but smile as she watched her best friend do what he loved. He shut his eyes as he sang, tuning out everything around him until nothing was left but notes. Kiara felt like a mother watching her child's first performance. 

She knew everyone in that room fell in love based on their reaction when Jeongguk sang his last note. It was overwhelmingly positive. The audience overfilled the tip jar near the bottom of the stage with bills and coins. Jeongguk stood up with a smile so wide on his lips that his eyes crinkled, smiling along with him. He bowed as the crowd cheered for him, leaning down to grab the tip jar before walking off the stage. Women who were bold enough stopped and flirted with him as he passed through the crowd. All Jeongguk did was laugh it off and politely turn them down, leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him. He reached his usual table, dropping the jar onto the table with an obnoxious thud. He made the same sound as he dropped down in the seat next to Kiara, letting out a dramatic sigh.

The girls exchanged a look before watching as his eyes closed, breathing heavily. "God, it's so hard being wanted." The two burst into laughter as he grinned, opening his eyes to look at them. "So? What did you guys think?"

"Not my favorite song," Samira said with a smirk.

"It's a good thing I don't value your opinion," Jeongguk quipped before sticking his tongue out, causing her to mirror his reaction. After a moment, he turned his head to Kiara, waiting for her answer.

"You know I loved it Kookie." She smiled at him, making his heart skip a beat as heat rushed to his ears. She chuckled as she poked at his reddening skin with her finger, making his body scrunch up like a snail recoiling into their shell. "How long did it take to write this one?"

"Only a few weeks this time," he answered with a smile. His silver lip rings glimmered as he spoke.

Kiara's smile was still etched on her lips, leaning over to the man. The scent of fresh laundry with the faintest hint of cologne entered her nostrils as she cupped his jaw in her hand. She squeezed Jeongguk's cheeks until his pink lips puffed out, shaking his head from side to side a little. "Look at him, Sammie! Our little bunny boy is growing up so fast!" Jeongguk chuckled, trying to pull her hand away, but her grip was tight.

Samira grinned, reaching her hand out to join in the fun of playing with Jeongguk's face. Her hand replaced Kiara's as she pouted out her lips. "I know! We did such a good job raising our little bunny boy." She teased in a baby voice.

Jeongguk rolled his eyes, pulling Samira's hand away from his face. "You know we're the same age, right?!"

The two girls glanced at each other before looking at the man. "And?" Kiara asked.

"Your point?" Samira added.

Jeongguk stared at them, shaking his head as he smiled. "You guys kill me." He reached into his tip jar, pulling out various bill amounts. "Y'all what something? It's on me."

The girls enthusiastically agreed before Jeongguk handed Kiara some money. She got their orders before standing up and walking towards the counter. She squeezed through the shoulders of random customers. Most waited for their drink orders, while others stayed for the atmosphere. Kiara hated crowded places like this. People had no respect for personal space or sense of how much space they took up. And because it's an establishment, she couldn't necessarily mow through people like she could on the streets. The crowd was less tight when she finally got closer to the counter. She sighed deeply, taking a single step before someone bumped right into her. She quickly felt something warm spreading from her chest to her abdomen, glancing down to see coffee all over her cream hoodie.

”What the fuck?!" She shrieked without taking a second to remember where she was. She reached for the napkins on the counter, frantically patting at her chest and torso.

"Oh my god, I'm so—" His eyes then met with the familiar golden skin Kiara possessed. He couldn't help the playful smirk that formed on his lips. "Well, doesn't karma have a funny way of working?" Jimin said, his words laced with smugness.

Kiara glared up at the blonde, huffing as she accepted defeat. Her hoodie was forever stained. "Eat ass, Park." His eyelids lowered at the girl. Why did his last name sound so unique, leaving her mouth wrapped in that annoyed tone? Maybe it was how she formed the noun—the light reflecting off lovely glossed lips as they parted to allow the syllable to roll off her tongue. It was intoxicating to watch. "You owe me a new shirt!"

His brows drew together as he tilted his head to the side. "Oh? If that's the case, I should send you my dry cleaning bill from last night."

"Fuck you, that was water!" She snapped at him. "And this is coffee! I'm never gonna get this out!"

His face remained unchanged despite receiving daggers from the girl. The most he did was shrug, causing her jaw to drop. "It wasn't that cute of a hoodie."

"What do you know about cute hoodies?!" She sounded a bit like a child, making the man chuckle softly.

"Enough to know yours isn't."

Kiara's eye twitched before she covered her face with her hands. She dragged them down her face, pulling gently at the skin as it relieved some of the building stress. She wanted to punch him in his nose. Or his mouth. Or anywhere on his body, in that case. He was such an asshole. The least he could've said was sorry. Maybe even offer to buy her a new hoodie. But no, even in moments where he was wrong, he still was an asshole through and through. "You are such a—"

"Woah, what the fuck happened?" She recognized Jeongguk's voice almost instantly. He stood beside her, staring at the massive stain on her shirt. Jimin eyed the new man, practically sizing him up despite the man being taller.

She inhaled deeply before sighing. "Nothing, nothing," she said as she shook her head. She wrapped her fingers around the man's tattooed bicep as she looked up at him. Eyes so big and round. Love, the blonde thought as he watched their interaction intently. How come she never looked at Jimin like that? But why did he want her to look at him like that? "Do you have a spare hoodie?"

The man looked down at her with the softest eyes, like she was the only person in the world to him. Jimin's brows furrowed again as he watched the warm smile form on Jeongguk's lips. "Yeah, of course."

She didn't need to say thank you; her eyes said more than enough. She then glanced towards Jimin, and for the second time, he witnessed that fondness instantly dissipating. Kiara's amber eyes were set ablaze once again. "Fuck you," she spat before Jeongguk led her away. They disappeared behind some door with a sign that read employees only. Jimin felt the same heavy feeling from before, sitting uncomfortably in his stomach. He didn't know why he wanted her to look at him with fondness so severely. She was annoying, a coward, a complete headache, and nowhere near his type. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment before rejoining the line.

"He's such a fucking jerk!" Kiara groaned as she followed behind Jeongguk to the break room area. "Who the fuck spills coffee on someone and doesn't even apologize?!"

He stopped in front of his locker and opened it, grabbing one of the two hoodies that were inside. When working at a cafe with clumsy newbies, spare clothing is more of a necessity than a suggestion. "Who the fuck was he?" He asked as he tossed her the hoodie, and she caught it.

"The same dickhead from last night," she grumbled. She pulled her hoodie over her head, leaving her standing in just a red bra with an intricate white lace pattern. Jeongguk's eyes widened briefly before quickly looking up at the ceiling. Heat flooded his ears and over his face, as he tried to forget the image he just saw. "Like, first of all, what are the odds?" Kiara continued to rant casually as if she wasn't half naked. She pulled Jeongguk's black clothing over her head, slipping into the three times too big fabric. "Second of all, he's lucky I didn't fucking deck him."

Jeongguk's eyes finally returned to the girl once she was clothed again. "Wait, what? The guy from last night?"

Kiara nodded as she picked up her dirty hoodie. When she looked towards Jeongguk, he was suddenly gone. Her eyes grew wide as she ran after him. "Kookie!" She yelled as he walked through the door. She returned to the central part of the cafe, seeing Jeongguk glance around with his brows furrowed. She grabbed him, but that didn't stop him from scanning the room. "You're on the clock!" She whispered.

All Jeongguk did was suck his teeth. "Man's lucky I like my job," he continued to look regardless, "and I can't find him."

Kiara rolled her eyes before patting his chest, "You need therapy."

"You need therapy," Jeongguk taunted quietly as Kiara joined the line again.

Kiara said goodbye to Jeongguk, watching him pull off on his motorcycle before walking inside her house. She sighed heavily upon entering, her energy drained from today's activities. After the coffee shop debacle, the three decided to hang out at Samira's house like old times. Little did Jeongguk and Kiara know that agreeing to hang out meant helping her with wedding planning. The woman was so passionate and dedicated to her job that it was something to admire, but only from afar. Her apartment was a wreck, littered with pictures and business cards. Kiara knew Samira's seriousness about her job, but since agreeing to be Momo's wedding planner, she has gone off her rocker. She ate, slept, breathed wedding details, and dragged the other two into it.

As she kicked off her sneakers, she could hear jazz music blasting from the kitchen. "Babe?" She called out as her feet led her amongst the familiar path.

Soon, Taehyung popped his head into the kitchen archway, causing a smile on Kiara's lips. "Darling! When did you get home? I'm just about done with dinner." His boxy grin made her heart skip a beat. She soon joined him in the kitchen while he resumed cooking. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she pressed her face into his back. She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent mixed with fresh laundry. Taehyung chuckled softly, "Long day?" Kiara nodded, moving along with him as he acted like she wasn't currently attached to him. "Wanna talk about it over dinner?" She nodded again, releasing him once he picked up the plates. 

They sat at their small dining room table, peacefully munching their food. Kiara looked up at Taehyung, who focused on his plate. That same warmth swamped her system. She felt so happy with him. She loved this small house they called home. She loved coming home after a long day to see his smiling face. She loved how comfortable she was with him. She glanced down at her left hand, eying her bare ring finger. If only this were enough for him.

"So?" Taehyung started with a mouth full of food. She filled him in on the events of last night and how they bled into today. Taehyung's features remained blank until the end, where he raised his eyebrows and shrugged a little. "I honestly wouldn't put that past him. He's a little snobby."

"There's a difference between being a little snobby and a complete dick. Like, do you think I'm selfish?" She asked as she placed her fork down.

He shrugged again. "You have your moments, but I don't think it's like what he's saying."

"Exactly! Everyone is a little selfish; it's just human. But he's making it seem like I wanna keep everything to myself on purpose." She folded her arms over her chest as she leaned into her chair.

Taehyung glanced at her, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Is that a new hoodie?" He stared at the dark fabric covering her body with a red skull and crossbones decal in the center.

"No, it's JK's. He gave it to me after Jimin practically dumped his coffee on me."

"JK's?" He repeated to himself, almost scoffing as he nodded his head.

Kiara watched his reaction closely—how his body suddenly tense up and the corner of his lips pushed downward. She rolled her eyes before shutting them as she leaned her head back into the chair. "Don't start."

"Don't start what?" He chuckled, absent of any joy. "I just find it funny that you come home in his hoodie. He drop you off too?"

