#but I was already getting carried away from the initial topic so I had to stop myself

[lieutenantselnia]

Davy Jones' Origin

Some time ago I’ve started to wonder if Davy Jones possibly spoke Scottish Gaelic besides English, or if it could even be his actual first language. Although he is never shown speaking it or having a particular connection to his homeland besides speaking with a Scottish accent, I think it would make sense, given Scotland’s history before and during the 18th century. Therefore, I thought this could be an interesting topic to examine. Mind you that I’m not a historian, and not an expert on those topics, I merely love exploring and extending the backstory of one of my favourite characters.

Spoiler: I don’t even get to discuss the initial topic itself in this text, this serves more as a setup where I try to sort my countless thoughts that I have about Davy. I plan to talk about it in another text some time in the future though.

Before looking at the language topic, I think it makes sense to look at Davy’s general background. His origins and his life before he fell in love with Calypso are largely unknown. It can only be estimated for how long he has roamed the seas ever since, but I think it is safe to assume that it has been multiple decades at least, though more likely centuries already.

The official wiki states that he and Calypso met and fell in love at an unknown date – and under unknown circumstances – between 1600 and 1660. It is not known for how long their relationship lasted before Calypso made him captain of the Flying Dutchman and put him in charge of ferrying souls to the afterlife. It could have been mere weeks, but also months or even years. In case of the latter, they probably saw each other on a semi-regular basis, as Davy would visit her during his voyages. All in all, it leaves a lot of room for interpretation (and fanfictions).

However, it is known that as Davy felt betrayed by Calypso when she didn’t show up to meet him, after he had fulfilled his duty loyally for ten years, he convinced the newly formed Brethren Court to bind her in human form. For some reason, the German PotC wiki states that the First Brethren Court convened presumably around 1640. Although there are no sources cited to back up this claim, there is no explicit contradiction to be found either. Assuming it is true – after all, it would be within the given timeframe – , Davy would have taken up his duty around the year 1630. By the time the movies take place, he would therefore have captained the Dutchman for around 100 years.

In a few instances of the official wiki, Davy is described as a “young sailor” when he meets Calypso. In other instances, no indication on his age is given. “Young” could supposedly mean he was in his 20s or 30s, which would therefore set his birth date around 1600.

On the other hand, he already looks significantly older when Calypso reveals his human form (the actor Bill Nighy was in his late 50s at the time the movies were produced). Of course he could simply have aged, however – though this is just my personal opinion – I like to think that he was already on the more mature side when he became cursed – possibly somewhere between the age of 40 and 60 – and that the curse either stops or at least alters the natural aging process of any person affected.

There is barely any specific canon information on this, but as shown in the movies, both Davy and the rest of the crew have maintained excellent physical strength and agility (in fact, it’s even enhanced compared to regular humans). This makes me assume that the curse either just stops their aging process and they stay at the same level of physical fitness that they had when they first fell under the curse, or that their transformation into sea creatures somehow slows down or alters the process, for example by balancing out their age-related physical decay by adopting more and more features from animals or other marine life.

Assuming he was already a middle-aged man, possibly around age 50, Davy would have been born in the late 1500s. On a personal note, I could also imagine that the story as a whole took place even earlier, and that Davy could have been born anytime during the 1500s or even the late 1400s. As the whole story around Davy Jones and Calypso is held very vaguely and even treated as a legend, there aren’t many concrete contradictions. However, as the First Brethren Court and Calypso’s capture are said to herald the start of the Golden Age of Piracy – which historically took place roughly between 1650 and 1730 – , it makes sense for those events to take place at a later date to connect everything (somewhat) logically.

To conclude this little examination and sum up the numbers: Davy Jones was presumably born in the second half of the 16th century. He and Calypso met before or around the year 1630, and around another ten years later, after their mutual betrayal and Davy abandoning his duty as a result, the curse started to take effect. Up until the events of Dead Man’s Chest, he has already captained the Flying Dutchman for almost a century, and reached an age of about 150 years – although due to the curse, this number doesn’t have a particular meaning in relation to his health or physical condition.

Of course, in the end this all is just my interpretation based on the rather sparse information that the official canon gives us. But it was certainly fun to finally bring some of my countless thoughts about Davy onto paper (trust me, there are a lot of those whirring around in my mind, but it’s not always easy to get hold of them). I haven’t even touched on the topic I actually wanted to talk about – that being Davy Jones’ relation to the Gaelic language and his homeland Scotland, but I really hope to do so in another essay.

Sources: https://pirates.fandom.com/wiki/Timeline_of_Pirates_of_the_Caribbean_series https://fluch-der-karibik.fandom.com/wiki/Zeitlinie_Fluch_der_Karibik

[russellsppttemplates]

He's going to be so loved (Pierre Gasly)

You're afraid your children won't have all the love they deserved

Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that is about a sensetive topic that I have hopefully depicted with the respect it deserves.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy, curse words, family issues (reader has cut ties with her family)

"Y/N, chérie, how is little man treating you?", Pascale asked once you opened the door, allowing her and Charlotte, one of your sisters in law, inside the house, "he's a kicker, that's for sure! But he's been good lately, usually just needs me to tell him once and he'll stick to just move around", you giggled helping them with their coats before getting together in the kitchen, "I'm finishing my breakfast, do you want something while I finish? Some biscuits, tea, coffee? Oh, Pierre also made this cake with me yesterday, I had a big craving for it and it turned out really good!", you offered, "I'll have some tea, please. And maybe some cake too, although if Pierre made it, I might start with a small piece and see how it goes from there", Charlotte chuckled as she helped you bring the plates to the table.

The initial plan was to get a few smaller things that you still needed to get, like muslin cloths and such things, but like any other time you had shopped with company, you ended up with way too many bags filled with baby things. When you got home, Pierre had already arrived back from work, meeting you at the door and helping you carry the bags up, "Mon amour, how was your day?", he asked, kissing your lips and grabbing some bags, "it was good, my feet are a bit sore, but I really enjoyed spending time with them!", you exclaimed, reaching the nursery and putting the bags on the floor, your arms opening sp you could hug your husband, "I kept telling them that, as far as I know, there's only one baby here, but they insisted on getting all of this!", you giggled, feeling his hands rub your bump, "Our family is growing and they're very excited, it's just one of the ways they show how happy they are and their support too", he said, kissing your forehead.

To anyone, that would be a simple comment and it would brush them as quickly as it was said. But for you, it stayed playing in loop in your mind. The reminders that you did not have your family by your side came and went since you decided to keep away from them, especially when it came to big dates or important moments, but recently it had been a constant thought.

Cutting ties with your family had been the best decision, there isn't a day that you regret what you did. Having said that, it was still something you wished you could have in different circumstances. To have your mother share her experiences, to show you things from when you were little, to have your father teaching you and setting you set up the nursery and tell you all about your family's customs through the years.

Pierre's family had been incredible like always. They knew just enough about what happened with your family and not only respected it but also supported you in any way they could, taking you under their wing like you were one of their own from the beggining. The pregnancy had been received with massive excitement from everyone, and they kept calling whenever they had the chance, wanting to know how you were and if there was anything they could do to help you and Pierre in this journey. But lately, it had been a bit of a handful dealing with your thoughts.

.

"Can you grab the bag, please?", Pierre asked once he parked the car, checking something on the car before exiting it and lacing your hands once he got out, locking it and heading to the front door of Charles' place.

They had invited you over for baby Hervé's shower, welcoming you inside while you looked around, "we have a specific chair for you so you can be comfy", Charles said as he pointed to his wife, "she ordered me to do it", he chuckled, "hey! You don't know what it is to carry a baby around! It's hard work, and we both need to rest!", she reasoned with her husband, hugging you the best way you could before she introduced you to the people you didn't know. While they had a lot of friends and family you already knew, Charles' in laws were there too and you hadn't yet met some of them. They congratulated you, easily chatting up about everything and anything while you ate the snacks and drinks being passed around.

Pierre felt his body get a little bit lighter. It wasn't like your demeanor had changed that much in comparison to the last few days, but you certainly looked comfortable and like you were enjoying yourself.

"There's something on your mind, and I have time while they decorate biscuits. So, spill it", Charles noted, sitting next to Pierre on one of the high stools, sipping from his drink while he looked at his bestfriend. "Does Y/N seem off to you? Or has she seemed off to you recently?", he wondered looking at his wife admiring her work of art in the blue powdered sugar icing.

"I mean, she's lost some of her energy, but that's normal at this stage. You can't expect that she is running around now", Charles reasoned, not understanding where he was going, "it's just, I think she's been a little crestfallen, quieter than usual lately, and she hasn't said anything to me in that regard, she's been very quiet. I've tried to get her to talk, but she never says much", Pierre slumped his shoulders, "you just have to take it day by day. It's a lot these days, I'm sure you feel it, too. And they feel it even more. Family and friends are a great help, but there are some things they have to deal with on their own and it's hard to juggle all of it. She'll come to you whenever she feels ready, trust me", Charles patted his back.

.

You put all the baby clothes you had washed and dried in the hamper, supporting it comfortably on your side as you walked up to the nursery. The room was coming along well, the crib was already finished, just needing to be done with the softest sheets your skin has ever felt, and the rest of the furniture had been assembled whenever you and Pierre found the time to do it. Setting the clothes on top of the dresser, you opened the respective drawers to allocate every piece, taking the time and effort of remembering who had gifted them to your baby boy. Charles and his wife got matching sets so that both of the boys could look alike, Pascale had gotten way too many pieces for you to keep track on, claiming she was so excited to be a grandma again that she couldn't help herself anytime she saw something cute and had to get it.

Without noticing, tears started falling from your eyes and into the small pieces of clothing, marking them and creating a strain on your breath. Breathing in this late stage of pregnancy was already difficult, and sobbing wasn't helping it. You carefully walked to the chair you had put in the room so you'd have somewhere to sit during the night, proving its usefulness now as you tried to manage your emotions.

Pierre came out of the bathroom after his shower, already dressed and towell in hand so he could take it to the laundry room when he heard movement in the nursery. He didn't expect to see you like how he found you, cheeks red and tear stained and a trembling lip while you looked up at the ceiling.

"Hey, amour, what's the matter? Are you in pain?", he walked, throwing the towell on the corridor and kneeling in front of you, holding your hand in his while the other brushed the hairs out of your eyes. "I'm not in pain, I'm okay", you gulped, "but I haven't been feeling good. And I've wanted to talk to you, but I didn't want to bother you, even though you always say I could never bother you, but I'm telling you now, I guess", you blurted, receiving an encouragement nod from your husband.

Sighing, you played with his fingers, "lately, it dawned on me that my family isn't around for this, for me or for baby Alexandre, for us", you began, "and seeing Charles and his wife and everyone for there for Hervé, it got me thinking even more like, everyone was there to see them! To see the mother to be, to support her and congratulate her. And I'm not saying this in a bad way, because I'm so happy that they have it. And I know we have that from your family, I'm not complaining about them either. Everyone has been lovely, but fuck, I won't have my family supporting me. I won't have my father checking up on his little girl after she gave birth or have my mother share her experiences because the thought of having to be in the same room as them chills my bones. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt still, because it does", you cried, the attempt of looking up to stop the tears from flowing failing as Pierre carefully wiped them.

"How long have you been feeling like this, mon ange?", Pierre asked, now holding your face in his hands, "a little while, and the shower just made it a bit stronger, I think. Fuck, I sound like an awful person, I'm sorry", you apologised, "hey, no need for that. It's okay to feel like this, you don't have to feel guilty about your feelings", your husband reasoned.

"It is the best decision to keep away from them, I wouldn't change it for the world. But it will only be me passing down our traditions, and letting him know how things used to be, our language, our customs", you sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve, "because I don't want him to not know. It is a part of me that I'm proud of and I'm not letting my parents take that from me too", you breathed out. Rubbing your hands, your husband looked for your eyes, "and we will make sure he knows. Him and his siblings if we are fortunate along the way. I know a few words myself, and I'll help with all the traditions. I'll make your recipes, even if they don't taste as good, I'll teach them about all the holidays you celebrate and that we will celebrate too and I'll support you in anything you decide to do, I promise", he stated, smiling in hope you'd mirror his, the corners of your lips lifting a little.

"I know they're your family, but I'm sure that our little one is going to be so so so loved, he's going to be doted on by everyone", Pierre pointed out, "and we will make sure we do everything we can for that. And you are going to tell me everytime things get too much, okay? I hate to see you like this", he asked, earning a nod from you, "now, how about we sort these clothes so we can finally decide on the outfit he's wearing for when he comes home?", your husband teased you, "your brother gave us this little set he found and I think that's the one, let me show you it", you said, getting up and waddling to the pile of clothes, happily showing you the choice and smiling as you watched your husband's excitement about it all. Your little boy was going to be so loved, and it didn't have to be from a blood relationship.

[suspiciouslypinkrosegarden]

𓆝 𓆟 Armin Week 2024 𓆝 𓆟

Day 3: Prompt Nerd Armin

Description: Nerd Armin x Shy Nerd Reader. You sit behind Armin in class and want to get to know him! Relationship to Armin as well as school (whether it's high school or uni) is left undefined, for all ages, stages and how you personally see Armin. Gender neutral as always.

I didn't have too much time to edit/write, so sorry if flow isn't great! I wanted something quick and cute lol

Pretty blue eyes hidden behind thick black glasses, and a terrible habit of raising his hand with a level of excitement that no one else seemed to have. Armin was the boy who sat in front of you during this class, staring at the back of his blond head more than the white board most days as you zoned out to the background noise of lecture. He always seemed to shrink as the teacher would ask for anyone else to answer the question presented, as if suddenly ashamed he was ten steps ahead of the rest of his peers. 

As he entered the classroom each day, the charms and pins on his back pack usually caught your eye, clinking of plastic turning your head in his direction. You admired the way he seemed to show off his interests without shame, everything he owned decked out with references to what sparked his personal joy. This was what helped you take notice of him in the first place, eyes immediately drawn to the wings of freedom sticker on his laptop he carried with him everywhere he went. You wondered if he was looking forward to seeing the finale in theaters soon to be released.

As a couple of weeks passed, summer gone as the leaves fell brown upon the ground, you found yourself collecting data on him subconsciously thanks to his decoration based transparency. A Star Wars notebook, anime keychains, ocean themed stickers, and assorted pencil toppers or themed pens which he’d occasionally chew on. He was a nerd right to his core, and suddenly your few items felt pale in comparison to his elaborately crafted image. Call Armin what you will, but you wanted to get to know him as someone with similar interests and no one to share them with. 

In this new semester, you were determined to initiate a conversation somehow, neither of you usually speaking to each other unless instructed to do so for chapter discussions. He already had close friends unlike you, rushing off after class to join together as part of a solid trio, making it hard to say anything as the hour and a half came to a close. He seemed reserved as someone content with his friend group already, while you seemed reserved as someone usually too nervous to speak. But today you’d do your best to reach out to Armin yet again, hoping something small could come of it. 

Before lecture, your hand stretched forward in an attempt to tap his back, stopping as he received a phone call from one of his friends about a movie tonight. You pulled away. As the teacher prattled on about an unrelated topic, you tried to make a joke regarding its lack of importance to what you were learning, but he just didn’t hear you. You stayed silent the rest of class. Instructed to share summaries on last night’s reading, he turned to look at the girl to his right instead of back at you. You almost audibly sighed. And once the clock reached its anticipated time, you stood up in another day’s defeat, spilling out the open contents of your pencil case sitting on your lap and not the desk. 

The noise was loud, plastic and wood clattering against the shiny flooring as items rolled underneath the many rows of black chairs. You felt embarrassed, but for once Armin seemed to not want to rush out of class. As you knelt to start collecting your belongings, you watched as he leveled with you on the ground to start doing the same. His hands gently passed you your Sanrio pens, and it was him who decided to speak first. 