"Yes, he did. And it's just a hoodie, Tae. I didn't want to walk around with a huge coffee stain on me, especially in public."

"Samira didn't have anything?"

"No?" She snapped a little, raising her head and opening her eyes to look at him. Taehyung's eyes narrowed at her. "Why would Samira carry around extra clothing?"

"But he did? Or did he peel his own shirt off to give to you?" He laughed, running his hands through his slightly curled locks. "Shit like this always seems to conveniently happen to you. You come home with a piece of JK on you; whether it's his clothing or his smell, you were wearing his boxer briefs once!"

"Oh my god," Kiara mumbled while pressing her fingers to her temple.

"What was that?" Taehyung suddenly raised his voice. Her eyes met his, and just as she opened her mouth to respond, he lifted his hand. He used the gesture to silence her, and it did just that. The words died on her tongue, abandoned sounds running around in her head. "You know, this is getting ridiculous. If I had a girl best friend doing all of this with me, you would've flipped your shit a long time ago."

"Taehyung," she tried her hardest to remain calm. It would've been over if she raised her voice or said something with a hint of sarcasm. "I have been friends with this man for years now. There is absolutely nothing between us."

He scoffed loudly, "That's a likely story." He stood up from the table and walked over to the living room. Kiara sighed as she got up, following after him. She noticed he grabbed his leather jacket and a white baseball cap. He put the hat on to hide his midnight hair.

"Where are you going?" She asked, but there was no response. She rolled her eyes. "Taehyung," she reached out to grab his hand, but he quickly pulled away. He glared at her over his shoulder, making her step back. 

She hated it when he looked at her like that. Like she was something vile, it made every insecurity she had crawl out of the depths of her brain and take center stage. Taehyung slid on some shoes, grabbed his keys, and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him. Her body jumped at the noise, tears stinging her eyes as she watched him pull out of the driveway from her window.

"Fuck," she sighed softly, turning to the table to grab her phone. She frantically clicked on Taehyung's contact, which was sent to voicemail each time. The tears filled to the brim before rolling down her cheeks silently. She used the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe away the waterworks, the hoodie that caused this whole mess. She never understood why he got like this and flipped a switch with ease. It was always over the tiniest things, too. She sat on the couch, chewing on her nails as she repeatedly called the man.

Taehyung was gone for hours, and by the time he returned home, he found Kiara passed out on the couch. She had replaced Jeongguk's black hoodie with one of Taehyung's grey ones instead. He carefully removed his jacket and shoes before walking to the sleeping girl and sitting in front of her. He gently wiped away her smudged mascara, causing her to scrunch her nose as she started to awake. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, and then her cheek. He gently persuaded her to wake up, her tired eyes finally fluttering open to meet his. There weren't any words exchanged between the two before he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was timid and soft. She followed his lead until she couldn't help but yearn for more of him.

The kiss guided Taehyung onto his knees, then to the couch with Kiara, where he found a place between her legs. Her hands ran up his arms, feeling his muscles subtly flexed underneath her touch. Within time, the kiss between the two grew heavier, his tongue gently appearing by grazing past her lip. She parted them just enough to let him in, their tongues gliding past each other as he pressed his hips into hers. Her hand traveled up to his head, where she swiftly pulled the cap off and tossed it to the ground. She ran her fingers through his soft hair, causing a soft moan to escape from his lips to hers.

He broke the kiss as his hand caressed her thigh. His lips found her neck, placing various kisses against her skin until her chest arched into his. And that's where he stayed, adding another bruise to her golden skin where the first one had barely healed. She moaned out for him, pressing her hips into his as she silently begged for more. He stuck his hand between their bodies, slipping his fingers underneath the fabric of her underwear. His middle finger found her clitoris with ease, gently circling it with the pad of his finger. Kiara tensed from his touch and then released. A chorus of moans parted from her throat as she tried to match the circling of her hips to his finger. 

After being satisfied with the bruise on her neck, he crashed his lips into hers again. Her hips bucked against his finger, making his cock throb in his sweatpants. He couldn't wait much longer, breaking the kiss once again. He pulled his hand out of her panties before swiftly sliding them down her legs. He didn't bother with taking his pants off, only pulling them down enough for his member to spring free. He aligned himself with her entrance, sliding his tip in between her lips to lube himself up before pushing forward. She sucked in through her teeth, her brows furrowing as she tried to get accommodated to his length. It stung a little, but Taehyung continued, slowly pulling his hips back and then forward again. As soon as Kiara's face relaxed, he increased his pace.

Her eyes shut as she moaned out for him, gripping his arm tightly as he stretched out her walls. He worked her into the couch, skin slapping together as he fell into a rhythm. He leaned forward, resting his temple against hers as he panted and groaned into her ear. She whined, her hands traveling to his back where nails dug into his skin through the fabric. The power of his hips increased, his tip pressing into her cervix until he suddenly bottomed out and stopped. She could feel him throbbing before he pulled out of her. There was a cool breeze on her lower region as he got up, pulling his pants back onto his waist. He sat down beside her, panting as he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. She felt uncomfortably wet, scared to move in fear of pushing Taehyung's seed out and onto the fabric of the couch.

"I'm going to bed," he said before getting up. He walked towards the bedroom before disappearing from her line of sight.

Kiara's eyes were wide with shock, and she scoffed quietly as she carefully pushed herself off the couch. She grabbed her underwear off the floor and shuffled to the bathroom, where she cleaned herself up. She couldn't understand how, even after that, he could still be cold to her. What was the point if he was still upset? After her shower, she walked into the room and crawled into the space next to him, feeling more alone than before.

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

[she-is-juniper]

Put It Into Practice — Steve Harrington x Reader (chapter one)

Pairing: Scoops Ahoy!Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Rating (by chapter): M (Mature) (next chapter will be Explicit!)

Summary: “King Steve” Harrington had been the subject of swooning for every girl in their right mind back in high school. But when his sexual dexterity comes into question the summer after graduation, Steve is not about to let his reputation become marred quite so easily. Luckily, Steve is offered the help of his new friend—to give him advice, a few pointers, and maybe a bit of healthy practice…

Word Count (by chapter): 6k

Content: cursing, healthy banter, a teeny bit of angst, setting y'all up for some real good smut to come

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Stranger Things or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized. 

A/N: This is my first fanfic in 2 years! I'm new to the Stranger Things fandom, so show me some love, feedback, follows, etc? 🥺 (P.S. New followers will have dibs for REQUESTS which I will open very soon!!)

I nearly forgot—thank you hugely to @o-holynight for reading through this fic for me when I needed some assistance!! ♡

READ CHAPTER 2 NOW!!

On a quieter-than-usual summer weekday at the Starcourt Mall, Steve Harrington looks even more sullen than he usually does while slinging ice cream samples from behind the counter at Scoops Ahoy. As one of his closest friends, you’re well aware of the usual reasons for Steve’s insufferable moping—shitty job, shitty parents, shitty sex life—but today, something about the lifeless droop to his eyes indicates there’s something else going on. 

“What happened to you, Harrington?” you ask, pulling off your work cap as you walk into the ice cream parlor.

Steve looks up at you from the cash register, but he glances down to resume counting cash in lieu of his usual greeting of a smile. You frown. During your part-time shifts at The Great Cookie, you typically spend your fifteen minute work breaks visiting with Steve and Robin—ergo, teaming up with Robin to poke fun at Steve. It’s all in good fun, though, and Steve typically matches your jests with some good-natured teasing of his own.

Not today, though. “I’m not in the mood to hang out today, Y/N,” Steve grumbles—a sound not uncharacteristic for him, yet somehow even grumblier than usual.

You ignore him, sauntering through the empty parlor and propping your elbows against the glass counters above the ice cream tubs. “What? Drop another banana boat on a customer?”

Steve winces, likely at the memory of the aforementioned fumble from last week, still avoiding your eyes. “Okay, first of all, Gretchen Jarrell totally made me spill her order on purpose so she could complain to my manager and get her ice cream for free.”

A voice chimes in from behind the window to the parlor’s back room. “I’d pay good money to watch you drop another banana boat down Gretchen Jarrell’s cleavage again, Steve.”

“Shut up about it, Robin!” Steve hollers back at his coworker. He turns to speak to you again. “And second of all, I told you I’m not in the mood, so can’t you find somewhere else to loom today?”

“No way,” you protest. “Where else would I go on my break?”

“I dunno. A table at the food court. The Gap. Take a lap around JCPenney for all I care. Just not here.”

“Not until you tell me what the hell’s got your panties all twisted up,” you say, leaning further over the glass counter to flick his shoulder. Steve grimaces and held his arm, glaring at you.

“Ow,” he hisses. “And don’t say panties. Who says panties? That’s gross.”

“You’re such a baby.” You aren’t about to take no for an answer. You like hanging out with Steve, and you know he likes hanging out with you, too. You and Steve have known each other for years all throughout high school—through the likes of Tommy H. and Carol, both of whom you’d effectively de-friended a few months ago, similar to Steve. But it wasn’t until you and Steve got summer jobs at Starcourt this summer that you started becoming close friends, along with Robin Buckley, who you used to play trumpet with in middle school.

Before you can pester Steve further about his sour mood, a group of teenagers come in, donning shopping bags and giggling loudly. Steve’s face suddenly contorts, his eyes shifting right and left as if he were scouring the parlor for a way out. It was too late, though, and the girls flit up to the counter, a wash of bright colors and perfume. You shifted down the counter to give them space, leaning against the side wall and watching.

“Hi, Steve,” one of the girls, red curls ablaze, says in a mock-flirtatious voice.

“H–hi,” he stammers back. 

“Aren’t you gonna ask me what I want to order? Or are you bad at this job, too?” the girl at the front croons, and all the girls behind her titter with laughter. Something about the way she emphasized this job piqued your curiosity. Same as Robin, who peeks out from the window confusedly and meets your gaze. You just shrug.

Steve was starting to turn red at the cheeks. “I–yeah–what can I get for you?”

The red-headed girl taps a manicured finger to her chin and pretends to peruse the tubs of ice cream. “Hmm… I’ll take a scoop of sugar plum, please.”

Steve scans the ice cream flavors in the refrigerated display counter, his whole body fraught with tension. “Sugar plum? Uh…I don’t think we have—”

“What’s the matter?” another girl says, sneering. “Can’t find it, Steve?”

The gaggle of girls bursts into full-on laughter now. Your mouth falls open in disbelief, as does Robin’s. Steve, however, just closes his eyes in humiliation.

“Maybe you need some lessons, Steve,” Redhead drawls, smacking her gum. 

“Yeah,” another pipes up. “Wouldn’t wanna leave any more girls feeling disappointed.”

“Oh, my, god,” Robin whispers, her mouth still agape. Realization starts sinking in for you: they’re not talking about ice cream.

“Alright, alright, joke’s over,” Steve all but growls at the girls. They don’t need to be told twice; their work here is seemingly done. Still laughing at Steve, they mosey out of the parlor, gone just as soon as they came.

“Oh my god,” Robin repeats. Steve’s jaw is set and his mouth pressed into a hard line as he watches the door where the girls departed. 

“Steve…” you begin. “What did you do?”

“Can we just drop this?” Steve sighs.

“Drop it?” Robin says, emerging through the kitchen doors. “Steve. Those girls just came in here and announced to the world, by means of a cryptic ice cream metaphor, that you are bad at sex. We’re not gonna let that one go so easily.”

“I’m not bad at sex, Robin!” Steve barks. Robin just raises an eyebrow. 

“Those girls seem to think otherwise,” you tell him. “Did she really ask you for sugar plum ice cream?” You snort, and Robin bites her lip in an attempt not to smile. You and Robin share a look and start giggling, but the daggers shooting from Steve’s eyes effectively silence your laughter, and you immediately feel a little bad. 

“Can we just get back to work already and pretend like this never happened?” Steve pleaded.

“Absolutely not,” Robin says. “I implore you, Steve, to share with the class who exactly it was—among your numerous female conquests as of late,” she adds sarcastically, “that you seem to have disappointed oh so dearly?”

Steve opens his mouth to protest but, with a heaving sigh, he says, “Fine. I’ll tell you. But for starters, I don’t even know those girls, or why they knew about…about…” 

“...about how bad you are at sex?” I guess.

“I’m not bad at sex!!” he insists again. “It’s just…I’m just… I’m… Maybe I’m not so good at…”

You and Robin stare at him, unblinkingly, waiting.

“...at a certain…element…of sex…maybe.”

Now it’s your turn to say, “Oh, my, god.” It was all making sense. The sugar plum innuendo, the can’t find it joke, and leaving girls disappointed…

Steve Harrington—King Steve Harrington, Steve “The Hair” Harrington, Steve-Who-Any-Girl-In-Her-Right-Mind-Wanted-To-Bang-In-High-School Harrington, your friend Steve Harrington…

…Steve Harrington, your secret crush—something you would never admit to anyone in a million years and have a hard time admitting to even yourself…

…is, evidently, bad at oral sex.

“Can you please stop saying that?!” Steve pleads, just as Robin was about to say “oh my god” again. “You two are so obnoxious, I knew I never should have said anything—”

“Okay, okay,” you say. “I’m sorry, okay? Robin and I are sorry for laughing. Robin, tell Steve we’re sorry.”

“We’re sorry, Steve.” Robin’s wide eyes flit over to you for the briefest of moments, and you’re all of a sudden transported back to your middle school days, passing notes and exchanging glances with Robin and trying not to giggle in the middle of band class. 

“Whatever,” he mutters.

You study him. He somehow looks even more dejected than he had a few moments ago. Every one of his features seems to be drooping. Even his hair —or what you could see of it poking out from his “Scoops Ahoy” hat—looks like it’s drooping.

“It’s just that we were…a bit surprised,” you explain.

At least, you felt surprised. Robin, in turn, chortles. “I’m not surprised, not one bit, that our friend Suave Steve here doesn’t know where the clit is—”

“Ahhh-t-t-t-t,” he hisses and waves a hand vehemently to cut her off. “I know where the—where the clit is, Robin! Will you stop ridiculing me? I swear to god, I will leave right now. This day absolutely sucks ass already, and I don’t need your shitty sense of humor to make it worse for me.”

The humor of the situation dissipates, leaving pity—and a touch of curiosity—in its wake. “I’m sorry those girls came in here like that,” you say genuinely.

“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “Jokes aside, that was…decidedly uncool of them. Who were they anyway?”

Inexplicably, Steve droops even more, hanging his head low. “Friends of Lisa R.’s,” he mopes.

Back in town for summer vacation from Notre Dame, Lisa R. is the latest subject of Steve’s romantic interest for the past few weeks. Having graduated from Hawkins High in the class just before yours and Steve’s, Lisa R. is older than the two of you by a year—and thus way out of Steve’s league, or so he insisted every time she came up in conversation and you urged Steve to ask her out. Last you’d heard from Steve about Lisa R. was that she agreed to see a movie with him over the weekend. Steve had been over the moon when he told you about it during your shift break last Friday—three days earlier.

“Steve,” you say. “What happened with you and Lisa R.?”

“Idon’twannatalkaboutit,” he mumbles.

“Spill, now,” Robin commands. “We’re not gonna stop pestering you about this until you do.”

“I—okay,” he gives in, looking around the store curtly although it’s completely devoid of customers again. “On Friday, I asked her to the movies Saturday night, right? We—”

“Which movie?” Robin cuts him off.

Steve gapes at her. “Does it matter?”

“Pertinently.”

“Fine, if you must know… We saw The Goonies.”

“The Goonies?! Steve!” Robin chides. “You took Lisa R. on a movie date to go see The Goonies? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She throws her hands to her head. “You’re hopeless. He’s hopeless, Y/N.”

“It’s a Steven Spielberg! It looked like a good movie!”

Knowing Steve’s inexplicable proclivity to befriend literal children, you want to make a joke about Steve not being able to resist a film about a band of preteen misfits. But you bite your tongue. “Back to the point,” you say, “how did the date go, Steve?”

“Believe it or not,” he starts, glaring pointedly at Robin, “It went good. Like, really good. Lisa R. said I was cool.” He starts to beam in excitement, but his smile falters. “The movie let out pretty late, so we went in my car after to talk, and, I dunno, hang out.”

He hesitates, and Robin urges him on with a circular motion of her hand.

“Anyway, things start to get, uh, pretty heated…” Steve’s skin reddens almost imperceptibly, except you notice in a heartbeat. You always notice. “And it’s going pretty well, until she…she asks me…”

“Spit it out,” Robin berates him. “Until she asks what, Steve?”

“God, will you just let me explain at my own goddamn pace? She asked me to…to go down on her.” Steve chokes out the words as if they were stuck in his throat. “And, uh…I guess I’d never really done that to a girl before. So I didn’t really know what…” Then, almost like he realizes his surroundings for the first time, Steve glances between you and Robin mortifyingly. “What am I doing? Why am I telling you two about my most embarrassing sexual encounter to date? Jesus Christ…”

You wish he wouldn’t feel so sheepish talking to you and Robin about these kinds of topics, but you can understand why he does. Two pretty girls interrogating the hell out of him after he’d just been publicly humiliated by Lisa R.’s friends? You’d feel embarrassed, too. 

You exchange a look with Robin, determining she’s thinking roughly the same thing. “Hey, we won’t tell anyone,” you reassure him.

“Yeah, your secret’s safe with us,” Robin adds.

Steve crinkles his nose, which you can’t help but find infuriatingly adorable. “Man, as if that even fucking matters anymore. Lisa R.’s already gone and told all her friends about how bad it was. Fuck,” he curses, ripping his hat off and running his hand through his hair. “This is so bad. My reputation is ruined. The whole town probably knows about it by now.”

“Um, probably not the whole town,” Robin consoles. “My parents haven’t caught wind of it yet, probably. Or Mr. Mundy the math teacher, it’s possible he doesn’t know—”

“You know what I mean,” Steve groans in exasperation.

You purse your lips, mulling over everything you’d just heard. Frankly, you’re more than a little shocked to learn that Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High and notoriously popular among the girls of every grade, had never gone down on a girl before.

Not even Nancy Wheeler, you realize with a start, his long-term girlfriend. Poor Nancy. But you regret that thought only a millisecond after thinking it. A man was more than his sexual ability, and as far as you could tell from getting to know him this summer, Steve was probably a pretty great boyfriend, all things considered. Especially after he grew up a bit and ended his friendship with Tommy H. and Carol like you had.

Regardless of it all, it’s clear that Steve’s ego got bruised from the whole experience, badly. You feel bad for Steve that his first experience with going down on a girl was with someone so immature as to go and gossip to her friends afterward about how bad it was—and for them to show up here where he works, just to make him feel even worse about it. Lisa R. sounds like an absolute bitch to you, same as her friends. Steve deserved better for that first experience…someone patient, someone willing to express her desires and guide him in the right direction.

Knowing Steve now—knowing his energy, his personality, his eagerness to impress the women he likes—you wonder how bad it could have actually been for Lisa R. Experience level aside, enthusiasm was half the battle, and you imagined Steve Harrington had enough of that to spare. He couldn’t have been that bad…

Then again, what could you possibly know about any of this? You’d only been in two flings before, and neither of those boys had particularly wowed you in the oral sex department.

As you are preoccupied by your thoughts, Robin and Steve have begun to vex each other again. “But the bigger question is, why are you so concerned about your stupid reputation?” Robin was saying. “You’re graduated now, Steve. There are better things to worry about.”

“Oh, sorry, you’re right, I’ll just suck it up and ignore the group of Lisa R.’s friends who just came in here and humiliated me in public for everyone to hear.”

“Literally no one else was in the store except for me and Y/N.”

“It’s the principle of it!” Steve exclaims. “Besides, that’s easy for you to say, coming from someone who doesn’t give a shit about anyone else’s opinions. And by the time you graduate, you’ll probably be well on your way out of Hawkins, on some kind of fancy nerd scholarship for being a multilingual, musically-talented band geek—”

You glance at your watch. “Shit. I have to go. My break’s over.”

Steve groans. “Don’t leave me here with just her, Y/N,” he says, jabbing his head toward Robin, who just sneers.

“Lighten up, dingus. You know you like being entertained by me.”

You throw your work cap back over your hair. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

The pair resume bickering without saying goodbye, but as you depart the parlor, you can’t help but glance back at Steve as he argues animatedly with Robin. He glances up at you for the briefest moment with those sad puppy eyes, and your stomach gives a little tug as a thought emerges:

You won’t be able to do much to restore King Steve Harrington’s reputation, but there is something you can do to help repair his ego.