“Your pens are cute…is Cinnamoroll your favorite? I’ve got a pin of him on my bag.” 

You smiled, noticing how he suddenly seemed a bit timid.

“Actually, Mocha is my favorite, but merchandise for her is impossible to find. I noticed your pin a while back and actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you I like your keychains and such.”

You let it all out, ignoring how heavy any of your excitement might come across to be.

“I like your R2D2 notebook too…and I saw your Starship Enterprise charm on your bag-”

He brought his hand up to his face, pushing his thick black glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he cut you off. There was a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks, and you saw his shyness slowly melt away at the introduction of topics he was familiar with.

“So…you’ve seen the original Star Trek too?”

[demonslayedher]

Can we get a mini prologue to the low key married au? If you need prompts then have this:

Shinobu and Giyuu surviving the final battle, Shinobu loses her voice (somehow), giyuu losing his arm like canon, they become more expressive but still low key in public due to reflex. Now that Shinobu is mute, she uses sign language in the most menacing way. She smiles at someone while cursing out at them in sign language, and Giyuu is just sighing at his wife's antics. They do think of having kids, but it doesn't work out due to the fact that Shinobu became far too weak to carry a child. It took a while for them to overcome it, but they did it together. Shinobu is secretly glad she wouldn't have to name her child tanjiro.

Feel free to add more, It's 12 am I should go sleep now, I have school tomorrow. Peace ✌️ and take care.

What I enjoy about GiyuShino is that, despite (and maybe because) I don't see it as canon, it lends itself so way to many, many versions of AUs. Even in my Low Key Married GiyuShino AU, which has them married in the background for the bulk of what we see of their Corp service, I have envisioned multiple directions that could go in, which is why I haven't posted anything beyond the scope of canon because I like all the directions. I hope you don't mind that I'll stay within the realms of my canon-concurrent AU to give it some background and set-up.

SO!! They go on missions together and despite how much she bothers him, Shinobu feels drawn to Giyuu and Giyuu likes Shinobu's company. In this AU, Kanae had expressed a desire to get married some day, and Shinobu plays with the idea herself due to a desire to see Kanae's wishes come true and still have some presence in the world. This is only what spurs the thoughts; Shinobu's desire to marry Giyuu is more so on a whim and acceptance that happily ever after probably wouldn't happen anyway.

They wind up talking enough (amazing, she really pressed Giyuu's buttons somehow!) that they both wind up blurting to each other their insecurities as Pillars. Giyuu assures Shinobu she's worth her Pillar status for having killed demons no matter what method she uses, and Shinobu assures Giyuu he's worth his status no matter what went down at the Final Selection. They both find themselves comforted by having opened up and gotten encouragement.

This makes Shinobu find herself falling into that passing fancy about marriage, and she proposes it. Nothing to make them settle down or change anything about their mission; just two weak Pillars supporting one another. Giyuu responds right away by some excuse like "stay focused on the mission, Kochou" which is his way of backing the hell out of a conversation he wasn't prepared for, and Shinobu takes it that way initially, but then she reconsiders it later as his already having rejected her.

While away from each other, Shinobu is embarrassed and upset with herself every time she thinks of it, and chides herself for having been distracted from avenging Kanae. Giyuu, meanwhile, is all kinds of shaken up about it and can't get her out of his head, and while on a visit to Urokodaki, the topic comes up and Urokodaki (who, according to Fanbook 1, has a woman he fancies but things have never progressed with her) tells him he clearly wants it and telling himself he doesn't deserve it or anything is stupid. Giyuu tries to rebuke that he's, well, a Pillar (it feels strange to say), but Urokodaki reminds him there have been plenty of married Pillars, and urges not to fall into the same mistakes he did. This gets through to Giyuu, he realizes that yes, he wants to marry Shinobu, and in the time they aren't together, he's fretful that he's lost his chance and she's moved on, out of his grasp. (That sense she's out of his grasp won't leave him, even later.)

So they finally meet up and kick things off because he calls her out on her own BS.

She's embarrassed and initially defensive but it's actually kind of nice to be seen through so they talk it out, set their "Pillars first, spouses second" boundaries, and then make simple arrangements and seek Oyakata-sama's permission. They get married, and soon enough, they are off to work as usual.

[littlewinter1917]

𝔏𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔏𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI. 🔞 Don’t repost my work anywhere.

"𝔏𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰, ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔥𝔢'𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱."

Words: 31.4k (I don’t know how this happened either!)

Additional Disclaimer: Tumblr won’t let me post the whole story in one, so I’m posting this simultaneously in two parts.

This one is the first part and technically 21.7k.

You can read the second part here.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary: He’s hot, he’s bold, he’s destructive, and despite your friends telling you to stay away from him, you can’t help but keep coming back for more. It’s the same thing for Billy, as he finds himself addicted to your touch and drawn in by the fire in your eyes. But it’s a dangerous game you’re both playing, and just like moths drawn to a flickering flame, someone’s bound to get hurt by the angry blaze burning all around the two of you.

Warnings: Drug and alcohol use. Shotgunning. Reader is quite the ‘maneater’ and uses casual sex in an unhealthy way. Swearing, arguments, daddy issues and minor anger issues, mentions of insecurities and insults. Slut-shaming (not from Billy!), and a fistfight. None-descriptive injuries and scars. Angry, rough sex in a public bathroom. Dirty talk, degradation, facefucking, dacryphilia, spanking, praising, spitplay, and unprotected sex. Billy and the reader both struggle with abandonment issues. Mentions and signs of self-destructive behavior, distress, and unstable home lives (Aka Billy’s past abuse and the reader’s dad being an alcoholic.) Minor jealousy, hurt feelings, angst and some breakdowns. There are mentions of difficult relationships to parental figures and the struggles that come with that, as well as implied past parental abuse, (Physical for Billy; emotional for both of them). But also: Billy & the reader opening up, learning to trust, and finally getting some healing. Fluff and a lot (!!!) of hurt/comfort along the way.

Read the story on AO3 here.

A/N: Parts of the Story and title are inspired by the Lana Del Rey song Happiness is a Butterfly.

I’ve been writing parts of this little beast for a while now, and I’m so glad I finally get to share it! This was initially supposed to be my take on a more toxic!Billy, but I failed that assignment completely. Turns out I just can’t write Billy to be overly mean or manipulative. The reader however is definitely written as a little more complicated and troubled, so please bear that in mind before reading. If topics such as commitment issues, self-objectification, and seeking male validation as well as emotional relief in rather unhealthy ways (in this case: lots of sex with men), upset or trigger you, please don’t continue reading!!

You meet him for the first time during one of your friend’s get-together down by the beach.

You arrived there with your usual lateness, so that the bottles of cheap vodka and liquor had already been passed along multiple times around the small bonfire, leaving most of your friends comfortably buzzed. It’s not like you’d join them in their pointless drinking games anyway, solely sticking to the little joints rolled up somewhere in the deep, dark pockets of your leather jacket. 

It’s Heather who spots you first, throwing one of her hands up in a lazy greeting, before patting the warm sand next to her as an invitation to sit down. 

“Wasn’t sure if you ditched us again or not.” She teases, and you just roll your eyes as a retort. 

“Don’t tempt me.” You huff, but the smile on your face is playful, and Heather simply pokes your side in retaliation until gentle laughter is bubbling out of you like sweet, straw-induced milkshake bubbles on a hot summer’s day.

It’s a soft sound that the wind carries over the wide and open beach, and it’s the first thing about you that grabs his attention, but you don’t know anything about that yet. 

You don’t notice him right away, too occupied with the task of catching up with your friends.

You’ve been going to less of the outings lately, so there’s actually stuff you managed to miss, like the fact that Heather has finally asked out one of the new girls, Robin, and now they have their first date set for Saturday.

It’s exciting, really, and you congratulate your friend with earnest joy, before pulling out one of your little joints. Heather isn’t big on smoking, so you don’t even try offering it to her. She’ll just snatch it from you instead if she feels like taking a drag or two, knowing that you’ll let her without much of a fuss. 

Similar to him, it’s his laughter that draws you in at first. It’s a deep and raspy sound that fills the evening air around you with a certain electricity, and it has you stopping your dreamy gaze towards the darkening dusk sky, as you try to make out the source of the sound.

You spot him sitting almost opposite to you, across the bonfire, next to Argyle, while the two of them are talking rather enthusiastically about something. 

You can’t make out any words, not with the way someone’s music’s playing in the background, accentuated only by the gentle sound of the crackling fire and the booming blend of voices and laughter coming from your friends. 

But he’s pretty. 

Really pretty.

Blue eyes big and bright, hair an endearing mess of curls, and his sun-kissed skin adorned with the faint traces of freckles.

He’s wearing a half-unbuttoned shirt in a deep red color, akin to that of the setting sun that’s currently in the midst of getting swallowed up by the ocean. But unlike usually, you’re barely paying attention to the breathtaking sunset, eyes instead transfixed on something just as beautiful.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Heather chimes up from beside you, following your gaze towards the new guy, before shaking her head, determined.

“That guy is trouble with a capital t and then some,” she whispers, “heard he’s good for a quick fuck, but the only thing bigger than his ego are his anger issues. So, I’d stay as far away from him as possible.”

“But he’s really pretty,” you whisper back, voice hushed but earnest, because, well, he simply is. 

“Yes, okay, but so are plenty of things. So are the warm, flickering flames of the bonfire,” Heather states with a nod towards the burning wood in front of you, “still doesn’t mean you should go run through it. There are things better admired from a distance, and that,” her eyes fixate on the pretty stranger again, “is one of those things.”

You just huff in return, crossing your arms across your chest defensively, before biting,

“And since when did you become such a prude, exactly? What’s wrong with a quick fuck anyway. Didn’t say I wanted to become his docile, little housewife or anything. All I said was that he’s pretty.”

“Yes, a pretty little notch in your bedpost maybe, and then what?”

“Then I find someone else that’s pretty. Come on, Heather, you know the drill, it’s not like it’s anything new.” 

The sigh that leaves Heather’s lips is somewhere between disappointment and defeat.

“It’s your prerogative at the end of the day. If you choose to fuck with him, that’s your call, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

“How bad can he be,” you grumble after another lazy drag from the joint you’re still nursing. 

“Not any worse than you, I hope.” Heather states, and while you know she’s just teasing, there’s also a seriousness swimming in her eyes, one that has your mouth going slightly dry; drier than the hot smoke you keep inhaling, as you wonder what she’s on about. 

“I know how to play with fire, don’t worry about me getting burned.” You whisper after a few beats of silence, turning the joint in your hand absentmindedly as you mull over your friends words in your head. 

“But you know it’s bound to happen, don’t you? You’re going to get hurt at some point in time if you keep this up, this thing that you’re doing.” 

“I’m not doing anything; I’m merely having fun.” 

“Exactly. But just how many people can you burn through before the flames start catching up to you too?”

“You should really stop reading Bukowski or Platt or whoever inspired you with these silly, little fire metaphors, because I’m not having any of it.” You state, before getting up, patting the lingering sand from the little black dress you’re wearing. 

“I’m gonna find myself something to drink,” you mumble, and before one of the other girls can point you halfheartedly towards one of the liquor bottles, you state, “Something non-alcoholic.”

There’s a little beach bar within walking distance, roughly 10 minutes away; but your steps are lazy as you stroll through the small waves that are playing and bumping against the shore, so it takes you a little longer. 

You keep thinking about Heather’s words, as you gaze out towards the seemingly endless sea and the darkening sky above. 

There’s something about the way she said the things she said, that doesn’t quite sit right with you. She’s not normally one to be that serious, and she’s certainly not one to curb your fun adventures, even if they might not be the best of ideas.

Whatever, you think. That guy was really pretty, and you’re rather picky, especially when it comes to guys. Being really good looking is like the only necessary expectation that men have to meet in your books. Yet they hardly deliver, so when someone does catch your eye, you’re intrigued.

You don’t really care about the rest because what for anyways? It’s not like you’d stick around to witness their great personalities.

You’d get a dog if you wanted a fun personality long-term in your life. You certainly don’t need a guy for that.

The woman behind the bar counter is someone you’ve seen around quite a bit. You’re pretty certain that her name’s Jamie, but you’re not a hundred percent sure, so you refrain from calling her that. 

Your eyes flicker over the little signs behind her, as if you don’t already know what you’ll order. It’s only to gain some more time as you mentally go through the words you’re about to say just to make sure that they come out right.

You end up ordering a cherry slushy and a coke, and as you dig through the pockets of your leather jackets for a few coins, you feel a presence slide up right beside you. 

“Didn’t think you’d be the type of girl who goes for a fucking soft drink.” The man’s voice sounds deep and raspy, and almost familiar. 

It’s the stranger from the bonfire, you quickly notice, without looking up, once he leans his arms against the bar counter, the sleeves of his shirt still a deep, ruby-red. 

“Didn’t think you’d be the type of guy who creepily follows girls around.” You retort as you grab your slushy, playing with the straw for a bit before pushing it slowly between your lips and turning around towards the guy, a challenging look on your face.

“I wasn’t following you,” he huffs, but you know a lie when you see one. And that guy’s definitely lying. 

“Sure,” voice dripping with sarcasm, you force your attention back towards the iced drink in your hand, twirling the straw around some more, until Jamie comes back with your coke. 

“There you go,” she states, as she puts the cooled drink down on the counter, “had to dig deep in the fridge for that one. Think we’re out of those for the night now, actually.”

“What a shame,” the guy next to you suddenly chimes in, “I was really craving a soft drink too.” 

You’re not entirely sure if he’s being earnest or if he’s poking fun at you. If it’s the latter, it’s nothing you aren’t used to. Your determination to avoid alcoholic drinks is something most guys love to point out and have a laugh over.

“What, don’t tell me you’re that much of a lightweight, sweetheart.” 

“Clearly you’ve never had a drink with me then.”

“Lighten up, pretty girl, a few beers won’t kill you.” 

“Sure, they won’t, but I might.” You can’t help but let slip in those kind of situations, when guys can’t wrap their pea-sized minds around the fact that not everyone enjoys getting wasted as much as they do. 

Assholes. 

“Guess I’ll have to go for a slushy too then,” the stranger states, before adding, “I’ll have the blueberry one, please.”

You try to hide your surprise at his choice of drink with fake detached boredom; and while he’s busy watching Jamie making his slushy, you take the time to get a better look at him too. 

He’s even prettier up close, lush lashes framing his aquamarine eyes, giving them a softer, dreamier touch. And the freckles on his skin are so detailed now, you could actually start counting them if you wanted to.

But there’s also a slight shadow underneath his left eye, and it takes you a moment to clock it as the faint traces of a bruise. 

Heather’s words swirl around in your mind again. 

Anger issues. 

You wonder what exactly she meant by that. 

“You done staring yet?” The stranger suddenly pulls you out of your thoughts, turning around towards you, a small smirk dancing around on his lips. 

“Maybe,” you shrug your shoulders lightly, masking the embarrassment of getting caught quickly. 

“Name’s Billy, by the way.”

He’s holding out his hand to you, rough yet slender fingers adorned with different silver rings.

You try not to notice how significantly bigger his hand feels in yours; how it almost swallows yours whole, like a predator might swallow its prey, or how his fingers linger around your wrist and pulse point for just a moment longer, before pulling away quickly.

His touch feels electrifying, and you love and hate it at the same time. It’s like you crave it but not without traces of guilt staining the subtle longing.

You try to ignore the pounding of your heart, as you tell him your name – but to your surprise he just gives you a lazy smile. 

“I know.” This time around the startled look on your face is more difficult to hide, and the guy, Billy, quickly follows it up by saying, “Your friends told me all about you.” 

You wonder who exactly he’s talking about. It certainly isn’t going to be Heather, that’s for sure. Maybe Argyle let something slip, or Tommy; that guy can’t keep his mouth shut for the life of him. 

But it’s not like it matters now, anyway.

Not with the way Billy’s eyes wander with something akin to hunger over your frame, until his gaze finds itself transfixed on your cherry-stained lips.

God, you love slushies; and now you’re once more reminded of why. 

You watch Jamie as she’s searching for a straw, and it’s only as the brief silence continues, that you notice there’s some music playing in the background.

It’s ABC’s The Look of Love, and you can’t help but hum along to it softly, tapping the beat with your fingertips gently against the still freezing plastic cup in your hands.

“Fuck, don’t tell me you’re into this new-wavy shit.” Billy looks genuinely appalled, and you just roll your eyes. 

Great. So, he’s one of those guys who unironically think their music taste is so much more superior than everyone else’s. 

“Well, shit, don’t tell me you’re the kind of guy who feels personally victimized by the use of some synthesizers.” You bite back, and to your surprise, there’s a catty grin spreading over Billy‘s face.

“So, what if I am?” He drawls, voice low, and eyes challenging. 

“I don’t think I can fuck a guy who thinks music stopped evolving after the 1970s.” 

“Who said anything about fucking?” 

You give him a look that says, ‘haha very funny,’ but Billy tries to look all doe-eyed and innocent.

It hardly suits him.

Not with the way his eyes keep reflecting his intentions that his lips have yet to form into an actual sentence. 

He wants you. 

He wants you badly, and you hate the small spark of proudness that lights up somewhere deep within your chest at the realization, the confirmation; the simple achievement of being desirable to yet another man. 

You know somewhere even deeper within you, that this isn’t healthy. That your body shouldn’t get into that kind of euphoric overdrive at the sight of even the smallest, positive acknowledgement and approval of a guy you deem pretty.

Or any guy for that matter, but it’s only the pretty ones you decide to take home. 

Well, not even that is true, now that you think of it. You never actually take people home. That just feels too personal, too vulnerable. The sex usually happens in spaces private enough to not get caught, yet also impersonal enough to make your attentions of a no-strings-attached-fuck pretty clear. 

“So, where are we going next?” Billy’s rough voice pulls you out of your thoughts again, and by now, he’s nursing his frozen, neon blue drink, too. 

“We?” You question, eyebrows raised, but it’s just for show. Most of your acts are these days; especially the ones you keep up around men. 

“You wanna go back to your friends?” he offers.

“Why? Do you have something else in mind?” You inquire because you know that he doesn’t actually want to walk back to the bonfire. 

Not when the public bathroom’s right here. 

“Don’t know,” Billy shrugs nonchalantly, “just don’t really want to share my slushy with the rest of the crowd, so maybe we can settle down over there for now?” 

Right. Sure, you think. His reasoning certainly is shit, but you let that slide, and instead all that Billy gets is a sweet smile. 

“Okay.” 

You follow Billy to the abandoned spot he’s been pointing at. It’s close enough to the ocean that you can still dip your feet into the saltwater if you’d like, while still being vacant of any undesired beach visitors.

The two of you plop down unceremoniously into the sand, and the soft breeze that’s blowing feels nice on your skin. 

By now the sun has completely vanished from the horizon, hiding somewhere below the calm surface of the sea. Its last and only trace is the small stripe of orange that keeps bleeding into the deeper blue above. It’s almost as if the sky’s getting drained, losing its color and vibrancy to the creeping and growing night.

You look up to see a few shiny stars slowly starting to poke through the vanishing daytime veil, and there’s a comfort in that. 

A comfort that’s hard to explain, but a comfort, nevertheless. 

“So, are you from around here?” Billy’s voice suddenly breaks through the silence.

“Something like that.” You respond, eyes still fixed on a spot high above you. It’s only when you repeat his question back to him that your gaze wanders over towards the pretty boy. 

“Something like that.” He echoes your words, but there’s a teasing smile playing on his lips, and you huff. 

Stop being so fucking cute, you think. 

“Haven’t seen you around before,” you wonder aloud instead, and for a brief moment, you think you see Billy’s smile waver. 

“Yeah, I, uh, I moved back here only recently,” he mumbles, while burying his hands into the sand, “but I’m initially from here,” he quickly adds, “California born and raised.” 

“I see.” You say, because you’re unsure of what else to throw his way. You might not be a fucking psychology major, but even you can see that he seems slightly uncomfortable by the current talking topic. 

“What else do you do, when you’re not engaging in the worst music taste ever?” 

The question actually manages to make you laugh, because you didn’t expect it at all. 

“For a guy who hasn’t told me anything about his music taste yet, you sure like talking a lot of shit, don’t you?” 

“It’s because my music taste’s the best, sweetheart.” 

“Like hell it is.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

“I’d rather not.” 

The soft smiles you two exchange feel misplaced. You’re not normally in such a playful mood, and the smiles you grant the men you talk to rarely feel this genuine. 

But for some reason, you’re a little more intrigued by this guy than you normally are by the men you hook-up with; and for the next half hour you two continue talking avidly.

The topics span from the superior Pop Rocks flavor to the latest W.A.S.P album, which Billy seems genuinely surprised by when you bring it up. 

“So, you’re telling me you have both, a good and a bad music taste? How’s that even possible?” He jokes, and it made you stick your tongue out towards him playfully.

It’s a gesture Billy mirrors back at you quickly, and it has you laughing more. 

“Ew, your tongue.” You point out in between soft giggles.

“What’s wrong with my tongue? Billy questions slightly concerned.

“It’s all blue, dumbass! You look like you went down on Smurfette and suffered collateral damage while doing so.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I guess I did, but I didn’t expect you to have such a filthy mouth on you.” 

You’d be surprised how much filthier that mouth can get, you think quietly to yourself, but he’ll probably find that out soon enough.

After the slushies there’s a joint and a few regular cigarettes shared between you two.

At some point, you feel like your senses are heightened, and you swear you can taste the saltwater of the ocean with every gentle inhale of air, tangy on your tongue.

Without really thinking, you find yourself getting up again, and with only a few steps your feet are buried deeply in the waves, that are still lapping gently up against the shore.

“What are you doing?” Billy questions, eyes sparkling with amusement and curiosity as he watches you twirl around in the shallow water. 

“What does it look like?” 

“A matting dance, perhaps?” 

“Oh, that’s just you wishful thinking, pretty boy.” 

Billy’s smile widens at your words, as he continues to watch you with fond eyes. He tries to forget the warnings Tommy gave him earlier, about how he should stay far, far away from you, if he treasured his heart at all.

Good thing he doesn’t, Billy thinks.

But he’s also rather confident that Tommy has just been trash-talking anyway.

There’s no way you’re quite the serial heartbreaker he painted you out to be.

No fucking way.

From somewhere along the beach there’s suddenly loud music being played, and it takes Billy only a brief moment to identify the opening riff as that of Crosby, Stills & Nash’s Dark Star. He watches with awe as you continue to swirl around to it, singing the lyrics softly into the darker growing summer night.

When his gaze finds yours, there’s something in your eyes that makes Billy feel defenseless; bare, almost. Like you just took one deep look into his soul, and he’s not sure if you liked what you saw.

He subconsciously plays with the buttons on his shirt, reminded of the ugly insecurities that hide underneath in plain sight, and he’s so lost in thought for a moment, that he finds himself caught off guard when you let yourself fall into the warm sand next to him again, moving closer until you’re almost sitting in his lap. 

“Dance with me, Billy.” You whisper, tugging on his hand playfully, and he groans. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Just one song, please?”

You give him your best puppy eyes, and most convincing pout. 

“Oh, pretty please, Billy!”

“What’s in it for me, sweetheart?” Billy mumbles, voice slightly suggestive. 

“What, like dancing with me isn’t enough of an incentive? That’s so rude, Billy. So rude.” You mumble, while your hand keeps tugging on his sleeve. It’s endearing, really; your childlike determination and stubbornness to get him to move.

“I don’t think I’m high enough yet to dance to some fucking folk-shit.”

The little offended huff that leaves your lips has Billy smiling slightly.

God, you’re even more adorable when you’re high.

“You’re so mean, Billy.” You pout, but at the same time you curl up more into him, and Billy decides to lift you onto his lap unceremoniously, arms wrapped around you tightly.

“Yeah, am I being a little too mean for your liking, sweet girl?” He mocks with fake concern, his knuckles brushing over your cheek gently. 

“Uh-huh.”

 You decide to bury your face into the crook of his neck, and he has to stifle the urge to coo at your cuteness. 

“Just one,” you whisper, “just one dance, Billy.”

Billy pretends to ponder your words, like he’s actually considering it.

He is not.

“Maybe after we shared another smoke, hm?” He proposes, and the way you quickly raise your head out of your current hiding spot and your eyes light up, makes him actually feel a little soft.

He shifts you slightly on his lap while digging for his zippo as well as for another joint, and you lean your head against his chest as you watch him light it. 

“You wanna shotgun?” He offers with a whisper, and you nod your head eagerly.

“Alright.” He murmurs, while you prop your head up against his shoulder, gazing up at him intensely as he takes the first hit. 

You watch him inhale deeply, watch the way his chest rises; the way the joint’s end glimmers between his lips, the way his eyes flutter shut for the briefest of moments.

When he opens them again, they’re quick to find yours, before his hand comes up to the back of your neck, gripping and guiding you towards him until your faces almost touch. 

You feel his fingers move from your neck to your jaw, holding you closer as his thumb presses up against your lips, and you part them instinctively.

He leans in, to an almost kiss, before blowing the smoke into your mouth. Without really thinking, you inhale deeply, feeling the shared smoke burn and tingle in your lungs.

Billy watches you with dreamy eyes, fingers still brushing against your jaw and cheek gently, even as you exhale. 

“Good girl,” he praises, voice rough and low, but when he goes to take another drag, you stop him softly.

“My turn.” You whisper while slipping your fingers into his, taking the joint.

“Hey, what-“

But you’re already breathing in deeply with the joint tugged securely between your lips, and all that Billy can do is watch in awe. 

Unlike him, you don’t close your eyes. Instead, you keep them locked with his almost the whole time through. Shifting on his lap slightly, you try and find a more comfortable position, and Billy can barely contain the small groan that’s bubbling up in his chest.

Fuck, you’re the devil, he thinks.

At this point you could ask him to dance to anything, really, and he would probably comply.

Then, without a warning, your hand finds its way into his curls, tugging lightly and pulling him incredibly closer again, and he feels his breath hitch at the action. But his mouth is quickly otherwise occupied when you press your lips against his softly.

And he’s eager, so fucking eager to swallow up the smoke you let drip out of your mouth into his. You both moan when he bucks his hips up slightly into yours, as you grind down onto him just as softly.

After his exhale, his lips find yours instinctively again, and he cradles your face as you deepen the kiss; nibbling on his lower lip playfully, and Billy feels like he’s going to transcend into heaven. 

Shotgunning has certainly never felt quite this good, and he doubts it ever will again. 

But then, suddenly, you’re up and out of his lap again, joint still secured tightly between your lips.

“You still owe me a dance, Billy.” The previous fire is back in your eyes, and Billy throws his head back with a groan.

“God, you’re the worst.” He states, but all you give him is a triumphant smile. 

“A dance, Billy.” 

“I don’t remember promising you one.”

“Well, then you should start promising and deliver.” 

“And what if I don’t?” 

“Then I’ll just have to find someone else. And trust me, I will.” 

Billy contemplates you for a moment, head tilted to the side, and you hate how adorable he looks. 

By now, the song that’s currently being blasted from who-knows-where is a different one, and Billy tries to figure out who the artist is.

“Are those the Bee Gees?” He questions, disgust clear in his voice. 

“Almost. It’s Andy Gibb.” 

When the frown between Billy’s brows doesn’t fade, you explain, “He’s like their younger brother, I think?” 

Billy continues to gaze up at you as you sway to the melody, voice soft in the summer night breeze, as you sing: “We leave immediately after dark, where the lights start fading, sweet and low…” 

There’s something hypnotizing in the way you move, and Billy feels like he could spend eternity just watching you dance underneath the waning moon that decided to rise and wander across the midnight blue ocean.

“Billy,” you drawl, looking at him expectantly, and he huffs. 

“Can I not just enjoy the show?” 

You consider his words for a moment.

“Fine, I guess the next song should do too. You’ll simply have to dance with me once this song’s finished, okay?” 

Billy cannot believe the words he’s about to let slip past his lips, and he wishes he could block his own ears off just to keep himself from having to hear it too. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll dance with you to the next song. I promise.” 

Pleased with his answer, you continue to lose yourself in the music, and Billy finds himself completely and absolutely enchanted by it.

So much so, in fact, that he doesn’t even realize you’ve been hogging his joint this whole time. 

When the current song is fading out, Billy's nervously anticipating what the next tune will be. 

Please be Metallica. Please be Metallica. Please be- 

It is in fact, not Metallica.

It’s a song he doesn’t recognize at all, until the artists start singing, and he’s fairly certain it’s America. Ugh! Just his luck for it to be a rather slow song too. 

But you don’t let that deter you. In fact, you look rather pleased at the selected song that’s now softly floating through the salty air around you. 

You reach out your hand towards Billy after taking a few steps towards him and with an overdramatic huff, he takes it reluctantly. 

♪ Runaway, boy have you seen a girl like an angel, runnin’ in the night. 

She’s run away, boy if you see her… ♫

In hindsight the lyrics seem like some really bad foreshadowing to Billy, but at the moment there’s hardly anything on his mind, other than you. 

“I don’t normally-“ He starts, unsure of how to even begin dancing to some tune whose beat seems more akin to the heartbeat of a snail.

“It’s fine, just-“ You show him how to best hold your hands, and where to place them if he wants to hold you tighter.

You twirl around playfully, lifting his hand up into the air as you do so; and Billy can’t help but smile wide at your shenanigans, and the way you swing carefree in the wind, before pulling him closer again, hands coming up around his neck. 

You however try not to notice how out of character this feels for you. Because, while you’re no stranger to dancing with people on sweaty and overheated dancefloors, this currently feels a lot more intimate and vulnerable.

And for the breath of a moment, you think that this is what it must be like to not fear connection as much as you do.

If you were less fucked, less of a burden, less difficult to love, you might even deserve it at some point in time.

But not tonight.

Not in the foreseeable future you’ve laid out for yourself.

And certainly not with Billy.

You lean your head against his shoulder, as he sways you both to the music, and for a guy who was rather adamant about not knowing how to dance less than two minutes ago, he’s surprisingly good at it.

Dumbass. 

When the song stops and a new one starts, neither one of you is inclined to pull away. Instead, you take the moment to gaze in each other’s eyes, and you feel a shiver run down your spine like lightning.

You want to kiss him, badly. 

Want to feel his lips all over your body if you're honest, just like you want to let your lips wander all over his body too. 

Maybe it’s the drugs talking. 

Please, let it be the drugs talking, you think. 

To your own surprise, it’s Billy who goes for the next move, as he brushes his nose gently against yours, before moving in even closer for a kiss. 

This would be the moment where the fireworks go off in the distance, you think, colorful flames reflecting in the almost black water of the sea.

But instead, there’s an ugly shadow crawling away within you, drowning out any of that. It's an intense anxiety that's fluttering in your stomach, like evil little butterflies gnawing away at your insides.

Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, you think. Maybe you can break the cycle this time. Maybe repeating mistakes isn’t like the worst thing in the world. Maybe things with Billy could be different, maybe-

“For someone with a blade for a tongue you’re awfully quiet.” Billy whispers teasingly, pulling you out of the dark storm brooding within you. It’s only now that you notice that your lips aren’t even moving against each other anymore.

“You know, I just asked you a question.” Billy mumbles against your neck, and you can’t help the wide-eyed look that crosses your face.

“Well, don’t look that surprised, angel. I was just questioning if we should maybe migrate this situation to one a little less public, and a little more physical.”

The realization that drops in your mind seems unusually heavy.

Sex. 

Of course, that’s what you two are here for anyways, right? 

That’s why he’s even putting up with any of this in the first place, right?

That’s been the goal of this exchange from the very start, right?

It certainly had been the only goal for you; at least initially.

You feel foolish for even considering the idea that there might have been more to this situation.

That there might’ve been more to you than just the sex, that Billy wanted to seek out and cherish. 

Foolish, foolish you. 

But sex feels safe, and familiar, and comforting but in a fucked up way. You’ve always used it as a reassuring lifeline for self-validation and as a welcomed distraction from the unpleasant and overwhelming feelings swirling somewhere deep within you almost all of the time. 

And now, with the nervous pounding of your heart in the back of your mind, you need such a distraction more than ever.

You need him to numb the pain, and the voices, and the fear of never, ever being good enough.

You need a distraction, and he’s the perfect one.

So, what’s the worst that can happen?

Nothing worse than what you’re already feeling, you think.

And with that, you give Billy a purposefully shy smile, before stating, “I think I need you to show me what exactly you have in mind…”

Billy smiles like a cat who’s got the cream.

Like a feline predator ready to pounce his prey.

And then, your lips meet in a messy kiss; one that’s more urgent and primal than the previous ones you shared, and you feel him gently move you towards the little, square building; the one with the shower stalls and the changing rooms and bathroom sinks you’ve been fucked against way too many times. 

This feels good, you think.

This feels familiar. 

And so, that’s how you find yourself in one of the public shower stalls, hands pressed against the sand-colored tiles while getting pounded from behind, hard.

Billy’s certainly on a mission to wreck your pussy, as his hands hold on to your hips so tightly you’re sure his fingers are going to leave bruises. It’s not like you mind, though, not at all.

“Fuck, didn’t think you’d have such a tight little cunt.” Billy groans while pistoling in and out of you relentlessly. He’s really putting all of his body strength into it and you’re not sure what will be left of you once he’s done.

You feel incredibly full to a point where it’s almost too much, almost too painful, like he’s going to split you in two and then put you back together; but not before rearranging your guts in the most impossible ways.

“That’s it, take it like the good little slut I know you are, fuck, knew from the very moment I laid my eyes on you that you would take it like this. Easy little bitch.” He curses.

You want to bite something mean back, but with the way he’s hitting that tender, spongy spot inside you, it’s hard to form a snarky reply - or any coherent words for that matter. 

You hate the way that only little broken whimpers leave your lips like helpless pleas and prayers as he keeps pounding into you. You’re completely at his mercy and he’s not giving you any, rutting into you with a rough pace. 

“Billy, Billy.” You sob, little hiccups breaking his name in two, but he just groans as his pace picks up. It’s a sound that’s deep and raspy and primal, and it has you clenching around him involuntary as another whine slips past your lips again. 

“Fuck, listen to you going stupid on my cock. Taking it so well, didn’t even have to prepare you either, could just slide into your wet little pussy. Bet it’s been drooling for me ever since we first started talking, isn’t that right?”

When there’s no immediate answer coming from you, he’s quick to take a fistful of your hair, gripping it tightly and then pulling your head back hard.

“Isn’t that right?” He snarls, voice raised and rough, yet his pounding never wavers.

But the words swirling around on your tongue won’t form into any sensible order, leaving only a gasping moan to slip past your lips as the pain from his unwavering grip on your hair shoots through your skull. 

And you love it.

God, you love it; love how your mind just goes completely blank. It’s like in that moment you don’t quite exist anymore. Not in the way you usually do, not as you lose yourself in the pain and the pleasure that’s being given and taken from you. 

“Fuck, look at you, pretty little fucked out thing, letting me use you like I please in a public shower. Anyone could just walk in here and see us. But you’d probably get off on that too, wouldn’t you?”

You can barely nod your head with the way Billy’s hand is still tangled in your hair, before he’s letting go, curling the hand around your throat instead. You feel him press himself closer to you, nibbling on your earlobe before playfully pulling on it with his teeth.

“Listen here, little slut,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin, “You said you’d take anything I’d give you, so, I’m assuming that offer still stands.”

The faint nod you manage is enough for Billy’s finger to wander once more, gripping your jaw tightly before moving your face slightly in his direction.

You’re unsure of where he’s going with this, and for a brief moment you think he might lean in for a kiss.

He does not.

Instead, his fingers dig into the sides of your cheeks, pressing your mouth open for him.

“Swallow.” He orders, and it’s the only warning you get, before you see his jaw flex, mouth moving closer to yours and then he’s spitting right into yours.

It’s like your mind’s on autopilot because you don’t even have to think about swallowing his spit; you immediately do it, almost instinctively so, and Billy’s breathy groans only deepen.

“Good obedient little girl. Fuck, fuck, don’t think I’ve ever seen someone that eager, jeez.”

He starts leaving messy open-mouthed kisses along your neck and jaw in between dirty praises, and his thrusts increase their pace again, until all you can think about is the way his cock fills you up, over and over again.

Your gasps increase with every quick rut of his hip, pushing himself deeper and deeper, and you can’t help but fuck yourself back on him with little, timid thrusts too.

“Dick’s that good, huh?” Billy observes with a condescending smile when he notices your little movements.

“B-billy,” voice shaky, eyes teary, even you’re unsure what exactly you’re begging for, and the laugh that leaves Billy’s lips is almost cruel.

“What is it, little girl?” 

His hand tightens around your throat again, yet he’s barely applying any real pressure, just gripping it in a possessive way, but that’s enough to have your mind spinning anyway. 

Billy keeps his rhythm, even when the sounds that leave your pretty lips increase. And god, do those sounds drive him absolutely wild. He loves how responsive you are, while simultaneously wearing such a fucked-out and dreamy look on your face like you’re miles away.

Billy thinks he’s about to come when his fingers wander down to lazily rub your clit and even that slight contact makes you spasm around him. 

“I know, I know,” he soothes when your whines are getting louder again, “that’s the little spot that feels real good doesn’t it.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck, and you’re so wet, so wet, baby.”

Billy can’t help but moan at the feeling of your slick that collects around his fingers, dripping out of you and tainting the outside of your pussy sinfully. 

But the movement of his rough fingers on your clit only makes you more vocal, and with the way his dick is pushing itself into you, filling you up in ways previously thought unimaginable, it’s hard not to gasp, and whine, and moan in response.

“Billy, please, please don’t stop.” You hick-up, voice breaking halfway through, and it only makes Billy’s dick twitch inside of you harder.

“Wasn’t planning on it, sweet girl,” Billy groans, “wasn’t planning on stopping until I’ve filled this filthy cunt with everything I have; because you want it, don’t you? Want me to make your pretty little pussy even messier than it already is. Gonna fill you up so good, my cum will be dripping out of you for days.”

You clench around him at the thought, and Billy laughs again as he feels you tightening around his thick length. 

“Of course, you’d like that, cum hungry little bitch, fuck.”

“Feel so full Billy,” you whine in between little gasps. 

“Yeah, well, imagine how much fuller you’ll feel once I had my fill. Once you’re actually full of me.”

And then out of nowhere he grabs one of your hands, pulling it down towards his crotch, where you two are intertwined. 

The angle is a little awkward and you don’t know where this is going exactly, until he wraps your hand around one of his balls.

“Do you feel that, sweet little slut? Feel how full I am?”

And fuck, you do, you really, really do, as Billy’s hand keeps guiding yours, kneading his heavy sack while just rutting into you harder. 

“Fuck, just like that, going to give it to you so good, and do you know what’s going to happen after that?” 

You shake your head, too fucked out and overwhelmed to even form a little ‘no’. 

“Then we’re going to put your slutty little panties back on you, walk back out there to your friends, and then we’ll see how much of an obedient girl you really are, because if you’re really good, you won’t let a drop go to waste. Keep it all in your messy little pussy of yours, where it belongs.” 

God, you have to give it up to this guy, you think. He might actually have an even filthier mouth than you do. But Billy isn’t done with his little speech, only stopping to let his tongue run a messy trail down your neck.

“But if you fail sweetheart, if I push my fingers under your little dress later and feel my cum dripping and running down your lush little thighs, I guess I’ll just have no choice but to fuck it back into you again.” 

That thought almost does it for you and you whine Billy’s name loudly.

“Shit that gets you going, huh? Probably isn’t even a punishment getting stuffed full of my cum and my cock.” 

You’re whines increase again and Billy suddenly stops his assault on your pussy, the hand that’s been previously toying with your clit, leaving, until two of his fingers are tapping against your lips.

“Open up wide for me, sweet thing,” he mumbles with a groan, and without much of a second thought, without really any thought at all, you open your mouth obediently, and Billy’s quick to slip his fingers inside. 

“Love your moans, they make me so hard, but god, you gotta be a bit more quiet.”

“’m trying,” you mumble against his digits, tongue dancing around them. They taste like you, and him, and the cigarettes you shared.

“Know you are, know you’re trying your best, but you’re also a dumb little slut who simply can’t help herself, can you. Cock so good it’s the only thing on your mind, huh?”

You’re not sure if the little moan that slips your lips in agreement can be identified as such, but Billy certainly seems to take it that way.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I can help you stay more quiet, pretty thing. Gonna keep your mouth stuffed the way I stuff your pussy; and it also gives me the opportunity to test your limits here-“

He pushes his fingers into your mouth deeper until you gag around them, and he groans at the feeling. 

“Fuck like that, like that baby, choke on my fingers while your cunt swallows my cock like the good little cocksleeve it is,fuck!”

His grith pushes into you quicker, faster, and with so much desperation now, that you feel the fire within you flare up to an almost explosive height. 

“Come on little bitch, play with your clit for me, while I wreck your pussy and your throat.”

The speed of his fingers that are currently fucking your mouth increases, mirroring the thrusts of his hips, and you find yourself gurgling and spluttering around him, yet Billy’s pace never wavers, if anything your struggles only turn him on more, and he feels himself getting closer too.

But with the way you’re playing with your clit while being stuffed so incredibly full, the pleasure inside you only heightens and you’re hurdling down towards your climax much quicker than Billy does. 

“You can come, baby,” Billy murmurs, “You can come on my cock, pretty thing.”

“Billy,” you sob, lashes thick with tears and lips quivering.

“Billy, I’m gonna-“

“I know, I know, sweet girl. Just let go for me. You’ve done so good already, just let go.” 

Billy’s voice is still rough, but there’s a soothing undertone, one that’s triggering something odd in your brain. Something warm and comforting and weirdly enough, something safe.

“Come on, baby. Be the good little slut I know you want to be. You want me to be proud of you, right? So, cum and cream on my cock, pretty bitch.”

Billy emphasized his words with even harder thrusts, his cockhead kissing your cervix repeatedly, and you know you’ll feel the bruising effects of it for the next few days at the very least. 

“Fucking slut, come now!” He orders, fingers pushing themselves as deep as they can down your throat, and you gag hard. 

But Billy doesn’t pull them out again. Instead, he leaves them there, only the tips of his fingers moving slightly, applying repeated pressure to your throat.

You gurgle his name desperately, and Billy swears he almost comes then and there as he feels both your pussy and throat spasm around him. 

The cry that leaves your lips sounds wet, and messy, and fucked out, as you come hard, back arching and thighs shaking. Your pussy’s griping him like a vice, but Billy fucks you through your high relentlessly, to a point where it’s almost cruel.

“Good girl,” he praises in between rough thrusts.

“Good fucking girl.”

His hips still slap against you with vigor, and you find yourself whining at the increasing overstimulation of it all. The weight of his fingers in your mouth, and his cock in your cunt seem suddenly twice as hard, twice as heavy, and twice as overwhelming. 

Your hips instinctively try to wiggle away from him, but Billy’s not having any of it. 

“Nuh-uh, I know it’s a lot, but you can take it, baby. Gonna let me get my fill too, remember?”

Your whines increase once more at the increasingly uncomfortable feeling, and while you try hard to be good and take it, your hips have a little mind of their own. 

“Stop it, slut!” There’s a sudden harsh slap on your ass that makes you moan out and grip around Billy’s cock even tighter.

“Fuck,” Billy rasps out at the realization “Shit, you’re probably one of those girls who actually enjoy getting slapped around during sex too. Crying because of the pleasure rather than the pain of it all, god, that’s so fucked up. You’re so fucked up, baby, and I love it.” 

The little delirious rambles that leave your mouth after that only spur Billy on more. 

“You gonna let me take it, right?” He whispers, and after the small nod that follows his words, Billy suddenly pushes you forward, shifting his weight slightly to get better leverage, until you’re completely pressed up against the cold tiles of the shower. 

"Pussy can’t run from me that way.” Billy grumbles, before moaning loudly, because this position right here is giving him an even deeper and easier access to your cunt. 

One of his hands is holding your hips in place, as the other one pushes your face against the tiles, cheeks squished against it. 

“Just let me use you, fuck, just like that.” 

He’s pressing himself flat against you, bucking up into you with no way for you to escape it. Not that you’d want to anyways, but there’s something exceptionally dirty about getting used like that. Because right now you don’t serve any other purpose than to make Billy feel good and let him fill you up.

And with the way that you’re currently pressed up against the tiles, you can’t even play with your own clit; left completely at the mercy of Billy, who’s now more concerned with chasing his own high. 

“Fuck, take it! Just fucking take it, stupid fucking whore.”  

The little gasps and squeals that escape your lips with every rut of Billy’s hips are like music to his ears. They’re addicting, the perfect mixture of sweet and filthy, and he can’t get enough.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Dumb little thing just waiting for her fill. Can’t do anything but let me use you. Use you to my liking, fuck.”

He’s getting closer, unimaginably closer, and for the first time his pace actually starts to falter.

He’s bucking into you quicker, more irregularly, and the pants that leave his lips have you clenching around him more.

You can feel his breath hot on your neck, especially since he’s hardly pulling out now, and instead keeps rutting himself deeper inside of you with desperate little thrusts.

“Fuck, gonna cum, gonna cum in your pretty little pussy and you’re gonna take it. Yeah, shit, take it just like that.” 

You feel him twitch inside of you and then he’s coming with a loud and raspy moan.

He’s coming a lot, and you can’t help but whine too, as you feel his warm spurts fill your insides. He’s still rutting up into you softly, coming and twitching and mumbling little ‘take it’s and praises under his breath.

Once he’s completely spent he just stays there for a moment, pressed against you tightly while you’re both trying to catch your breath. 

That’s until Billy slips out of you with a groan, taking a small step back. But without Billy’s body weight pressed securely against you, you find yourself in something akin to a freefall. 

“Oh shit, easy there, baby.” Billy exclaims while rushing back towards you, steading hands coming up to your sides to keep you from buckling over or folding in on yourself.

“Fuck, you’re like Bambi on ice or something,” Billy mumbles when he sees the way your legs are still shaky, and without much of a warning he simply lifts you up, bridal style.

Your mind is just now slowly floating back to its rightful place. Words coming together like small little puzzle pieces that form into thoughts and more complex feelings.

You’ve done it again, you think, but instead of triumph, there’s shame bubbling up in your stomach. And it worsens at the feeling of Billy’s lingering hands around your body, and the way he keeps talking to you gently.