————————————————

It’s a crazy thought—foolish, unhinged, and presumptuous—but it’s a thought you can’t stop thinking about for the whole day and most of your night. You really should just let it go, let Steve get over the whole Lisa R. thing and move on. But that single, crazy thought has completely permeated every inch of your mind.

The thought that you could teach Steve Harrington how to go down on a girl.

At first, the thought presented itself as a fantasy, more or less, that you kept replaying in your brain as the second half of your shift that day dragged on and on. Despite the knowledge that Steve was admittedly horrendously inexperienced, you found yourself fixated on the mental image of…of Steve perched in between your legs, his arms wrapped around your thighs, his mouth—

God, this needs to stop. I’m at work.

As the day progressed and you finally went home for the evening, the fantasy progresses, too, until it becomes less of a fantasy and more of a hypothetical notion. What if you did make a…proposition, for Steve? How would you even go about it? Hey, I know you mentioned the other day you were bad at oral sex, so why don’t you give it a go on me and I’ll give you some pointers? Gag. 

But would that really be such an outlandish proposal? Steve could certainly benefit from it, in more ways than one. He would gain experience, learn more about the elusive subtleties of the female body. In turn, he could mend his ego after such a disastrous experience with Lisa R. Not to mention, you realize with a laugh, you’d also be doing a service for all the girls to come after Lisa R., after you, by teaching him what it takes to pleasure a woman correctly. Plus, Steve’s a boy. You were basically offering him free, no-strings-attached sex. What’s not for him to like?

But were there really no strings attached? You’re not willing quite yet to fully consider that.

What would be in it for you? The obvious answer is, well…the deed itself. You’ve never actually come from a guy going down on you before, and frankly, you’re curious to know what it’s like. Assuming Steve did agree to practice going down on you, the obvious benefit to you as the recipient of said act was the potential for a world of pleasure. By Steve Harrington, no less, the boy you’ve been trying and failing to talk your way out of crushing on all summer. 

But Steve is your friend. If he went through with your proposition and didn’t succeed at repairing his ego (Worst Case Scenario #1)—or, worse, if he outright rejected your proposition altogether (Worst Case Scenario #2)—your friendship may never go back to the way it is now.

And all of it hinges greatly on one small detail: whether Steve could see you in that way, in a sexual way, or if his friendship with you is strictly platonic. The way things are now between the two of you, it’s hard to tell. He doesn’t act nervous or jittery around you the way he does around the cute girls who come into the ice cream parlor while he’s working. And while he’s always been friendly toward you, offering a lopsided smile nearly every time he sees you, it’s always been only that—just a smile. Not looking your body up and down, no sultry smirking, nothing glaringly obvious to indicate that he’s ever thought of you in that way. 

Despite all the potential ways for this to completely derail your friendship, your fantasy-turned-hypothetical-notion begins to morph into a plan. You decide you’ll test the waters with Steve, gauge his interest—both in you and in learning from you. The plan involves getting Steve to hang out with you after work, which is something you and he have only done once before. And it was with Robin, in which the three of you had picked out a movie from Family Video to watch at Robin’s parents’ home. Would Steve think it’s weird if you ask him to hang out after work?

If you never try, you’ll never know. 

The following day, you return to Scoops Ahoy once again on your shift break. Steve’s mopiness has evolved into a general aloofness toward his menial job, evidenced by the halfhearted way he wipes down the glass windows at the front of the store. 

Sitting at your favorite bench and licking the scoop of complimentary ice cream you’d haggled from Robin (in exchange for a free cookie at The Great Cookie), you watch Steve clean the windows, calculating your next words. As soon as Robin at the cash register finishes up with a transaction and disappears into the kitchen, you decide to make your move. 

“Alright, Steve, I’ve had enough of your moping,” you say lightheartedly. 

“I’m not moping,” he retorts.

You crumble up a napkin from the dispenser on the table and chuck it at his head. He finally looks over at you, miffed. “You are. At first I felt for you, but now it’s just downright pitiful the way you’re feeling bad for yourself. And annoying.”

“Well, excuse me for annoying you with my—with my very reasonable reaction to my reputation going to shit,” he whines. 

“Ah, yes,” you say, hopping out of your seat to pace nonchalantly behind him as you talk. “Your dear reputation. King Steve Harrington.” You pause, taking another lick of your ice cream. “Can’t have the womenfolk of Hawkins possibly thinking you’re bad at anything, now, can he?”

Steve has stopped cleaning the windows long enough to glare at you. But his eyes drop almost imperceptibly to your mouth as you eat your sweet treat. “Listen, I don’t expect you or Robin to get it,” Steve says defensively. “It’s just—yeah, okay, I care a bit about it, okay? So what? Sue me for caring about how I’m not everything I used to be.” With a huff, he turns back to the window, scrubbing it a little harder than necessary with the cleaning rag. “I used to be the Popular Steve Harrington. Used to have influence, friends. The Sports Star Steve Harrington. Now I’m just Washed Up Steve Harrington, forced by his dad to sling ice cream for three bucks an hour, no hope for the future—”

“Okay, I get it, your life’s a drag,” you cut him off. Clearly he’s got a chip on his shoulder that’s bigger than just the Lisa R. problem. ”But it doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?”

 “What I mean is, we gotta do something to cheer you up.” Steve watches you as you pluck another napkin from the dispenser and pull out a pen from the pocket of your work apron. You scribble down your address onto the napkin. “What do you say we hang out after our shifts are over, tonight? My parents are out of town. We can—we can order Pizza Hut, pop in a movie. And I’ll have some booze.” Luckily you have a good friend over the age of 21 who’d be able to hook you up with liquor.

“A party?”

“No, not a party, just two friends decompressing after a long day of work.” You glance toward the kitchen in the direction of Robin. “And maybe this can be a chance for you to get a little break from Robin… I can tell she gets under your skin sometimes.” You like hanging out with Robin, so you feel kind of bad about purposely excluding Robin, but Steve acts relieved. 

“You have no idea,” he laughs. “Alright. That sounds…that sounds nice.”

It’s a date, you think. But you just fold the napkin and approach Steve. You pull at the sailoresque collar of his work uniform and tuck the napkin against the skin of his chest, trying not to focus for too long on the dusting of chest hair. Or the way you feel sparks flying at the brush of your fingers against it. “Come by at 8?”

You weren’t positive how Steve was going to react to your proximity—you hadn’t ever gotten so close to him before. His shoulders tense, and he blinks about ten times in a second. “Y—yeah, sounds good, Y/N,” he chokes out. “I’ll stop by Family Video on the way out.”

You smile and leave him without another word to return to your job, and you can feel his gaze boring into the back of your head as you walk away. The napkin-in-the-collar move was unplanned. Was that too obvious? you wonder. Or not obvious enough?

So you turn to look back at him, just like yesterday. He’s still staring at you. You give him another coy smile, and he runs a nervous hand through his hair. 

Just right, you decide. 

————————————————

Your movie night with Steve was in full swing. You want to kick yourself for not taking action sooner to hang out with him outside of work. After four drinks (Bacardi and Cokes), a box of pizza (pepperoni), and an hour into your second movie (Fast Times at Ridgemont High), you and Steve were sufficiently drunk and happily laughing your asses off together. Laughing about the movie, about the funny things you’d seen at Starcourt Mall that week, about stupid memories from high school, about each other. 

The latest subject of your humor was a memory of the time Steve had been giving a speech at a pep rally his sophomore year and tripped directly over a band kid’s sousaphone. 

“You’re remembering it all wrong!” Steve groaned, throwing his hands up to his hair. 

“I think I’m remembering it perfectly clear,” you laugh, bumping your shoulder into his. You are seated next to Steve on your couch in front of the TV in your parents’ basement. Both your and Steve’s legs are resting on the small ottoman in front of the couch, your feet so close together they’re almost touching. They’d already brushed together a few times throughout the night; you can’t tell if it had been by accident or on purpose. “It was the end-of-semester pep rally, you were giving a motivational speech to the student body as the new ‘co-captain of the basketball team’,” —you sneer at him— “and you tripped directly over Helen Blackshaw’s big tuba.”

“No, no, no,” he retorts, sitting up straighter as if it would strengthen his argument. You thought it was hilarious. “First of all, it wasn’t the end-of-semester pep rally, it was the beginning-of-semester pep rally. And I wasn’t giving a motivational speech, I was running for class president. And lastly, I only tripped on Helen’s tuba because Joshua Gossman purposely pushed it in front of me. Remember Joshua? He had it out for me.”

You take another sip of your Coke-and-Bacardi and roll your eyes. “He had it out for you because you tried to flirt with his girlfriend, the flute player with the blond hair.”

“Okay, wow, like I would have ever flirted with a band geek, gross.”

“My recollection of you from high school would prove you wrong,” you jest. “You flirted with everyone.”

Except for you. You and Steve ran in different crowds and barely spoke, even when you were mutually friends with Tommy H. and Carol for a time. Even then, you and Steve hadn’t truly gotten to know each other until after graduation. Frankly, before you’d befriended the guy, you’d wanted nothing to do with him; you’d thought he was kind of a dick. You see now that he’s changed, for the better. But as disinterested as you’d been in King Steve Harrington, he’d been equally as disinterested in you.

Your heart sinks a bit. What if Steve truly had never thought of you as anything other than friends…never found you attractive, never found himself ever secretly wondering about you in bed, nothing remotely romantic or sexual in the slightest?

“Oh, come on, not everyone,” Steve says, pouring himself another drink. It looks more like a cup of straight rum with a tiny splash of coke. 

“If it moved and had boobs, you flirted. Band geeks notwithstanding.”

Maybe you were imagining it, but he seems to glance down from your face for only the briefest second—to your chest. Oop. “Yeah, well, not like it matters anymore. I was a different person back then. Way cooler to the ladies than I am now.”

“Steve.” You sit up as straight as he’s sitting and give him a level glare. “You talk about yourself like you’re some kind of…shell of who you used to be. It wasn’t that long ago.” His face contorts, so you quickly add, “I didn’t mean that as an insult. I just mean, I don’t think you’re washed up just because you work at an ice cream shop, or because you’re not going to Tech next year.”