This is not how this usually goes, your brain notes in surprise and something akin to wide-eyed panic. 

Wait, where is this guy taking you? 

“Billy, what-“ You can’t help the small rise in your voice, or the way you try to struggle against him, despite your energy levels being completely drained. 

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay, little girl. You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Billy tries to soothe, but he’s just making it worse.

The softness of his touch and voice feel entirely unfamiliar and unusual – so by default they also feel entirely wrong, because this is so not how this usually goes.

“Shit, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Billy’s voice is still patient and gentle when he puts you down carefully on one of the wooden benches that are provided in the bigger changing room. 

“There you go.” He murmurs, before his hand comes up to your face, thumb brushing over your cheek softly. “You can come back to me baby in your own time, it’s okay.”

There’s a warm and understanding smile on Billy’s lips, and it sends your mind into overdrive, because why is he suddenly nice after being so rough? He got what he wanted so why is he still here?

This is so not what you’re used to. It’s either you leaving right after, or them. 

Lately it’s mostly you, but you don’t normally get fucked that good, so it’s much easier to slip away once the guy’s done. And usually there’s a liberated feeling afterwards, but somehow right now you just feel dirty, and Billy’s gentleness seems entirely out of place. Guys are nice to you before sleeping with you, not afterwards, for god’s sake. 

Billy sees the irritation on your face, but he doesn’t know what’s causing it. Doesn’t know why you’re looking at him wide-eyed, like he’s grown two heads. 

“You can go now, I’m okay.” You mumble, while fidgeting and pulling down parts of your black dress, restless eyes searching the empty room for something.

“Go?” Billy whispers, slightly confused, “Why would I just go?” 

You’re still not meeting his eyes when he looks at you for clarification and something inside of him clicks.

“Oh.”

The little exclaim leaves his lips quietly, and you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by the pitying tone of voice. 

He needs to leave, you think, so you can put yourself back together again. 

You know Billy probably means good, but he’s truly just making things worse. The softness of his touch and voice just has your mind uncoiling further, like a ball of yarn that’s being carelessly played with by a kitten, not knowing about the destruction it causes.

His unsuspected gentleness is making you feel smaller and more vulnerable than you’re used to, and you hate it. You absolutely hate it.

It’s like he’s peeling away at the toughest layers that you’ve got. And how are you supposed to build yourself back up again when he keeps scratching away at your foundations within the fortress of your heart. 

God, he’s not being what you imagined him to be like at all, you notice with a frown. Especially after Heather’s warning words, you expected someone else entirely.

You expected the usual rough sex and hasty departure. That’s all he’s in for anyway. But now, he’s doting over you like you’re precious, and despite still wearing your dress and looking less fucked-out than you did mere minutes ago, you feel incredibly raw and bare. 

More raw and bare than you felt during the filthy sex you two just shared.

Why is he being nice, you think. The men you sleep with normally aren’t, and when they are you’re usually not; slipping out of their bed quickly and brushing away any questions about when they’ll see you again.

So why is he being nice.

“What?”

It’s now Billy’s turn to look at you, wide-eyed, and you realize you must have whispered your last words out loud.

Why is he being nice.

It’s a genuine question that your mind can’t comprehend; trying to come up with a reason why he would – until it finally hits you. 

“We’re not doing this again, you know.”

The whisper falls from your lips with more bite than you intended. 

“What?” 

“We’re not doing this again, so you can leave now, Billy.”

For some reason looking at Billy’s bewildered face just hurts your brain more, or maybe your heart. In moments like this, you’re hardly in tune with everything that’s going on inside of you, so you can’t quite pinpoint the current anxiousness feeling that floats through your body, seemingly unrestrained and unregulated.

You just keep yourself occupied with the task of pulling down your dress, trying to get it to cover you up more.

Your eyes still scan the room, but it’s useless. You can’t make out your panties for the life of you, even though you know they should be lying around here somewhere. 

“Watcha looking for, sweet girl?” Ignoring your previous words, Billy asks the question softly, because your troubled eyes and discomfort are hard to miss.

“Nothing,” you mumble, not looking up, head hung low as you keep fidgeting with the hem of your dress. 

“You can go now, Billy. Just leave, please.”

You don’t notice the pained look that crosses Billy’s face or the helplessness that takes over his body. 

This isn’t how his hookups usually go. He’s no Disney prince by any means, but he’s also not one to leave the girls he sleeps with high and dry, and a complete mess on a public bathroom floor.

Truth be told, that possible image of you stings more than he’d like to admit.

Strangely, it’s less the fact that you’ve fucked other men before and more the idea that you’d find yourself a crying and quivering mess afterwards on the cold tiles inside a public bathroom.

A bathroom in which anyone could just walk into and then take advantage of your situation, Billy thinks with an uncomfortable shudder, especially when you still have vulnerability written all over your features, like you do right now.

So, he’s not just going to leave you here, not when your fingers are still trembling, and your quiet little sniffles still echo through the empty room. 

Billy decides to kneel down, getting more on your level, concerned eyes desperately trying to find yours.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” He whispers, while stifling the urge to touch you; because with the way you reacted earlier while being confined in his arms he doubts that’s a good idea.

“Anything other than leaving, that is.” He hastily adds, and for once you look up at him.

Fucking finally.

But the moment of eye contact is short-lived. You avert your gaze much to quickly again, but at the very least you mumble an incredibly quiet, and timid, “My panties.” 

Of course. Billy almost groans at his stupidity. God, he can be dense sometimes. 

That also explains the endless tugging of your dress; how did he not think of this?

“Okay, okay, don’t worry. Just stay here and take deep breaths while I hunt those panties down!” He gives you a small wink, before mumbling, “I’m not getting called a panty hunter for nothing.”

You watch Billy scan your current room quickly, before rushing into the next one. But you’re still wary of his apparent niceness and supposed worry. 

“Got it!” You hear him exclaim suddenly, but it’s quickly followed by a deflated huff.

“Oh no.” 

He comes back with his jeans in one hand and your black panties in the other, but the expression on his face is apologetic.

“Look, you have every right to hate me now because I might have, uh, I might have killed your panties earlier while trying to help you get them off.”

“Okay,” He sees the way you nod, trying hard to be nonchalant about it, but the shine in your eyes is giving you away. 

That and the slight tremble of your lips. 

“But don’t worry, I have an idea, okay?”

You look up at him with questioning eyes and something akin to hope reflected in them, and Billy actively has to keep himself from reaching his hand out to wipe away the stray tears on your cheeks. 

“The solution is probably not going to be perfect, but it is a solution no less. I’ll just have to leave really quickly to get something, but I promise I’ll be back again in no time okay?”

You nod your head, trying to process his words.

“Okay, good, now, can you promise me something too?” Billy mumbles. He’s kneeling down next to you again, his rough fingers gently caressing your knuckles.

“Promise me you’ll be here when I come back again. It’s just gonna be 5 minutes but I need you to be here, okay. I need you to wait for me, can you promise me that?”

Once again, you nod your head softly, but that’s not enough of a confirmation for Billy.

“Need you to say it.” He whispers, blue eyes looking at you expectingly. 

“I’ll wait, I promise.” Your voice is hushed and tired, but Billy still picks up on it.

“Good girl.” He praises, and without really thinking about it, he leaves a chased kiss on your forehead, before getting up and slipping into his jeans quickly. He’s been wearing his red shirt the whole time, you notice, as you watch him tug it into his denim hastily.

“Be right back, I promise.” He states with a careful smile, and then he’s out of the room with quick strides.

Once he’s left, and it’s just you in the empty building, taking deep breaths suddenly feels a lot easier, and your mind feels less like it’s in a fight or flight situation. But trying to wrap your mind around whatever is currently happening seems still rather difficult.

You don’t normally react that emotional after sex, but in the rare cases that you do, there’s hardly anyone around to witness it, so the way that Billy’s dotting over you feels incredibly foreign, constricting even.

Like you’re being backed into a corner and then smothered to death. 

As you try to stand up, you have to defeatedly witness how your legs are still a little shaky.

‘Like Bambi on ice’, Billy’s words echo in your mind. He sounded so soft when he said it; so endeared, so smitten, so-

Oh no.

You have to leave, you think. You have to leave right now. 

Screw your panties and your promise, you should be out that door immediately.

Wiping your eyes angrily and clenching your fists, you try to summon all the body strength you can muster. But before you can even try to stand up again, there’s a sudden sound coming from the entrance again, one that’s quickly followed by Billy’s voice, and you freeze.

“Hey, you didn’t run like I almost expected you to.“ He states with a little, teasing smile when he makes his way back into the room, and there’s a glimmer of proudness reflected in his eyes. 

“Oh, and I got you this here.“

It’s only then that you notice him holding two pieces of fabric that are now being extended towards you. 

“Billy, what-?“ 

“I know it’s not exactly evening wear, but it should do, right?” 

It’s two pieces of clothing; a white shirt and red swimming trunks.

“It’s going to be a bit of a loose fit, but you’ll probably look way cuter in those than I do.” Billy mumbles, before adding quickly, “Don’t worry, though, I didn’t wear them or anything! Those are just my backup clothes for, uh, you know, being a lifeguard.”

“You’re a lifeguard?” You inquire, and Billy nods, cheeks tinted slightly red. 

“Yes! I mean i-it’s not all I do, I also work as a mechanic downtown, but the early morning shifts are rather tame here at the beach and money’s tight so…“ He drifts off, hand rubbing some spot on his neck repeatedly. 

“Billy that-that’s nice but I can’t take those.” You state, trying to give the clothes back to him. 

“Why not?” 

“How will you get them back afterwards?” 

“Well, when we see each other again, obviously. You can just drop by at the little lifeguard station tomorrow, or at the next bonfire when-” 

“But Billy, that’s not going to happen.” 

“What?” 

“I’m not- we’re not going to see each other again like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Fucking.” You state, voice somehow colder now.

You take another breath, forcing your voice to come out devoid of any emotions.

“I don’t make the same mistake twice, Billy. So, you can really keep those.”

Standing up with a lot more determination, you push his clothes gently against his chest. Your fingers are still trembling, but you hope he doesn’t notice it.

“Mistake?” Billy whispers, trying to wrap his mind around what’s currently going on. 

“You seem like a good guy, Billy.” Your voice is a lot softer now, almost hushed. “But I’m not going to break my own rules for you. So, take care.” 

Standing up on your tiptoes, you lean in a little closer, until he feels your lush lips pressed against his cheek. It’s only for a split second, but he still feels like he’s being struck by lightning. He can’t move, or react, or do anything other than stand there frozen, for the briefest of moments. 

Yet it’s still long enough for you to slip through the room, out the door, and then you’re gone. 

“Hey, wait-“

When Billy finally manages to turn around, he finds himself calling your name repeatedly, but it’s too late. By the time he’s at the entrance door of the little building, you’re nowhere in sight.

He finds himself cursing as he scans the beach for even the smallest, tiniest signs of you, but it’s no use. Nighttime has rolled around and overtaken absolutely everything by now, and the faint, warm light of the lamps above are hardly any help in beating the surrounding darkness into submission. 

Billy hates how worry bubbles up inside of him; eats his insides alive, and makes him feel completely sick.

Hates how his heart aches slightly.

Fuck, he should have listened to Tommy when he said that he should stay far, far away from you.

He had been quick to notice Billy’s curious gaze earlier, after the new boy had witnessed the sweetest laugh he’s ever heard. 

Your laugh.

“Fuck, don’t even think about it. She’s like the worst little bitch around.” Tommy had stated after taking a big gulp from his beer, but Billy had been unconvinced.

You looked so sweet, so joyful, so kind. He couldn’t keep his eyes from watching you playfight with Heather, as she was tickling you because of some silly comment you made. 

There was something in your eyes, in your laugh, in the movement of your body. 

And he was intrigued. 

“No, dude, believe me. I’ve seen her make grown man cry and shit. She’s like a fucking sex siren or something. You know that song, uh, Maneater?”

Now Tommy’s mumbling the worst rendition of Maneater Billy’s ever heard, and that song’s already complete shit to begin with in his books, so imagine his pain. 

“Uh, yeah, that song definitely sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, well, she is that. Whatever Daryl Oates was singing about, that’s her through and through.”

Billy shakes his head, stifling his urge to correct Tommy on his wrong music trivia. But above all, Billy doesn’t believe a single word coming out of that guy’s mouth.

He didn’t believe it then, and he didn’t believe it when he chatted you up at the bar either, but things slowly started to change when the two of you found yourselves talking down by the beach.

There was something addicting in your little smiles, and laughs, and the challenging fire in your eyes, waiting for him to talk back. There was something in the way you would twirl around light-heartedly, between ocean waves, with no care in the world.

It was in the way you seemed free. 

And it was also in the way that you’d kiss him and subsequently tugged at his heart, uh no, hair, softly. 

And he definitely believed Tommy’s words when he found himself sheeted deep inside of you. He’s never had a pussy feel that good around him, never heard whines that sweet and filthy. Never thought his name could sound so good falling from someone else’s lips.

He was in deep, literally. And he knew that one fuck simply wouldn’t be enough. One night like this certainly wasn’t, and maybe nothing ever would, but he had to see you again, had to at least try to quench his thirst for you; craving your company like a touched starved fool. Addicted to your little laughs, and your moans, and the way you could be saccharine sweet in one moment, and challenging in the next.

Then, unsuspectedly, you ended up almost breaking down on the cold shower floor, and something else kicked up deep inside of him. Something protective and concerned, because behind your carefree attitude was someone, really, really hurt, and he got small glimpses of that.

Glimpses that he could relate to, if he’s being really honest.

Yet unfortunately his tender words and touches had the complete opposite effect on you.

He still doesn’t understands why. Doesn’t understand why your distress would seemingly worsen after he tried to help.

And now you were gone, leaving him with many questions, no answers, and a slightly aching heart. 

Billy hates how he can already hear Tommy’s smug “Told you so.” And he doesn’t want to be faced with that at all. So, going back to the bonfire is a big no for him, until the thought that you could have gone there crosses his mind, and suddenly he’s heading in that direction hastily.

He knows it’s probably wishful thinking, but that doesn’t stop the small spark of hope from blooming up somewhere deep inside his chest, at the mere idea, that maybe, maybe he 'll see you again.

He just wants to make sure you’re okay, and make clear that he didn’t mean to scare you away. Whatever it was that had you this terrified and worried, he’s sure he could find a solution. Find a solution and maybe make you stay.

But once Billy reaches the gathering at the bonfire again, he has to confront the fact that it was all for nothing, cause you’re not there.

The disappointment seems like a cruel way to extinguish the little flames of hope that have been flickering away in his chest, and he feels physically deflated.

Some of your friends are still lingering around, though. He spots Tommy first, who just gives him a pitying glance, when he notices Billy’s restless eyes wander over the current scene, obviously scanning the crowd, looking for someone. Heather’s just giving him a wary side-eye, looking like she’d kill him in his sleep if she could. Not sure what her problem is, Billy thinks.

Unfortunately, he can’t make out Argyle anywhere for the live of him, so he decides to head home for good this time.

Getting black out drunk, trying to forget that this night ever happened might be better achieved at his own little place anyways.

And so, just like you, he leaves hastily into the night, thoughts occupied only by one specific person. 

You don’t go to the next few outings that come up.

Metaphorically speaking, you’re still licking and tending to your wounds.

The last person you want to see is Billy, even when he’s also the only person on your mind.

You don’t know why, or what exactly went wrong during your hook-up with him, that left you in the emotional turmoil you ended up finding yourself in. But somehow you did, and somehow that didn’t scare him away, which is hard to wrap your mind around.

The only sensible answer your brain can come up with, is that he had just been kind to you out of pity, or because he wanted to get on your good side, maybe, just so he could fuck you again.

Or maybe, he’s just one of those guys with a savior complex. 

You fucked your fair share of those; semi-decent guys, who thought that if they tried hard enough, they might be able to domesticate you like a goddamn cat.

As if a stable relationship and some second-hand love, handed down to you in sizes that never fit – always swallowing you whole or feeling to tight – are going to fix your issues. 

Whatever. 

You try not to think about it too much.

Try not to let Billy’s concerned eyes come up in memory too often. Try not to feel the embarrassment of having fallen apart in front of him. Try not to feel anything, really. 

The sex normally helps to negate that particular issue, the numbing pounding of some stranger’s cock the perfect distraction to the emotional storm swirling around inside of you most of the time.

But you’re not even in the mood for that right now.

And so, you find yourself curled up in bed for a couple of days, ignoring the ringing of your phone and the repeated knocks on your door. It’s probably Heather, or Argyle, or god forbid Tommy.

But you ignore them all, turning around in your sheets instead, trying to suppress the memories of Billy.

Trying to suppress the pretty eyes of a certain stranger, who showed you a little sliver of compassion at the worst possible time, and now you fear that this will haunt you forever.

And when you’re not fighting your mind to stop thinking, and feeling, and wishing for Billy to just hold you, you’re taken by a dreamless, void-like, and utterly restless sleep.

It’s roughly two weeks later, when you’re back at the beach, back at the bonfire, and back in some pretty boy’s arms. His name is Jake or Jason or maybe it’s John? You’re not entirely sure, and you don’t really care enough to find out .

You’re giggling softly at one of his jokes, while giving him the most innocent eyes you can muster, but inside of you, something ugly is clawing to get its fix.

And you’re on your way to get it 15 minutes later, when you’re both stumbling towards the building with the empty shower stalls once again. The déjà vu doesn’t hit you immediately, and you’re still laughing at something pretty boy-what’s-his-name said, when your eyes find someone else’s in the distance. 

Billy’s. 

He’s leaning against the bar counter, sipping a can of beer while watching you closely, and suddenly you feel like you’re drowning. 

What is he doing here? You think. It’s a stupid question, and you know that. You have no right to be upset by his presence, and he’s told you he works at the beach too, so he probably lives nearby anyway and-

There are lips now at your neck that serve as a welcomed distraction, and you try not to let it remind you of the last time you stumbled through those doors.

But it’s different this time, and you ignore the shift in your heart when you watch Billy avert his eyes, jaw clenched and hands tightening around his beer can.

Whatever. You don’t care.

The sex ends up being mediocre at best, and you have to edge the guy on repeatedly to get him to roughen you up a bit more; to numb out all of your pain with the quick strokes of his cock. He finishes before you do, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary, and of course he doesn’t even notice. 

A Fool.

A simple, careless fool.

But it’s okay because you’ve gotten your main fix already. The storm brooding within you feels a lot calmer now, and you get to bask in the afterglow of your achievement.

The guy fulfilled his mediocre purpose, yet he’s hesitant to leave you alone. He almost follows you around like a lost puppy, as you smooth out your skirt and walk up to one of the mirrors.

You find yourself having to revert to a few quick lies; promising him that, sure you’ll meet him at the bonfire most definitely again. You just really need some alone-time to fix your smudged make-up in peace. 

The lies fall from your lips perfectly, in promises already broken before they drip from your mouth in the warm light of the setting sun that’s breaking through one of the fogged-up windows. 

As usual, he eats the lies up like a starved dog might eat a treat, and you smile at his eager eyes, and the hopefulness written all over his features.

Stupid little fool, you think, as you watch him leave. He even has the audacity to turn around towards you again with a little wave, and you stifle the urge to roll your eyes. Pathetic, you think while giving him one of your sweetest smiles.

You weren’t lying about wanting to quickly clean yourself up, though. Scrubbing the persistent mascara stains off from both of your cheeks, and applying a new layer of lip gloss.

Once you look less like the mess you feel, you make your way across the beach, only this time into the opposite direction of the bonfire, until you’ve found a spot that looks private enough for your liking. You let yourself sink into the sand with a sigh, and it doesn’t take long for you to nurse another one of your joints while gazing out towards the endless sea.

For the first time since your hook-up with Billy, you actually feel somewhat good again, as a weird peacefulness takes hold of your heart. Some might call it numbness, but you indulge in it, nevertheless – that is until a raspy voice comes up from behind you.

“Didn’t think I’d get to see you again, Cinderella.” 

Billy. 

You hate how your heartrate picks up at the roughness of his voice, of his presence, of his scent. 

“Had hoped I didn’t get to see you again either.” You retort, gaze still stubbornly fixed on the ocean in front of you. 

Billy just huffs, before you hear him sitting down next to you. He’s not as close as he was last time around, keeping some distance between you two. If for your sake, or for his, you’re not sure.

“So, you really meant it when you said you don’t do the same mistake twice, huh?” 

“It’s nothing personal, I just wanna have fun.” 

“Is that what you’re having?” He questions, and despite his simple words, you feel them hit a complicated nerve.

It’s like he’s trying to call your bluff. 

“What is it to you?” You deflect while still refusing to look at him, because you’re not quite sure what will happen if you do. 

“Just curious, really.” 

There’s a moment of silence, safe for the gentle rush of the ocean. It’s an ethereal sound, akin to that of a lullaby, and it somehow reminds you of your mom. 

“Was he worth it?” Billy’s voice calls you out of your thought, and back to the harsh reality again. 

“What?” 

“The guy you slept with, was he worth it?” 

“That’s what you want to know about? Okay.” You mumble more to yourself than anything, and then, after another few beats of silence you ask, “Was he worth what, Billy?” 

That renders the guy next to you silent. 

You two stay like that for a while; quiet, deep in thought, trying to make sense of the other.

Billy wants to ask if you’re alright, but he also doesn’t want to seem like he cares too much, or at all, really. Even though he does. He does care.

Billy tries to think of something that will make you stay. Not for good, but for the moment.

Something that will make you see that he means no harm and comes in peace, even though your hasty departure two weeks ago still stings. So does the fact that you’ve been avoiding him ever since, or having to see you with another guy.

He now truly knows what Tommy was talking about. Knows that this is just a game for you. But he’s vary and unsure of your motives. He doubts however, that you’d tell him if he asked. 

Your mind is currently also in some quiet overdrive, trying to figure out what to say, but coming up empty again.

There are words you thought about saying to him; thoughts you’ve never said out loud to anyone; but Billy’s witnessed you when you were at your smallest and most vulnerable already, and he didn’t run. He didn’t mock you; he didn’t leave.

And while you’re still vary of his motives, because most men you know usually aren’t nice to women out of their kindness in their hearts and their endless empathy for humankind, you secretly hope that Billy might be different.

It’s wishful thinking at its worst, but you thought about giving him an explanation within the last two weeks more times than you want to admit.

This whole situation can’t really spiral down any further, and you’ve let your guards down around him once already. Sure, it was involuntarily, but still; that has to count for something. 

“I didn’t mean to be a bitch.” Your words come out hushed and hasty, but they’re earnest. 

“You need to know that I didn’t mean to hurt you, if I did, that is. I know you meant good, probably, but I don’t need any pity, or help, or saving.”

Billy’s quiet for a moment, as he contemplates your words. He doesn’t try to hide his surprise at your admissions; doesn’t think he could if he tried. 

“I never pitied you, and I never thought you needed saving either, but there’s no shame in needing help from time to time.”

You’re both silent now, letting the words spoken and the words unspoken sit in between you in the warm sand. 

For some reason you want him to stick around, want to get to know him more, but even just that quiet admission seems endlessly scary.

You shouldn’t feel this attached to a guy you barely know and fucked once. 

But unbeknownst to you Billy feels the exact same way, and there are words laying on the tip of his tongue, almost folded neatly into a simple question that he’s too scared to ask.

But then he reminds himself that he doesn’t really have anything to lose. You could just leave regardless of the things that are about to fall from his lips. 

It’s a simple ask and it’s a bit embarrassing how worked up he’s getting over this, but he just tries to tell himself that the worst you can do is laugh and leave; and you might even do that without his proposition.

He repeats the words in his head, trying to make them sound nonchalant. Trying to make them sound like his heart isn’t in it, despite the fact that it’s right there, on the tip of his tongue, ready to tumble out and into your lap at the mere sight of you.

“So, what do you say, are you up for another joint and a slushy?”

The words fall out of his mouth, fast and jumbled, and not quite as detached and casual as he’d hoped. Still, you’re not yet on your feet and running away like last time. Instead, there’s surprise swimming in your eyes, but you cover it up quickly with a teasing smile.

“Joint and a slushy? Billy you’re spoiling me.”

You joke lightly, but inside of you is a new storm brewing. Because if you say yes, it’s going to be completely uncharted new territory. 

And you want to say ‘yes’, but there’s the need to bark ‘no’.

Billy can see the dilemma in your eyes, the unsureness, the fear, and maybe, just maybe, some hidden layers of longing.

But maybe he just sees what he wishes to see.

What he wants to see.

The things that are being reflected in his eyes, too.

“Billy, I-“

“I know, you won’t be breaking your rules for me. You’ve already established that previously, remember? But we don’t have to repeat any of that, you know. We can just talk, and smoke and maybe dance to Andy Gibs a bit more.”

The smile on his face is playful, almost nudging, and you can’t help but mirror it, despite the internal battle that’s still taking place within you.

If you do this, a voice warns, this will be your downfall. You’re going to get attached and then you’re going to get hurt. And where’s the fun in that, huh? 

But Billy’s also the most fun you’ve ever had in the guys you’ve hooked up with, and so, throwing all your apprehensions and cautions into the windy sea, you watch them drown, hoping dearly that their ghosts and warnings won’t come back to haunt you later.

“Fuck it, why not.” You mumble, and Billy beams like the distant bar lights that are still shining strong.

“You want your usual order, then?”

Things develop from there in a rather unusual way, and with the passing weeks you start to actually consider Billy somewhat of a friend. Kind of. Almost. Unexpectedly so.

At first, you two just start to hang out more during the beachy get-togethers; sneaking away to get high and on each other’s nerves. Though Heather doesn’t quite believe you when you say you two are just talking – you don’t really blame her, you wouldn’t believe it either, if you didn’t bear witness to it every other night.

But it really is just talks.

Talks, and joints, and slushies, and lazy gazes into the night sky, and sometimes, if you’re particularly brave, prolonged ones into each other’s eyes.

But you try not to think about the meaning of those too often. 

Billy’s also turned out to be quite opinionated, not that you’re surprised by that discovery; but it definitely serves as inspiration for a lot of arguments, bickering, and disbelieving gasps when the other person says something particularly offensive.

Like when you told Billy that the best Queen album is obviously A Day at the Races, and he audibly scoffed, because how dare you? The only right and acceptable answer is News of the World, and you’d have to be musically on the level of a jellyfish to think differently.

“God, you’re so lucky you’re pretty and fun, otherwise I would most certainly revalue our friendship right now.” Billy had said in that moment, before passing the joint back to you, just as you watched him exhale the smoke into the starry night.

You tried really hard not to think about that night when you were on the receiving end of that smoke, inhaling it instead of the fresh august air.

But Billy keeps true to his promise to not try any ‘funny business’, and you haven’t fucked since that one night almost a month ago.

There’re still men you hook up with, of course. After all, that kind of an itch doesn’t just go away, but it’s a little less frequent now, since on most bonfire nights you seek out Billy’s company instead.

It’s weird, because you haven’t been this close to another person; haven’t felt this close to another person, in a long time. In forever maybe.

But you try not to think about that either; brushing it all away like Heather’s worried glances when she watches you two vanish from the crowds, to go somewhere more ‘private’.

It’s none of her business anyways, you tell yourself, and all of her repeated warnings just continue to fall on deaf ears.

It’s not like you don’t appreciate Heather, or the friendship you two share, but you do think she’s got it all wrong when it comes to Billy.

Because Billy is, as far as you’re concerned, none of the things she kept warning you about. During your weeks on the beach, you’ve never seen him get angry or violent.

Heated maybe, sometimes, but never terrifyingly so. And at this point you wonder if you and Heather are even talking about the same guy at all, really.

But you get your first glimpses of what she might have been talking about a few weeks later at some guys house party.

You’d arrived there in your usual late fashion, and initially you didn’t even think Billy would show up, because those kind of parties aren’t quite his scene. There’s new wave music being blasted from some rather expensive stereo, and that alone would be a reason for Billy to turn around and leave again quickly, huffing and puffing complains about the beyond questionable music choices. 

You would know. You’ve witnessed it by now at least a couple of times. After all, trying to get Billy to stay at a small house party while Adam and the Ants was playing in the background turned out to be quite the challenge just a few days ago. 

So, you didn’t think he would show up to this party either. Or if he did he would have left again immediately, especially with the way that this currently is the third Spandau Ballet song that’s rumbling through the speakers.

It’s To Cut a Long Story Short, and you’ve been looking for Heather ever since it started, cause it’s normally a tune you both quite enjoy dancing to. 

There are some loud voices coming from the kitchen, and knowing Heather, you instinctively move towards the apparent commotion.

She’s the life of the party in both, the best and the worst ways, but instead of your best friend you find something completely different in the kitchen.

It’s a fight. 

It’s a fight, and it must have just started recently because there’s hardly anyone rushing in to break it apart yet.

There’s too many people around for you to see who it is, or what it’s about, but you can certainly hear the grunting, and the punches, and the way a low growl of a familiar voice drawls, “You wanna say that again, fucker?! Come on, say it again!” The silence that follows is deafening and the rough voice huffs, “That’s what I thought you little bitch!”

And it takes a second to hit you fully, but when it does, it hits you hard, almost as hard as the last punch that had the crowd murmuring little surprised ohh‘s and ahh‘s. 

It’s Billy. 

Your assumption turned realization only solidifies when people start whispering once they notice your presence, and you feel like they’re in on something that you’re not. 

But you don’t let that deter you as you try to push past all the people to get to the man your heart keeps worrying about with every added harsh sound, and the rustling of clothes as two shapes wrestle on the kitchen floor.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” Somebody finally says it.

It’s a tall dude with glasses who’s stepping out of the crowd, but neither Billy nor the other guy seem to care.

Still, that man’s words are enough for other people to try stepping in too, halfhearted hands gripping Billy to get him off the guy he’s been towering over, raining punches down repeatedly. 

But as soon as he’s up, and the other guy is also semi-stable on his feet, there’s a bloody grin spreading across the stranger’s face before spitting, “Looks like your whore even came to your rescue.”

The nod in your direction is unmistakable, and Billy’s eyes flicker over to you only briefly before he’s pouncing on the guy again, and this time the sound of the heavy punch that follows rings in your ears for a lot longer.

They’re back on the floor again quickly but not without the sound of glass breaking and you shiver, panic bubbling up inside of you.

“Don’t. Fucking. Call. Her. That.”

The words are each accentuated with the sound of unmistakable hits, and now people are more desperate to break the two apart.

There end up being three guys that have to restrain Billy, and two guys who try to keep the other culprit both in line and somewhat steady on his feet.

Yet it’s hardly working, as Billy keeps struggling, trying to jump the other man again, and you can see how the guys holding him back are quite literally at their limit.

You finally manage to squeeze past the last few people in front of you, making your way up to Billy. You don’t really think as you step in, moving into his eyesight and coming up before him.

You call his name repeatedly, but at first he seems like he’s so lost in his rage, that he doesn’t even register you.