Steve furrows his brows. “Right…I’m washed up because everyone thinks I’m bad in bed.”

“Does it matter what they think?”

“You sound like Robin, now.”

“But do you really care, though?”

“Well, yeah, I’d like to go to work without pissing my pants every time a group of girls comes in, ‘cause I’m worried that they’re gonna publically call me out for being a bad lover.”

“Ignore the girls,” you say with an encouraging shove to his arm. “They’re jerks.“

“They’re jerks,” Steve agrees. But he’s still frowning. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

Steve sighs. “Well…I guess it doesn’t really matter what the rumors say. But… it does bug me that I wasn’t good at…you know. That I left someone feeling disappointed.”

Ah. Bingo. You hadn’t been sure where this conversation was going. But now that you’re here, right on topic, you feel confident about segueing into your proposition. 

Except, in the heat of the moment, your heart starting to race with nervousness, you fail entirely to achieve a smooth transition. “What if you got someone to teach you?” you blurt. 

Steve laughs. “What?”

“I mean—” you stammer. Fuck. “I just mean, if you wanted to get better at…at that part of hooking up, maybe you should find someone who could teach you how to do it.”

Steve raises his eyebrows as he considers. “I dunno,” he says. “I mean, who could I even ask? I’m not really friends with any guys from school anymore who talk about those kind of things. Maybe Tommy H., but fuck that guy. Jesus, my only friends now are literally children, and I can’t talk to Henderson about that, that’d be really gross and probably illegal—”

“No, you dumbass,” you say, forcing out a chuckle to give the illusion of casualness. “Not a guy.”

He looks at you like you’re insane. “What, then? A girl? You think I should ask another girl about…that?” He shakes his head. “No. Absolutely not. I will not humiliate myself like that. Why would I do that if I could just, I don’t know, go to an adult store and pick up a pamphlet and watch a porno or something?”

You crinkle your nose. “Those movies are so unrealistic. Besides…that’s not what I mean.” 

“A girl? Really? Who would I even ask for advice about that? Robin? You?”

You tilt your head at him, unblinking, urging him to understand. He stares back with a blank expression. In a blink, realization floods his face. 

“Oh.” 

Steve says nothing more, just stares at you with wide brown eyes. A long moment passes. You think your heart might explode. 

At last, Steve shifts uncomfortably and says, “Are you saying that you…that you’d…”

“I’m saying maybe I could teach you.” You finish his sentence with words so soft they’re nearly imperceptible over the noise of the movie on the television you both had entirely forgotten about. Saying it aloud sounded so stupid now. How could you teach someone to go down on you when you’ve never even had success before with anyone else in the first place? You were probably the worst pick for Steve’s teacher. 

Steve is reduced to silence again, a baffled expression etched permanently on his face. He tries to inhale, but his breath seems to get caught in his throat. 

You can feel the flood of words filling your brain, your mouth, and finally spilling over your tongue. “But just as friends, nothing more,” you gush. “I was just thinking, maybe it’d help if you had someone who could help give you advice, tell you what works and what doesn’t. Someone you trust, who could get practice with. As, y’know, friends.”

No response. You start to get anxious. “You know what—never mind,” you gabble, starting to stand up. “I shouldn’t have said that. That was really stupid of me.” Of course Steve wouldn’t agree to this. You were delusional. “Forget I ever said anything—”

“Wait, wait, Y/N.” Steve grabs your wrist before you can stand up from the couch. “Slow down. Just…let me try to understand what you’re saying.” You hesitate, but after a moment you relax into his touch and settle on the couch again. Steve hasn’t looked away from you, and you turn your head to meet his gaze and can’t look away. “You’re saying you’d want me to…practice…with you?”

“If you want,” you whisper. 

Steve looks dumbfounded. He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it. Suddenly, you become very, very nervous. More nervous than you’ve ever been with any guy. “Why?” he finally asks. 

“Why what?”

“Why would you want to let me…” He doesn’t finish his thought, just running his hands through his rugged hair again. Then he speaks again suddenly, stammering over his words. “I-I don’t get it. Why would you want me to practice on you? I don’t have any experience, Y/N. Aren’t you worried that it wouldn’t be good, for you?”

You remind yourself to stop chewing on your cheek before it bleeds. “I mean, isn’t that the point? You’re inexperienced, so you could get the practice you need to get good.”

“Get practice…with you. On you.” Steve doesn’t even hide it now, the way he looks down at your body. But it’s not with desire, or eagerness. Panic floods his features. “Y/N, I don’t know…”

“I just thought maybe I could help you,” you say, words coming out in a rush again. “It's just, I just saw how upset you were about what happened with Lisa R. and everything and I thought—I dunno, Steve, she seems like an asshole, she seems like the worst kind of person to do that with for the first time. And you deserve to have someone who talks to you and communicates, who can help you figure it out.” You have to pause to suck in a breath. “And I guess I was just thinking that person could be…me.”

As you say the words, his whole body seems to have tensed up. “Um, I…” he stutters and glances around the room. And suddenly, he jolts up on his feet. “Listen, Y/N. I don’t think—I don’t think I can do that. Not with…you.” 

Your skin burns with heat. “Oh…Oh. That’s okay, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s not that you’re—” he says at the same time, but you’re talking over each other, and you both stop talking simultaneously. A static tension fills the space between you. When you say nothing, he points to the door and frowns apologetically at you. “I gotta—I gotta go, Y/N.”

“Oh—yeah, no, I get it,” you say, feigning nonchalance. You get up, too, and walk with Steve up the basement stairs without another word. The tension in the room is stagnant and unbearable.

When you and Steve reach your front door, he turns to look in your direction but doesn’t meet your eyes. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t even worry about it,” you cut him off, waving a hand. “Forget I ever said anything?”

“I…” One look at Steve, and you know he’s not going to forget about this anytime soon. Fuck. Worst Case Scenario #2 just came true. But at last, he replies, “Yeah, no, of course.”

“Are you good to drive?” you ask, referring to the alcohol.

“Oh yeah, I’m good.”

“See you tomorrow at Starcourt?” You offer him a small smile.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

As the door shuts behind him, your parents’ house has never felt so silent and empty. You squeeze your eyes shut and stand there by the front door for a long time until you feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins finally dissipate enough to move. 

Well, that was a fucking disaster.

There’s not much to do but clean up the basement and get ready for bed, even though it’s only 10:30. Your parents won’t be back until the morning, so you would have stayed up and enjoyed having the house to yourself for the night. But you don’t feel like doing anything but lie in the fetal position in your bed for a long time to mentally chastise yourself for forever ruining your friendship with Steve. 

You clean up downstairs, shower, and brush your teeth in a daze. But just as your head hits the pillow, a gentle knock sounds from the front door.

On high alert, you peer out of your room and sneak down the stairs. You’d never usually answer the door this late at night while home alone, but something tells you to go look through the peephole.

It’s Steve.

His eyes widen at the sight of you in your pajamas as you swing open the front door. “Steve?” you ask.

“Sorry, I know it’s late,” he says. His long hair is somehow even more mussed than usual, indicating just how much he must have been running his hand through it in the past hour. “It’s just…”

You squint against the porch light. “What is it?”

He hesitates again, but finally says, “Just as friends, right?”

He’s referring to your proposition. “Just friends,” you reassure him breathlessly.

“Good. I’ve…thought about it.” For the first time since you’ve known him, Steve’s eyes rake over your body with a new emotion behind them: lust. “I’m down.”

Author's Note: Howdy! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my fanfic "Put It To Practice" 😌 This is a big deal for me, as it is my first full-length fanfic in over two years! My name is Juniper and I'm thrilled to be here in the Stranger Things fandom. I'm trying to meet more of you and make some new friends. So I'd love it if you could give me a follow and reach out to say 'hello' via my ask box!

I'm excited to publish the next segment of "Put It To Practice" for you all. I write fanfiction for free; and my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it's simply a "Wow, I loved it!", a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

If you wish to be tagged in the next part, please let me know via my ask box!

Much love ❤︎, Juniper

NEXT CHAPTER

[slutsssphobia]

May I request a sub! mitsuri smut with milf! reader?

Yay another mitsuri request 🥺💖💖

Warnings!: Sub!mitsuri,milf!reader, fingering,semi-public sex,praising.

Tags!: None!

A/n: (d/n) daughter name just to let you know <3also mitsuri and (d/n )are in college (19) proper age.

"come on mitsuri!"(d/n) called out to her friend racing down the stairs in a rush. "S-so sorry! Those stairs can be the death of me sometimes!" Mitsuri replied out of breath. School was now over, the plan was to return to (d/n) to finish the homework that was assigned. The two girls raced to get home when the rain hit quicker than expected.

They finally made it to (d/n) house and set their bookbags down when you walked over to the living room to greet them. "Well hello mitsuri nice to see you again!" You shook Mitsuri's hand with a warm smile. Mitsuri couldn't help but look at your chest. She stole a couple gazes before returning the arm welcome. Her cheeks were pink as you turned back to continue the dishes.

"let's go to the kitchen table" (d/n) suggested as she grabbed their homework from her bag. Mitsuri nodded and took a seat on one of the cushions that lay on the floor. You walked over and set a bowl of onigiri on the table. "Help yourself to a few!" You offered the girls. Mitsuri grabbed one and started munching away. "Thank you miss (L/N)!" She said her cheeks were stuffed with onigiri. She warmly smiled as the taste hit her mouth.

You smiled to yourself and bit the side of your cheek, you couldn't help but notice how her shirt held her breasts snug tight. You snapped out your thoughts forgetting about the still unwashed dishes.

"I have to use the restroom can you finish it off for us?" (D/n said rising from her seat. "Yeah no problem!" Mitsuri chirped as took another bite of her third onigiri.

Mitsuri had seemed to be stuck on a question for quite a while you walked over and bent down a bit looking over the question. "a2 – b2 = (a – b)(a + b)..." You slid your hand to mitsuri's thigh slowly. She blushed as you reached the fabric of her panties.

"now don't get distracted.." you pointed at the paper and looked straight at her. "I'll give you a reward if you get this right.." you whispered in her ear barely touching her lobe. You slid past the thin lace and ran a finger up her slick. "I-its equal to-" she let out a small squeak as you stuck one of your digits inside her. "Go on baby I know you can do it.." you whispered once more as she became more slick from just your words.