It’s almost as if he’s in some kind of trance, chest heaving with quick breaths, and his eyes still blazing daggers at the guy who looks a lot worse for wear. It’s not like Billy got out of the fight unharmed though, his knuckles are bloody and split, you can’t help but notice with a frown, and there’s a deep cut on one of his cheekbones that looks more than a little painful.

His lips are also bleeding and there are bruises already forming around his temple too.

Still, he looks a lot better than the other guy, who can barely keep himself upright at this point. 

“Billy.” Your voice is as soft as the apprehensive touch of your fingers that come to rest on the upper part of his chest.

You can feel his thundering heart underneath your fingertips, rumbling away beneath his warm skin.

“Billy, stop.” You whisper, voice gentle, but the urgency in your eyes is hard to miss.

You instinctively cup his cheeks, mindful of the cuts and bruises, but you need him to look at you – need him to come back to you from whatever plane he’s still on.

You’re not sure if it’s your voice or the careful touch that makes him break free from whatever spell he’s been under. But when he finally does, the sigh of relief that leaves your heart is almost audible, as his eyes trail back to yours. 

“Hey, Cinderella.” His voice is low and rough, and you wince at both, the way the cut on his lip moves with each word, and how he’s very clearly intoxicated, breath stained with the smell of alcohol and weed. 

“Billy,” your voice is deflated, almost disappointed, and it wipes the growing smirk right off his face.

He looks almost a little hurt, like he didn’t expect your reaction to be that.

“You’re mad at me?” He mumbles, voice toying between a question and a statement. 

“Let’s just get out of here.” You offer, ignoring his previous words, and taking one of his hands instead, fingers intertwining, before tugging on it gently. 

“Okay?” You question, eyes searching Billy’s for an answer.

Billy huffs while puffing out his chest, but he’s calmed down enough now to follow you without much fuss as you make a beeline for one of the bathrooms. 

Once you two arrive at your destination, you’re quick to lock the door behind you, after making Billy sit down on the closed toilet seat. 

With your back turned, and a little space between you, you take a shaky breath to steady yourself, the emotions inside of you still running wild, before turning around, heat simmering in your eyes.

“What the fuck was that about?” You bite, and Billy looks like a kicked puppy for a brief second before turning defensive. 

“What?”

He can’t believe the tone of your voice after what he’s done for you, and the furious look in your eyes has him sobering up quite a bit.

“You heard me just right, Hargrove.”

Looking at him expectantly, you wait for an answer, your left foot tapping irregular beats on the white bathroom tiles impatiently. 

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Billy huffs, “he fucking deserved it, and I’m not going to apologize for something I actually still stand behind!”

“I’m not asking you to apologize, I’m asking you to explain it to me.” You shoot back, and Billy crosses his arms, anger rising in his eyes now as well.

How dare you make him the culprit of the night, like he’s the bad guy and not the man who- 

“You weren’t there.” Billy defends himself, his heated gaze turning towards his bloody knuckles. “He said some really nasty shit about you, and I was not about to let him get away with that, alright?”

“What kind of shit?” You question, and Billy’s eyes turn somewhat softer when they take in your form again. 

“Don’t make me repeat the things he said, Cinderella,” he whispers, “but it was completely uncalled for, called you a slut and every degrading thing under the sun he could fucking think of.” 

You sigh, because this is nothing new to you, but apparently the same can’t be said for Billy. 

“Billy,” you mumble, voice gentler now and tinted with some understanding, “guys call me that all the time, okay?”

“What, and you just let them?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m there to witness it most of the time, and it’s not like they’re entirely wrong either. I’m not exactly known to be the personification of virgin Mary, now am I?”

“Yeah, well, maybe not, but that still doesn’t give that shithead the right to be judgmental about it! Who is he to question the choices you make anyway? And what was I supposed to do, just listen and laugh?” 

There’s a quietness taking over the room for the first time tonight, except for the loud music that’s still booming through the apartment, drifting into the space between you.

“I care about you, alright. And I’m not going to let him walk all over you, even if it’s just with some fucking words. You’re my friend, so, sorry for giving a shit.”

Billy tries to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s mostly hurt swimming in his eyes when he gazes back up at you, and something inside of you shifts. 

“Billy,” you whisper, because the growing realization that he might have actually done this for you, rather than himself, settles in your mind slowly.

“You actually picked this fight for me?” Your voice is so hushed, it might as well be nothing but hot air leaving your mouth right now.

“Well, who else would I pick a fucking fight for?”

“I thought,” you mumble, feet shuffling nervously on white tiles, “I thought you just picked the fight for your ego.”

“What?”

“Well, you know. The guy probably said something about how you’re seemingly with me, a slut, and the implication of what exactly that says about you is what drove you over the edge.”

“Wait, you think I got my knuckles bloody because some prick thinks I might be settling for 'damaged goods'? Is that why you’re so angry? You think I broke that guy’s nose over some stupid ego shit?”

“I’m sure you broke a guys nose for less before.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Huh, doesn’t sound like nothing to me. If you have something to say just say it.”

Billy’s voice drops dangerously low before huffing, “Come on, you weren’t that quiet when I fucked you stupid, so don’t go all docile on me now.”

“I’m not.”

“Right.”

“Right, and fuck you.”

“Oh, Getting the big guns out now, are we?”

“Fuck off Billy, I’m not gonna pick a fight with you.”

“Weird, could have fooled me.”

You two are standing awfully close by now, with Billy having jumped up from his seat a while ago, eyes angry, and chest heaving. 

“You can’t blame me for thinking this is just the usual shit.”

“What usual shit?”

There’s a heavy sigh that’s leaving your lips, but instead of an answer your hands come up to Billy’s shoulders again, pushing him back towards the toilet seat. 

“I don’t want to have this discussion right now. It doesn’t matter anyway. What’s done is done. Just don’t pick a fight like that again, okay? It’s not worth it, getting hurt like this.”

It’s not worth it getting hurt for me, you think. 

But Billy huffs, far from ready to let this go yet, but admitting defeat once he sees the tired look in your eyes. 

As he’s settled down again, you quickly go through the bathroom cabins, searching for something. 

“Watcha looking for?” Billy’s voice seems less on edge now, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“A fucking first aid kit, most responsible adults have something akin to that in their bathroom or kitchen space.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, what do you want me to say to that, Billy?”

There’s the hint smile playing on your lips as Billy huffs with fake offense, and when you look back at your friend he’s mirroring your little smile, blue eyes bright and fixed on you with a steadiness that makes your heart sway. 

Shaking your head to get the lingering thoughts and feelings out, you try to focus back on the task at hand, until you finally find what you’ve been looking for all along. 

“Ha! Got it! I fucking new it; see!”

You hold up the little box proudly, and Billy can’t help but think that you look utterly adorable while doing so. 

“You gonna nurse me back to health, yeah?”

“You rather want to get this shit infected, Hargrove?”

Billy just mumbles a quiet, “It’s not that bad.” But he still makes space for you to stand in between his legs while you put down the box carefully on the bathroom sink beside you. 

And as your eyes come back to rest on Billy, taking in the toll of his injuries, the unpleasant feeling of guilt keeps rising in your chest, manifesting as an ugly lump in your throat. 

He got hurt because of you, you think, and you can’t help but feel like this is all your fault.

It’s not surprising that people talk, not when it’s so out of character for you to hang out with a guy more than once; and you’re sure something similar can be said for Billy, too. So, of course, people get ideas, convinced that they know exactly what’s going on. 

However, you don’t really care, and you foolishly assumed that Billy wouldn’t either, but apparently he does care; even if it’s just a little bit.

“Listen, I-“

You’re not sure how you should phrase the next words that threaten to tumble out of your mouth, without admitting that you also care quite a bit about Billy.

Without admitting that you were scared for his safety just minutes ago.

“I, uh, appreciate what you did, Billy, but please don’t do something like this again, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Your voice is mumbled, almost as if your words are stumbling over each other, because each one wants to move past your lips first and all at once. 

Your hand brushes against his cheeks softly, before tilting his head up, so you can look at him better. 

“I care about you too, Billy. And there are things worth getting hurt over but some guy calling me a slut isn’t one of them, I promise.”

His blue eyes keep softening with each admission, and both of his hands come up to your hips carefully, if to steady you or himself, you don’t know; but the gentle caress of his thumb over the smooth, silky dress you’re currently wearing does have a comforting notion, even if it’s a slightly foreign one. 

“I wasn’t really thinking,” Billy whispers, “but I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just trying to look out for you. And I don’t wanna promise you that this will never happen again because…”

Billy doesn’t finish the sentence; he doesn’t have to; you already know what he’s implying.

He can’t promise you no more physical fights without the fear of breaking it again. 

Can’t promise it because he’s just as reactionary as you, and anger is a default setting that’s hard to curb and even harder to swallow down.

“It’s enough for me Billy if you just try. Try not to pick those fights again for me, okay?” 

“Got it, Cinderella.” Billy teases, voice a little lighter, and the smile you two exchange has your heart fluttering in your chest rapidly. 

Traitor. 

As you pick out the necessary tools to mend Billy’s cuts and bruises, the guy in question watches you with emotions unsaid swirling around in his chest. His heart like thunder, illuminated up by the mere sight of you like lightning in a darkened sky.

He wants to pull you into his lap and kiss the worried frown right off your face, but he knows he can’t; knows he shouldn’t. Yet it doesn’t make the longing reaching out in his chest any less intense. 

“Okay, this is going to sting, I’m afraid.“

Your voice calls Billy back to the current moment, and his head spins from the mere compassion swimming in your eyes, as they come to rest on his injuries again.

“‘S Alright,” he mumbles, unsure of where to look or how to feel. 

You dab the small cloth soaked in disinfectant on the smaller cuts first, and Billy tries not to notice how out of character this feels for him. How foreign it feels to have someone take care of him like that, tending to his wounds with such utterly gentle touches and hushed little soothing whispers. 

He’s also not used to being witnessed like this - not after his father’s beatings and not after the physical fights he would get himself into as a way to cope; to feel something or nothing at all. 

Sometimes, once in a blue moon, his little sister Max would give him a helping hand, when his fingers wouldn’t stop shaking and the cuts wouldn’t stop bleeding and the mess in the bathroom was too much to take care of all by himself.

But even then there were walls build up, tall and strong, between him and the little redhead. Walls that no sibling bond could ever break through, or at least not the dysfunctional sibling bond they were cursed with.

And Billy hated to be witnessed like that - a broken and bloody and teary-eyed mess. Vulnerable, and raw, and everything he didn’t want his little sister to see him as.

Yet even in those situations he craved the comfort, the help, the signs, and the illusions of somebody caring enough to take care of him. 

And he always hated himself the most for that. 

But now, he’s finds himself here with you in some stranger’s bathroom, as you clean his wounds with a tenderness that has Billy feeling beyond choked up.

There’s a lump the size of the earth stuck in his throat as he tries not to drown in the overwhelming feelings of it all.

As he tries hard to fight the tears back that threaten to spill with every added crumb of gentleness that you grant him, completely clueless to its significance, or the way it makes his head and heart turn around themselves.

But like usually, the fight against his tears is the hardest fight of all; one he just can’t seem to win, try as he might. 

Unfortunately, you notice his watery eyes immediately, and it makes you halt in your movements for the briefest of moments. 

“I know, I know,” you whisper soothingly, “this cut must sting a lot, but I’m almost done here, Billy.”

And that’s it, something inside Billy breaks, and he tries shutting his eyes quick and tightly as not to let anything slip out; not a tear and not a shard of vulnerability - but it’s too late. 

He’s crying again.

“Oh, Billy, no.”

The worry in your voice only makes Billy cry harder as he shakes his head vigorously, trying to get you to back off. 

“What’s wrong, Billy?”

Your hand coming up to his cheek is soft and careful, as you try to get him to look at you fully. 

His eyes are still pressed closely together, but that doesn’t stop the tears from running down his freckled cheeks.

At first you think that he’s more hurt than he initially led on - at least physically speaking, but when you ask him about it he just shakes his head once more.

“’m fine,” he mumbles, “‘s just a lot.” 

You, on the other hand, are unsure of what he’s talking about, or what you should be doing now exactly. You don’t want to overstep any boundaries, but you also want to help him, in any way you can.

You doubt however, that if you’d ask him about what he needs, he’d give you an honest answer. So, you do the only sensible thing you can think of; hugging him closely.

At first, Billy goes completely stiff as you curl up on his lap unceremoniously, before guiding his face into the crook of your neck, words hushed, and soothing. 

You keep holding him, promising him to not let go, and at one point Billy’s arms come around you tightly, too, clinging to you like a lost and exhausted swimmer might cling to a lifeline. 

“Shh, Billy, it’s alright. It’s alright, you can cry it out, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” 

Your understanding words only make him cry harder, but you assume that this is just what he needs right now; or at least you hope it is.

One of your hands keeps playing with the curls on the back of his neck, fingers tracing patterns on the sliver of skin that’s exposed between his hair and the collar of his shirt.

You can still feel his shoulders shake; hear his muffled sniffles and sobs that break through the otherwise quietness of the bathroom space. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when his crying starts quieting down, and the first words that leave Billy’s lips are an embarrassed, “I’m sorry,” which you shoot down immediately. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, and you almost think you can feel Billy shiver.

“You’ve seen me cry, I’ve seen you cry, guess we’re even now, Billy.”

There’s a choked laugh coming from the man in question, before he mumbles, “Guess we’re both a little fucked up, huh?”

“I don’t think that there’s anything fucked up about you crying, Billy.”

“You would if you knew why.”

“You wanna talk about it then?” 

But Billy just shakes his head, fluffy curls tickling the side of your face, as he’s still hiding away in the nape of your neck. 

“I’d rather not.” 

“Do you still want me to treat the rest of your cuts and bruises?” 

The little nod that follows is only faint, but since it’s directly against your skin, you manage to pick it up easily. 

“Just one more minute, okay?” 

His voice sounds timid when the question falls from his lips, and all you can do is pull him even closer, before giving him a little nod of your own.

“Of course. We can stay like this as long as you need.”

That’s impossible, Billy thinks, because there’s no way you’d let him stay in your arms for eternity - but he likes the idea, the illusion, that you might care enough about him to take care of him like that.

After the events of the party, there’s something between you two that shifted; something that made you two grow even closer and tighter.

Maybe it really is the fact that you’ve both witnessed the other breaking down and crying; maybe it’s the vulnerability of it all or something else entirely.

Either way, the two of you are almost completely inseparable at any outing now, and you even start hanging out outside of parties and beach gatherings.

Billy takes you out to eat every Friday night, and you start bringing him breakfast at least two times a week to his early morning lifeguard shifts, when the sun is only slowly starting to break through the veil of the night.

You two usually sit there next to each other, on the old, wooden steps of the tiny lifeguard house, sharing smokes and donuts and little memories while the sun rises up.

The part-time job you’ve recently started at a local diner certainly helps with keeping the breakfast choices somewhat diverse, and the way Billy’s eyes light up each time makes it even more worth it.

There’s still the occasional party, still the occasional fight that Billy finds himself in the middle of, but just like your hook-ups, they become rarer with the passing of time.

There’s a slow rhythm that’s being established between you, but you both try hard not to notice, let alone acknowledge it. 

And while the growing closeness feels foreign and a little intimidating, you’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t become a little addicted to it, too.

Because this closeness with Billy is a closeness you’ve never shared with anyone before. But as of recently, you’ve been getting the growing feeling that this isn’t enough; that you need more than that. That you want more than that. 

And it’s getting harder and harder to mask the quick beating of your heart around him, or the longing gazes, or the urges to kiss him again; pulling him closer and never letting go. 

“We’re just friends,” you keep telling Heather, whenever she calls you out on this thing you share with Billy, but the words start tasting more and more cruel in your mouth.

There’s a bitterness to it that no amount of weed, or drinks or sex can cover.