This went on for about 4 more questions until mitsuri's body gave up and she released right on your fingers. "You did such a good job baby! And look now your homework is done" you patted her back. She quickly straddled you and kissed your soft lips. She couldn't help it anymore she needed more of your touch.

You moaned in the kiss which made her pussy twitch. You heard the bathroom door unlock and sat mitsuri down sliding her panties back up. You raced to the sink and pretended to do something. "Back!"

(d/n) called as she returned. Mitsuri took one last glance at you noticing you lick your fingers.

My second? Mitsuri request ☺️🙌

Ty for requesting dear!

[piggyjeans]

Heyyy can u do one when Ellie is sad that she has no parents and ryley comforts her and then they cuddle uwu fluff 🥺🥺🥺🥺 and then whatever you’d like?

Not going anywhere (drabble request)

Request by: my best friend hagridbiddie :D

Pairings: ellie and ryley! Comfort + angst + fluff + them being gay besties ;)

Warnings: Ellie’s and Riley’s mom is dead :P

(A/n) MY BEST FRIEND CHALLENGED ME TO WRITE THIS IN THIRTY MINUYES AND I FAILED IT WAS MORE LIKE FORTY FIVE SO ITS SHORT AND I DIDNT PROOF READ BUT I THINK ITS KINDS CUYE MERP LOL SEND ME MKRE REQUESTS PLEASE BECAUSE THIS IS MY CALLING ACTUALLY IM GONAN QUIT MY JOB AND BECOME. AFULL TIME THE LAST OF US FANFIC WRITER

As Riley is sitting in her bed working on homework, she sees Ellie click her lamp off as she does every night. Riley continues to scribble away at answers in her notebook. Usually at night leading up to lights out, while Ellie and Riley are doing their homework or just hanging out in their bedroom, they’re having distant conversations. Little sentences here and there, questions and answers between the two continue on long into the night, but tonight something was off. Riley didn’t really know what was wrong, but Ellie just seemed in a weird mood. Her go lucky attitude wasn’t there, she wasn’t playful or joking or laughing at everything like she usually did.

While Riley is erasing her writing, she hears Ellie sniffle.

She stops what she’s doing immediately. That couldn’t be Ellie… crying? Right? Ellie never cries.

And then Riley hears another sniffle. Her heart drops. She quietly spins her chair around to view Ellie’s small figure facing the wall silently. She’s not reading like she usually does, she doesn’t have her Walkman going, she’s not focused on anything. She’s just sitting in silence. Riley is immediately concerned.

“Ellie,” Riley quietly says into the darkness. Ellie doesn’t register her talking to her at first, too caught up in her own head. She’s never gone this deep into her thoughts, and it’s a lot to process for the fourteen year old girl. “Ellie?”

Suddenly Ellie snaps out of it, quickly wiping her nose and damp cheeks with the sleeve of her hoodie. She turns around quickly, lifting herself up on her hands. “Yeah?”

She doesn’t mean for her voice to break, but she hasn’t used it much today. She usually talks much more, her voice isn’t used to resting. And also the tears coming out of Ellie’s eyes has something to do with it.

“Are you… okay?” Riley asks awkwardly. She doesn’t have a lot of deep conversations with Ellie and she doesn’t want to mess anything up with her best friend. She doesn’t want to over step and she knows Ellie can he stubborn. She just wants to help but she doesn’t know how to do this.

“Of course,” ellie says, trying to act as normal as possible. She’s planning on denying being upset at any cost. She doesn’t even know why she’s upset at anything. Nothing big or important really happened recently. It’s just all coming back to her for some reason.

“Ellie, What’s wrong?”

Ellie laughs softly, “what’s wrong with you,” she says in a sarcastic voice. Trying to play it all off, but Riley knows her best friend more than anyone else in this world. She knows she’s lying, and she’s known something was off since the second she walked into their dorm.

“Seriously, ellie. Come on,” Riley walks over to Ellie’s bed and sits on the edge of it. “You can’t lie to me. I know you too well,” she says softly, reaching over to put her hand on Ellie’s leg. Ellie defensively curls her legs up to her chest, denying the comfort that Riley is trying to offer her.

With the light radiating off of Riley’s desk lamp, she can see Ellie’s eyes fill up with tears once more. She shakes her head trying to get rid of the tears that cloud her vision, but they won’t go away. She puts her head down into her lap and lets them fall.

Ellie feels so humiliated that she’s crying in front of her best friend. She always tries to be strong, and it’s so stupid that she’s crying over something that happens so long ago. But she can’t help crying and she’s dug herself into this hole when she let herself feel these emotions in the first place.

“I never got to mourn my mom,” ellie says in a whisper so quiet Riley almost has to ask her to repeat herself. But when she registers what Ellie says, it takes everything in her to not let her eyes fill up with tears too. Her stomach twists and she feels sick for her friend who she loves so much. She doesn’t ever want her to feel these emotions, and even worse, Riley feels awful that she knows how Ellie feels. She wishes they both could just have normal happy lives, but that’s unfortunately not the way things worked out for either of them.

Riley doesn’t say anything at first, just climbing up to sit herself next to Ellie. Putting her arm around her shoulder and looking her into the eyes. She brushes the fly always falling out of her ponytail behind her ears, and smiles at how beautiful she finds her. She feels all the love in the world for her and it’s a confusing but a beautiful feeling.

“It’s okay, ellie. We have all the time in the world,” Riley says, resting her head on top of Ellie’s. “I’ll always be here for you. You’ll always have my shoulder to cry on,” Riley says.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

-

The last of us Taglist: @hagridbiddie (lmk if u wanna be added!)

[between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place]

congrats on your fic-a-versay!! your writing is amazing, i love to read your interpretations of the boys 🥺💞

request for this event: prewar (and either steve or bucky is trans ?? if you'd be ok with that?) and the lyric "I would go out tonight but I haven't got a stitch to wear / This man said, "It's gruesome that someone so handsome should care" (the song is This Charming Man by the Smiths and it's such a good prewar stevebucky song ;; ) /t4tstevebucky 🌟

Thank youu!!! 💚💚💚 Gaah, I do hope you'll like this one. It only got away from me a *cough* little bit. (If you were trying to drop me into a research rabbit-hole you did a great job 😅)

East Coast Swing, 2k words, rated T

Read it on AO3 or under the cut

one-and-two

“Come out with me tonight.”

“Bucky, don’t be stupid.”

⁕

“So there’s this girl up at the offices who was askin’ if we could—”

“Absolutely not.”

three-and-four

“Ste-vie—”

“No.”

“You didn’t even know what I was gonna ask.”

“Still no.”

⁕

“Please?”

“Quit it, Buck.”

Bucky pulled out the second chair and straddled it with his elbows resting on the table. If Steve looked up he’d no doubt see him batting his eyelashes. (They were longer and thicker than any girl’s he’d seen, which wasn’t really fair any way you looked at it.)

“I found a place I think you’d really like. There’re some people who’d love to meet ya.”

Steve held back a snort. He flexed his aching wrist and dipped his brush again, sliding off the excess on the edge of the cup. The tip of his tongue flicked out as he angled the hairs just right, keeping a steady hand while he filled in the black shading on the letters. 

He pulled back and studied his work. Not perfect, but it would have to do. He didn’t have time to start over, Mr. Martin was going to dock his pay if he didn’t have the lot done by Sunday.

Bucky cleared his throat, then acted all wide-eyed and innocent when Steve glanced up and fixed him with a glare. It was annoyingly endearing. Steve bit the inside of his cheek.

“I’ve got commissions to finish.” He grabbed the stained rag from beside Bucky’s hand. “Now stop whining and make yourself useful, I ain’t darning your stinkin’ socks for you.”

five, six

“Look.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to five. “Even if I wanted to be dragged off to some of your bars, it’s not like I got anythin’ to wear.”

He waved his arms to illustrate his point, shirt cuffs flapping over his hands. The shirt, like most of his clothing, had been Bucky’s, patched and hemmed and taken in to fit him passably. They served him well enough for everyday use. (He preferred it, to be truthful, being able to sink into shapeless shoulders and too-long sleeves and disappear from view on the crowded train.)

Oddly enough, his completely valid argument didn’t seem to deter Bucky, rather the opposite. He perked up and beamed at Steve over his plate of mushy beans.

“That it? Why didn’t you say so to start with? I’ll take care of it.” He patted Steve on the cheek and shoved another forkful into his mouth.

“No, that’s not what I—”

beat

It had been Bucky’s idea. That god-awful spring when Steve had just buried his mother and was about to be kicked out of the tenement because their landlord was a heartless bastard.

“Just two bachelors rooming together to save on rent. No one will question it.”

Steve was standing on the front steps, shivering under a borrowed coat, socks and shoes soaked through by the neverending rain that flooded the gutters. He swallowed, a mixture of dread and sick hope churning in his stomach. “What if they do? What if someone says something?”

“Then we go somewhere else. Plenty of rooms in the city.” Bucky shrugged, like that was nothing. “But they won’t, trust me. It’ll be fine.”

The last scraps of his pride had forced him to hold his ground for a bit longer. “I can get by on my own.” 

The sigh Bucky let out was mostly fond. His hand was an anchoring weight on Steve’s shoulder, warming him through damp layers. Today his eyes were slate-gray like the sky. “Thing is, you don’t have to.”

right turn

There was a pile of new clothes on the bed. Almost new. But still in better condition than anything Steve owned. 

“For my best guy,” Bucky had said as he dumped them in Steve’s lap without ceremony—no wink or cheeky grin to accompany it.

Steve stroked his hand over the striped wool of the suit jacket. It was soft but sturdy and seemed like it might be close to his size. He wondered what it would look like on him, if it would make his shoulders look broader and hide the way his spine was curved.

Then he put it down on the pile. “You shoulda spent your money on something useful.”

“Come on, Stevie. What's it gonna take with you?” Bucky let himself drop back on the bed, springs creaking under his weight. “I wanna dance.”

“So go dance. Take that girl, what’s her face. Don’t know why you keep buggin’ me for.” He dipped his hands back into the sudsy water.

Bucky sat up on the bed and watched him. 

Steve kept his head down and scrubbed at a stubborn stain—a bit too vigorously. He prodded at the raw skin on his knuckles and cursed under his breath.

Bucky still didn’t say anything.

“What?” Steve snapped.

Bucky cast his eyes down and fiddled with the hem of the blanket.

“What is it?” Steve asked, voice softer this time. The soap stung his scraped hand.

“Just ... wanted to dance with you. Is all.”

beat

“Hey, Stevie.” 

Bucky’s speech was a bit slurred, the words coming out of his mouth sticky and slow like molasses. He was draped over the bed with his suspenders pulled down and half the buttons of his shirt undone; underneath, the contours of his body, lean and powerful, chest flat and hard from hours in the boxing gym.

“Yeah?”

“Do—you don’t mind that I call you that?”

“... no. Why would I?”

In fact, Steve hadn’t really thought about it.

He handed him the glass filled with water. Their fingers brushed. Bucky’s skin was hot. There were tracks of dried sweat along his temples. He smelled like booze, stale cigarettes, and too-strong perfume that made Steve’s throat itch.

Bucky brought the glass to his mouth and squinted at him. “‘Cause I can stop if ya want. Just gotta say the word.”

Steve shrugged. “It's fine, honestly. Thanks for asking though.”

Bucky smiled dopily at him. “Anything for my best guy.” He straightened up and put the glass down on their wobbly nightstand. “C’mere.” He patted the mattress beside him.

Steve sat down. With the way Bucky was sprawled their legs were almost touching. The room was hot, the muggy August heat only tempering once the sun set. Steve’s palms were clammy. He rubbed them on his trousers.

Bucky’s hand came to rest on top of his.

“You know you’re my best guy, right?” he half-whispered in that way drunk people do.

“Sure do, Buck.” Steve forced a smile. “And you’re my best friend too.” Not like there was much competition for that spot, but it was true either way.

Bucky’s brows did a complicated dance move, settling on a frown.

“No, I meant like …”

His thumb was rubbing the top of Steve’s hand, tracing the tendons. Then his fingers traveled up Steve’s arm like they were explorers hiking a mountain. The furrow between his brow deepened, focus honed in like when he was fiddling with some new piece of machinery, trying to figure out what made it tick.

“Bucky, wha—”

The rest of his sentence was swallowed up.

By Bucky.

Because Bucky’s lips were on his.

Bucky’s hand was on his neck, thumb pressing into his jaw.

His breath was sour; his lips burned like that split-second between touching a hot plate and pulling your hand away.

Steve gasped.

Bucky stumbled off the bed, away from him, wide-eyed and frantic. 

“Shit. ‘m sorry, I didn’t—”

“You kissed me.” Steve touched a finger to his still-tingling lips.

“Yeah.” Bucky stood frozen at the other side of the room, back pressed to the wall like he wanted to sink into the cracks between the boards. “I’m sorry.”

“You ...”

Steve forgot what he was about to say. He rose from the bed and crossed the floor to Bucky, who flinched like he thought Steve was going to hit him.

Steve lifted his hand and touched the tip of his finger to his lower lip. He needed to see if it would burn him

—if it would hurt the way his heart sometimes did when he looked at Bucky, sitting on the fire escape beside him, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, smoke curling around his gilded face, tilted up to meet the last rays of evening sun.

It didn’t. It hurt in a different way. Perhaps the same way that made Bucky screw his eyes shut and clench his jaw.

“Can I?”

Eyes closed, Bucky nodded.

Steve kissed him.

left turn

“Buck …” Steve sighed. “You know that’s not gonna—”

“I said I know a place,” Bucky interrupted. “Will you just trust me?”

beat

“I could be a girl. If—if you wanted me to.” Steve showed his hands in his pockets so Bucky wouldn’t see they were shaking and he squared his shoulders.

“What?”

Bucky stared at him. 

“It’d be easier, right? If I was. We could, like, do things the proper way.” 

Get married, have a family.

(wear a dress and a meek smile and lower your voice)

He stuck his chin out. “Not—not hide away here.”

Bucky wouldn’t have to come home on Fridays after visiting his parents with a storm cloud over his head and a dozen probing questions ringing in his ears; when was he going to settle down, he knew he was the oldest, supposed to set an example, didn’t he want something less temporary now that he’d gotten foreman duties at the factory —Steve had heard every variation muttered under his breath as Bucky scrubbed their chipped plates with angry efficiency.

A series of emotions flashed over Bucky’s face.

“I don’t like girls,” he said gruffly, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes.

“Oh.” The fight Steve had prepared for trickled out of him. “But then—but I’m—”

“Not a girl. So I don’t know why you’d wanna pretend to be one.” Bucky pushed past him and braced his hands on the window ledge, looking out over the street.

“I thought—We have it good like this, don’t we?”

Steve watched the rigid line of his shoulders. “Yeah, Buck, we do.”

“Then fuck ‘em."

one-and-two, three-and-four

The room was loud and smoky and dimly lit. Steve had to blink a handful of times before he could make out more than the contours of people.

It was smaller than he expected, a bar lining one short side and a row of booths filling up the other. There were people everywhere, milling about, sitting by the tables, talking, a few of them dancing. 

All kinds of people.

The person that closed the door behind them was wearing men’s trousers and a leather jacket. A curvy—woman—with a feather boa and a mane of blonde curls was sitting behind a piano on a small, raised stage.

Steve pulled his mouth shut and tried not to stare as he took it all in. He’d had no idea there was a place like this in their part of Brooklyn.

A hand wrapped around his wrist. Steve looked up.

“Told ya.” Bucky grinned at him. “Now let’s dance. I’ll let you lead, if you promise not to step on me.”

“I think you oughta buy me a drink first.”

five

“Don’t know why you’d care what you wear.” Bucky’s hand rested on Steve’s waist, light and steady, his breath brushing over Steve’s cheek. “You’re the prettiest face in this place.” Bucky shifted his grip and spun them around in a tight circle.

Steve grimaced and missed his step. “‘m not pretty. ” He considered stomping on Bucky’s feet, which he’d so far avoided, just for that.

Bucky reeled him back in and grabbed his chin with two fingers. “Punk. Listen up. I swear there’s not a soul in here that isn’t jealous I’m the one that gets to dance with you.” His grip softened and so did his eyes. “Handsomest guy I ever saw.”

Steve’s face burned brighter than the glittering dresses of the queens standing over by the bar. “Shut up.” He punched Bucky in the shoulder. 

six

“Wait here a second.”

“What are you—”

“...”

“Bucky. Somebody could see us.”

“Nah. It’s dark. And we’ll hear if someone comes.”

“But—”

“Can’t I kiss you goodnight?”

“No.”

“Aw, sweetheart.”

“... but you could take me home.”

“Steve.”

“...”

[music-my-beloved]

With The Beatles: A 16yo's (horrible) album review pt.2 !!

It Won't Be Long 🚆: Erm, the guitar is just *mwah* chef's kiss it really carries the song, she's the backbone. She's like, duh do do duh do and it's so cute. The background vocals are eating so good !! This song I think was the most prominent to me because I remember it from Across the Universe (incredible movie btw) . Really love this song, she's like a sister to me.

All I've Gotta Do !: Honestly would have done numbers in the 2010s because I feel like it has really good "call and response" potential !! Like, uh that one song,,,, I can't remember uhh oh Ain't No Mountain High Enough . I know I keep saying this but this song IS cute ! Also so far I've noticed they're utilizing back up vocals more which is much appreciated, I hope I hear it in the rest of the tracks on this album.

All My Loving 💗: Yay! More background vocals !! I go feral for them. The guitar is also SO good. If It Won't Be Long is a sister to me this song is my brother. Heard this one a lot growing up as well. Background vocals are heavenly the little , "ooooooos" in the background are so dreamy !!

Don't Bother Me 😔: okay first initial listen it reminded me of when my I would lose my mom in the store 😭😭 my forever "lost mom in the store" anthem !! Uhm, didn't quite jive with the rhythm but that's alright !! But it is a good song!! The dude's a little bit too dependent on that lady maybe her leaving was a good thing ??? idk I'm only guessing 😭

Little Child 🚸: uhm, I'm scared. girl they're gonna catch a case !! If a grown men in their 20s sang this to me I'd be like ,"Oh okay I'm gonna groove with y'all 'cause the beat is funky but the lyrics are concerning so idk might wanna work on that"

Till There Was You 🫵: oh. em. gee. La Vie En Rose who???? Girl this song is swoonworthy !! If a guy was like, "I used to never hear the birds singing before I met you, now that's all I hear" I'd cry OMG 😭😭 also it's just paul singing and like, omg it's so simple but it's simplicity totally makes it amazing !! It feels more personal that way !!! EDIT: OMG IM INJECTING THIS IN MY BLOODSTREAM!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's so amazingly awesome oh em gee I'm actually addicted it's not funny ! Oh my god I'm gonna explode!! Dopamine is real and I'm experiencing the effects, the world beautiful again !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Please Mister Postman ✉️: this is a pretty good cover. Background vocals are once again in the spotlight they're just too good. The iconic beatles sound really starts to take shape in this album I've noticed !! Ringo did a good job on drums too !! Total rock and roll vibe. I was gonna compare it to another band it felt weird because it's like saying the parent sounds like the child and like no wdym the kid sounds like the parent !! I forget how much The Beatles really pioneered music !!!

Roll Over Beethoven 🎹: whaaaaa. man this track was a doozy ! They're cocky and it's workin'. Totally can see enthusiastic young couples totally jammin' to this it's so great ! Really loved the energy !!! Also that guitar solo is the beginning was AMAZEBALLS

Hold Me Tight 🥺: Whoa. This song is my second sister. This track was THE song at the beginning of my Beatles beginning when I was but a wee little girl lolll it's just so addictive. Makes me bop my head and smile everytime I hear it. The endorphins swarmed this one guys sorry 😔

You Really Got A Hold On Me 💕: Contradictions left and right !! Rhythm was a gentle little ebb and flow that was kinda refreshing to hear !! Liked the song.

I Wanna Be Your Man ♂️: whoa. Straightforward!! Some girls might like that in a man but uhm, idk the chanting of "I wanna be your man, I wanna be your lover" with the stark black and white of their faces on the album cover got me scared 😭😭 idk it was nightmare fuel I felt like someone was watching me. Uh but overall it was a high energy song maybe a bit too high energy for me 'cause I'm tired while writing this review but it wasn't really my preferred choice in music but I totally see me liking it like, a month from now !!

Devil In Her Heart ❤️: Maracas ?? 🤨whaarrrrr but uhm this one just felt like another song honestly. As I'm writing this review it's like, my 10th listen in the span of 3 days she's just not clicking 😭😭

Not A Second Time ⏰: Honestly the first few listens she felt bland like unseasoned chicken but now that I'm really listening it's got a simple little jive to her and I'm here for it !! It's got these vocal runs that I don't think I've heard before it's so unique!! Overall really liked her.

Money 💰: uh pink floyd who ???? But seriously this song rocks. Not the catchiest but it's true, she's REAL. I need MONEY

More album reviews on the way, next up: A Hard Days Night...

[cloutchaserkineme]

law student lip service

Feb. 19, 2024 8:11 PM on a Monday, at home.

"Law school is so hard. I don't like law."

These are words I uttered every day as honestly as a Sagittarius rising could, which is extremely. I thought that I was in good company, given that every day I communicate with my fellow law classmates the conversation is a wheel of pain validation-

😔 I'm suffering every day 😭🥺 I have no time for myself let alone for the outside world, or my hobbies 😰 it's a miserable existence!

Reader, they are fucking lying. They don't hate law school as much as they claim to be, nor are they as tired of its workload as much as they make it seem!

They're all fucking liars and masochists who chose, as willing as a cat chasing a juicy lizard escaping through the pet door, to go through the rigor of the law-school-double-drum-roller every day. Members of a twisted underground movement subtly dressing to signal their intentions- some with collared shirts and bags big enough to pack a Macbook and a codal, some who wear a suit 16 hours of the day from work until evening classes. They are Catholics of a new sect, prostrating and harming themselves in the name of their god, which is the Constitution.

I thought I was complaining in solidarity with my fellow Mediocre Marys, who stumbled into the enrollment process out of reflex, and are now stumped by the real, material difficult of learning and absorbing such an important instrument to our society.

By my own hand, I am once again in exile. I am really, truly bitching out here because I'm the only one (in our batch at least) who went to law school not for the love of law.

And I know I'm the only one- my siblings in Common Sense have already chosen not to re-enroll for the second semester, or at least had enough brain cells that were sparking that day in the registrar's office and chose to only go to law school part time.

There's two major reasons why I stay, and one is because I am a racehorse. Skills that I have accumulated over the course of my young lifetime have primed me to be Very Good at the necessities of surviving the daily tasks of school, and Very Shit at any other path in life.

I read fast, which means I know a lot and have poor eyesight. I speak and understand English almost instinctively, at the cost of my losing fluency at my mother tongue and being witty, funny, and understandable to my peers. I am better at citing research than most people my age, and asking the right questions to get the answer I needed for the last piece of the write-up.

I am very well-suited for the track, but like all racehorses, this is the only place I have ever known. Anything outside my comfort zone will be incredibly harmful, that it would be stupid of me to not do it, to not continue grad school, stupid to not enroll in law school and put my mind and my skills to use to bloom like a good plant from my home garden.

I am good at Law, the same way a falcon is good at spotting prey from a mile away, the same way a suture needle is best for dressing wounds, the same way I know to remember the dates and when to give flowers and how to court a jealous mistress. I am good at it, and I am interested in being effective, but I don't feel a big passion for it.

The Law and its intricacies does not swallow me up like a burning sun the way it does the acolytes I call my classmates. I don't have a righteous cause, or a burning curiosity, or an endless pocket of wealth that allows me to explore things on a whim. I'm just here. And every time I fail at Being a Law Student I feel like a changeling taking someone else's place, living in fear that one day, the college secretary will telepathically hear me complaining and moaning about The Law, and she'll tell me in the same tone that Stanley Tucci used to tell Anne Hathaway, "I could get another girl to fill your job in five minutes. Someone who really wants it."

Quitting is not an option either. The other major thing is, while I might not like law school, the person I love the most in this lifetime is paying for my education when she doesn't need to, or has to.

This amazing horse-breeder, with her casual course corrections like spurs, the warm food she makes, the hugs in every new and updated law book volumes she buys for me, the Scorpionic bow to my Sagittarian arrow, the Virgo maiden conditioning the lazy Lion.

I love her enough that I will go through this muck full of unnecessarily long words and tax documents, surrounded by caffeine and memory supplement addicts who get off of correcting other people's grammar so much I wanted to send Merriam-Webster a link to making an OnlyFans account to cash in on their horniness, and putting hypothetical people into such convoluted, imaginary situations for the benefit of The Law- for the next few years, and to come out a lawyer.

I might not have a cause, but I do have a mom. And I'll be damned if I ever let anyone, especially me, crush my mom's dreams.

I just hope I have enough staying power in me for a few more rounds around the track.

(30) 8:40 PM the same day.

[f10werfae]

Hello 🤗! I’m so so sorry to ask you, but could I bother for another request pretty please and I’m also asking with my best puppy eyes? 🥺🥺

I was thinking one where the reader is supposed to interview Henry (it could about The Witcher season 2), but is so engrossed with Kal and playing with him and cooing at him and just really wants to keep playing with him.

Thank you so so much and happy holidays!! 🎄😘🎄😘🎄

For Kal, of course ☁️

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Interviewer! Reader

Word count: 1,021

Fluff

Summary: Henry falls head over heels for someone, over his dog??

Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰ ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Looking in the mirror of my dressing room I fixed the collar of my white button down, making sure it was properly tucked into my jeans. The nerves started bubbling up inside me, looking down at the flashcards on my lap full of questions I was meant to ask Henry Cavill.

This was my first major job as an interviewer, with such a big movie star as well, not to mention my own celebrity crush. I practiced my lines constantly last night in bed, really hoping I wouldn’t mess up today or else I would actually die.

“Y/n, Mr.Cavill is here ready to be interviewed” I heard my supervisor say outside of the room.

'Ok Y/n, you got this, just be yourself and follow the script'

Standing up giving myself one last checkover, I headed out to the curtain covered interview room, the poster of 'The Witcher' covering the backdrop.

When I finally made contact with the one and only Henry Cavill, for a second I felt my body freeze. Putting my hand out for a handshake, “Hi Mr. Cavill, I’m Y/n L/n and i’ll be interviewing you today” I said with a smile on my face, secretly trying to compose myself.

Reaching out to shake my hand, “It’s lovely to meet you Y/n”

Sitting down in my seat, was when I noticed a big furball down by our feet. My love for dogs instantly skyrocketing, “Omg and who is this good boy?”

I asked reaching down to scratch the American Akita on its back.

“That’s Kal, but be careful he doesn’t really take to strangers well” Henry said chuckling sitting back in his seat.

“Okay so the first question is, was there any specific tricks or hacks you learnt that made your life easier during the filming of season 2?” Looking back into his eyes, I saw him give a warm smile

“Well great question first of all, but uh yes I learnt that-“

Henry didn’t even get to finish his answer, because Kal had gotten onto his hind legs and jumped onto me. Shocking rising into both of our faces as Kal jumped expectedly.

“Kal, down”

“No it’s quite okay don’t worry, he’s just playful aren’t you boy?” I said scratching in between Kal’s ears resulting in him licking my hand.

“Ok lets get down boy so you can get home quicker yeah?” I said helping Kal down onto the floor again. Looking up to find Henry staring at me, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

“As you were saying Mr. Cavill?”

(Henry’s P.O.V)

As soon as the interviewer had walked into the room, my eyes were captured immediately. I don’t know what it was about her, but the atmosphere when she arrived enamoured me.

Y/n. Something about her definitely seemed different, I just couldn’t put my finger on it yet. She sat down and started her first question, only I was interrupted.

Kal had chosen Y/n as his next victim, jumping up onto her lap like he did with me this morning.

That was weird, Kal was always wary around strangers yet he really took to Y/n. God is this a crush? Surely not, i’d only met the girl only a while ago.

The happiness clear in her eyes when she played with Kal, tugged on my heartstrings. I had to get to know this girl, I just had to.

(Time Skip to after the interview)

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Thankfully we got through the rest of the interview without any more loving Kal interruptions. The crew had started to leave the room, leaving Henry and I with Kal in the room. Beginning to pick up my cue cards, Kal this time had decided to jump fully onto my lamp engulfing me in his fur.

“Oof”

“Kal, get down from the gorgeous lady and leave her alone”

Henry said standing up, coming over and lifting Kal off my lap and putting him onto the ground again. I can’t believe he had just called me gorgeous, this had to be a fever dream.

“It was lovely to meet you Mr. Cavill”

“Please, call me Henry, and something tells me this won’t be the first time we’ll meet Miss. L/n”

The hell did that mean?

(Time Skip to Next week)

Sitting in my room, I watched my interview being uploaded to youtube. Giggling with pride, I clapped happily instantly watching the views rise to tremendous levels.

“This calls for a celebration, well done Y/n” I said to myself, shutting off my laptop and heading for the Pizza takeout menu waiting for me on my table.

After ordering my usual order, I checked my interview again and its views were over 5 million, already?! That couldn’t be right.

When all of a sudden my supervisor Kelly started ringing me on the phone.

(Phone Conversation)

Kelly: OMG Y/N DID YOU SEE THE INTERVIEW's DEMOGRAPHICS??

Y/n: Kelly this cannot be real, how is this reaching so many people already

Kelly: Well a lot of the comments, seem to admire you for asking Henry genuine questions. Not to mention Henry ogling you the whole time as you played with Kal

Kelly: Ok wait i’ve got to go, I just wanted to congratulate you hun, this is the start of your career

(End of Phone Conversation)

'Shit Y/n you’ve only gone and done it' I thought to myself, my phone starting to ping with Twitter notifications.

HenryCavillspecs: OMG THAT INTERVIEW WAS SO CUTE, did anyone else notice how Henry looked at Y/n the interviewer?!

Bighenswife: Oh to be her😍 Please tell me he got her number or something?!

User18273017: Usually i’d be jealous, BUT THEYD BE SO CUTE TOGETHER

“What the-“ Scrolling through my mentions on twitter, the love I received was amazing however my heart couldn’t help but flutter every time someone mentioned how Henry looked at me.

I looked and saw I had received a message only shy of 10 minutes

Henry Cavill:

“Hey Y/n, i’m sure you’ve seen all the coverage on our interview. I was wondering if I could get your number, for Kal's sake of course ;)”

Oh my gosh.