At first, you think that this storm brewing inside of you is something nobody else would notice. After all, telling lies isn’t a foreign language to you, but during one particular late summer night, Billy surprisingly calls you out on it. 

You two have been browsing the isles of the tiny supermarket right by the shore for a while now, looking for some midnight snacks to bring down to the beach.

It’s almost an unspoken tradition at this point, to let the weekends fade out with some smokes and snacks while lying in the warm sand cuddled next to each other.

Billy wrapping his arm around your side is what pulls you out of your thoughts again. You’ve been staring at some strawberry-shaped gummy bears for the last few minutes, though, even you yourself are unsure as to why. 

“What’s going on, Cinderella? You’re not normally one to struggle with making decisions.” You know Billy’s just teasing but the smile on your face still feels forced, uncomfortably so. 

“Just thinking.” You dismiss Billy’s worried gaze, fingers brushing against the gummy bear package before changing your mind again and letting it go. 

“If you want them, I can get them for you; my treat.” Billy jokes, but your hardly smiling. 

“No, no it’s fine. I’ll just take the usual.” 

“You sure?” 

The answer you throw his way gets lost in the distance between you two, as you simply walk up to the cashier; but then again, Billy thinks, maybe you didn’t say anything at all, your action speaking for itself instead.

He can’t help but notice how your behavior has been a little off for most of the night, yet he doesn’t really know why. He hasn’t been in any fights for the last few days, so there’s no reason for you to be mad at him.

Besides, you’re not one to hold grudges. Instead, you tend to tell him when you’re upset right in the moment, rather than letting the anger simmer.

It’s an upside to being a bit more reactionary, he supposes. 

Still, worry bubbles up inside of him, because even the mere thought of you pulling away, or worse, leaving him for good absolutely terrifies him.

He isn’t even in a position to call you his right now, but the lack of your company would at the very least leave a hole the size of the sun in his heart; he’s sure of that. 

Billy’s convinced that he needs to talk to you, so, of course, he’s going to grab a few more beers from the fridge, assuming that he’ll need them, either before you talk or afterwards.

He’s about to join you at the counter, when something inside of him pauses, and without really thinking, he grabs a pack of the strawberry gummies you’ve been staring at earlier.

He’s unsure as to why, but what harm is there in getting one more snack?

When the two of you walk side by side to the beach, Billy watches you carefully. Even in the harsh light of the streetlamps, you look ethereal, he thinks.

You’re still laughing at his jokes, but there’s something in your eyes that feels distant. Like your miles away, and Billy doesn’t know how to follow you there, or how to bring you back to him again. 

For the rest of the walk, he tries to think of a way to ask you if you’re alright, without you getting defensive. But he can’t think of anything that wouldn’t trigger your fight-or-flight response.

And he knows first-hand just how strong your flight response can be.

So, no thank you to that.

You, however, feel like you’re on fire, and Billy’s company is nothing but gasoline to your blazing longing.

A longing you have to hide, to dismiss, to never acknowledge in the slightest.

And it’s been getting harder and harder on a regular day, and almost beyond impossible on those days were he’s right there with you, like he is right now. 

There’s an awkwardness settling in between you two, as you continue to walk through the sand to your regular hang out spot.

That is, until Billy’s voice suddenly breaks through the quietness of the night, disturbing the stillness taking shape all around you and the gentle whispers of the ocean. 

“First one in the waves wins!”

You hear him drop his backpack and jacket into the sand more than you see it, and for a small second you’re entrenched as you watch him run up to the ocean, before mirroring his actions, letting go of your little purse and running right after him. 

The water is a bit cooler than you expected it to be, but it’s still a welcomed distraction to the incurable heat you feel whenever Billy’s near.

Once you find yourself back by his side, he’s quick to wrap his arms around you, as he spins you around playfully. And for the first time tonight, the laughter bubbling out of you is nothing but earnest, and Billy feels his heart sigh in relief at the mere sound of it. 

You might not tell him what’s wrong, but maybe he can at the very least distract you from whatever it is for a small while. Maybe that will make you stay at least a little longer. 

And as you two continue to play fight, tackling and dunking each other in between the soft waves, you feel yourself come back to the moment without the fear of secret feelings getting discovered.

Without feeling like to have to keep up a mask around Billy, just to be safe. 

By the time you two decide to leave the dark water behind again, you’re both still laughing, both still riding that high of each other’s company, both still lost in the secret longing for the other. 

You don’t even really think about the fact that you’re stripping yourself of your clothing in front of Billy, as you shimmy out of your wet dress quickly, and Billy is about to mirror your action, when something inside of him freezes, his hands toying with the hem of his t-shirt.

“What, you’re gonna stay like this?” You gently tease, once you notice that he’s still wearing both - his dripping wet swimming shorts and his shirt, while you’re clad in nothing but your underwear.

Keeping the swimming shorts on, you can understand, but the shirt? Not so much. 

But Billy doesn’t meet your eyes when you call him out on it, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he almost looks shy all of the sudden. But Billy and shy are two words on opposite ends that hardly fit together. 

“You wanna get pneumonia that bad, huh?” 

“Fuck off, I’ll be fine!”

Billy doesn’t say anything more as he lies down, eyes drifting to the seemingly endless September night sky. 

For a while, neither one of you says anything. The rumble of the waves with its unspoken secrets is the only sound filling the space between you two. 

Time passes, but you can’t say how much, the endless lullaby of the ocean a bad indicator of time passed, and time left.

At some point, Billy’s nursing a beer again, while you’re nursing a joint, and when you offer your rolled-up little friend to Billy, he almost offers you his beer in return, before he remembers that you don’t drink, like at all, and a particular question comes up for air in his mind.

It’s a question that’s been swirling around in Billy’s mouth, like his tongue in yours when you two first shared kisses.

Kisses he keeps dreaming about both day and night, but that’s not the point.

The point is that he still doesn’t know why you refuse to even glance at the alcoholic drinks that usually get passed around at bars and parties, let alone drink any of them.

And there’s something in Billy that feels a little daring tonight.

Maybe it’s because he’s starting to feel lightheaded; if from your company or the drugs and the beers kicking in, he’s not sure. 

Nevertheless, the question decides to drop from his lips, almost accidentally. 

“Why don’t you ever drink, like, alcoholic stuff?” 

The turn of your head towards him is so incredibly fast, it’s giving yourself a bit of a whiplash.

Part of you is ready to bark at him that that’s none of his goddamn business. That he should just mind his own, and leave you to your own devices. 

But Billy’s question isn’t stained with judgement, the way those questions usually are, but with a sense of curiosity that is so very much Billy. 

“If I tell you why I don’t drink, will you tell me why you’d rather risk a fucking lung infection than be caught with your shirt of?”

Now it’s Billy’s turn to get defensive, as he mumbles, “Fuck, no. Jesus, I was just asking a question.”

“So was I, Billy.” 

“Yeah, well, but this is none of your goddamn business.”

“Wait, but wanting to know why I don’t drink somehow is?”

You kind of have a point, Billy quietly admits to himself. Still, asking you to open up feels a lot more justified than asking him to do the same in return. 

There really must be something in the air tonight, though, because Billy’s seriously considering the trade.

“Fine,” he finally mumbles, “but I swear to god, if your answer is only a ‘I simply don’t like the taste of alcohol, Billy’ I’m not saying a single syllable for the rest of the night, and I’m keeping the gummy bears I bought for you.”

The soft laugh that falls from your lips has him feeling a little more at ease, and he watches you with attentive eyes before something inside of you shifts and you take in a deep breath, almost as if to steady yourself or the words that you’re about to say. 

“Alright, sounds like a deal, I guess.” 

As you take another breath, you can’t help but notice that you’re not as scared as you thought you’d be, and maybe there’s something about this night that makes you a little more daring too, a little more vulnerable, a little less on edge, as you find yourself mumbling into the midnight blue of the universe, “My dad.”

The admission is hushed, and it’s quiet, and it’s dripping with shame. Your voice feels rusty and unfamiliar even to your own ears, like you haven’t used it in centuries, and in some odd way you haven’t.

Not when it comes to your dad, at least.

You watch Billy as he takes your words in, eyebrows furrowed slightly, and you realize that maybe your words weren’t as self-explanatory as you’d hoped.

As they are to you. 

“He’s uh- he just used to drink a lot; you know?” 

There’s a clarity in Billy’s eyes as they wander over to you, or maybe the joint is really hitting in, and you’re imagining things.

Maybe you just want there to be clarity.

Maybe you just want him to understand. 

“You mean, he’s an alcoholic?”

There’s a tenderness in Billy’s voice that feels foreign again. It makes you feel something, but you can’t quite say if it’s positive or negative. You decide that it just is, for now; some weird feeling deep within you.

Brushing that aside, you decide to answer his question with a quickly mumbled, “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Has he, uh- has he ever … hurt you?”

There’s an apprehensiveness in Billy’s voice now too, mirroring yours closely. 

“Not like, physically,“ you whisper after a brief pause, “but emotionally, yes. My whole childhood was a living hell, trying to tip-toe around a volcano that could explode at any moment. Feels like I was trying my whole live to not get burned by the fire he’d spit.” 

There’s a silence filling the space between you two, until you mumble, “Don’t know if that made any sense at all but-“ 

“Yeah, no, no, it does.” Billy whispers, voice the most timid you’ve ever heard it.

“Yeah, I think that does make sense.” 

The relieve that washes over you in shouldn’t feel like a fucking 7 feet tall wave, yet it does anyway.

“Guess my father was the same, kind of. Only difference being that he didn’t need the alcohol for that, and he would… well, you know.” 

“He’d hurt you?”

Billy only manages a faint nod since he doesn’t trust his voice from breaking and failing.

There’s vulnerability and understanding swimming in both of your eyes as you look back at the other, until Billy averts his gaze, opting for staring at the stars instead when he mumbles, “There are scars littered all over my body.”

“From your dad?” 

There’s another quick nod, before he states, “That and a kind of… accident.”

You instinctively take his hand into yours. It’s a small gesture, but you still want him to know you’re there.

“There was this …mall fire, I got caught up in. And now my body looks like a fucking battle ground with no goddamn survivors.” 

“But you survived, Billy.” 

There’s a bitter laugh coming from the guy next to you. 

“I don’t know, did I?”

“Well, you’ve got to, otherwise you wouldn’t be here with me now.”

“Yeah, but for how much longer? How much longer will you stick around before you’ll leave again too. It’s not like you didn’t once already.”

You know Billy doesn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but his words still feel like a slap in the face. 

“That was something different entirely.”

“Was it? Because all I remember is you leaving.” 

“But I’m here now, Billy. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere again.”

“Funny, that’s what my mother used to say too.” 

“What?”

You're caught off guard by his admission, and there’s the brief memory of a pause before he whispers, “You know, I initially came back to California to look for someone.” 

“Someone or something?” You quietly question, because Billy’s voice has been so mumbled, you didn’t quite catch the last word. 

“Both, I suppose, if home is a thing.”

“And have you found it yet?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think that I’ve almost got it, but then again-“

Billy doesn’t know why he’s telling you all of this. But now that he’s started, he doesn’t know how to stop either. 

“She left me all alone with my dad when I was still a kid, but she would occasionally pop up again, just to break her empty promises over and over again. But it was okay, because at least she was still there, you know?”

“Oh, Billy.”

You scoot closer to the teary-eyed man, who looks more like a child right now, as he stares stubbornly into the night sky, lips and fingers unsteady and shaky. 

You decide to unceremoniously roll on top of him, hugging him closely while doing so. 

You don’t say anything; don’t think that there are any words deep enough to express your sorrow or how your heart aches at the thought of kid-Billy being failed by both of his parents. And how that failure still haunts him now; shaped him into existence.

You would know, it’s not like your story is much different.

There’s a reason why you crave male validation like a starved cat might crave some milk.

There’s a reason why seeing women out in public wearing your mom’s hairstyle still makes you feel uneasy.

There’s a reason why opening up feels like knives cutting something deep underneath your skin, and you were never taught how to deal with the rawness of it all.

How to handle vulnerability or love or being taken care of; because nobody ever did or showed you how. 

But now, for the first time, you’re not the only one carrying that kind of a curse, because here’s Billy, with the same scars as yours etched into his heart.

Or at least their shapes look awfully familiar. 

And for the next few hours you to share memories, thoughts, and feelings you’ve never shared with anyone before.

You talk about the misplaced anger of your fathers, and the inactions of your mothers, and your siblings, and the curses of being the oldest one.

The scapegoat.

The test-run they were allowed to fuck up, because they could just try to make it right the second or third time around instead.

And you talk, until Billy’s shirt has completely dried down and the sun’s slowly rising up, and sleep is only a heartbeat away. 

Billy’s heartbeat, to be exact, which also turns out to be the most soothing lullaby you’ve ever listened to, as you curl up closer to the boy you share so many different memories with.

Because what had previously been an unspoken understanding of a distant similarity in both of your characters has turned into so much more. 

You’re one and the same in some fucked up yet comforting way.

And you’ve never felt more at peace.

Never felt more at home.

And suddenly, you realize that the stains of the past tainting your present don’t look quite as fatal when you see Billy wear them too. 

Unfortunately, Tumblr won't let me post all of the story at once, since it'd be too many paragraphs in one post 😅.

Read the rest of the story here.

[trixibebe]

oc x canon ~ non-canon babytime

@spicyliumang gave me the brainworms so I gotta jump onto the bandwagon ♥

Headcanons under the cut (I got a bit carried away lmao)

It would totally be an accident. It would be either after she'd return to Japan after visiting home, or during their honeymoon. The jetlag, the different time zones and the excitement would cause her to mess up her contraceptive-intake.

She'd panic when her period would be late as it usually comes even a little early. But it coming a little late would happen every few months for seemingly no reason so this may be the case this time too.

Zhao would immediately note that she seems more tense than usual, and she'd even agree but would brush it off with "happens sometimes", not wanting to worry him (as usual...). She wouldn't really bring it up again until she'd take a pregnancy test.

By the time she has confirmation from the test after her period had been late for longer than ever before, she already kinda made peace with the possibility that she's pregnant. But the reality of it would only settle in when she'd see the positive result.

She's take the test alone after coming home from work one day at a time when Zhao would still be at You Tian. She would want some alone time, no matter the result. If the test is negative then she'd be so relived that she would immediately need a nap. If it's positive then she'd need to process that and think about how deliver the news to Zhao.

Both of them would be the definition of mixed reactions. He'd be coming home in the evening and would find her tear-smeared. She was happy of course. A little person made up of partially herself and part of the person she loved the most. Sounds like the best thing ever. But they didn't plan it. It would be a huge change in their lives. And being a parent nowadays is so difficult. And that made her unbelievably anxious. Zhao was at first in disbelief. He thought she'd definitely get her period and now he's gonna be a dad? Someone who only knew strictness from his own father? Would he manage? Here Kori would be the one for a change who would give him reassurance. That is if he would want the child at all. She would be okay with either outcome.

She always thought about kids as "cool if I have some, cool if I don't". Her life was complete without them. And it's not like she really expected to be a mom anyway being in her mid-30's. But now that there was a chance like this, she would tackle it with Zhao by her side. If he wanted to.

Zhao would be mulling over it for quite a while. It's not like they have never brought up the topic before. But he was also torn between "cool if yes" and "cool if no". He did have fun with them whenever he had to entertain a kid of a costumer. But that was just for a short time. Here he would be in for the long run. Eventually, he figured that he could do a so much better job than his own dad did with him. That lit a fire in him. Zhao was always a person who wanted to give others a place to belong, he would be capable of doing so with his own child.

They would agonize over the name. Should it be Chinese? Japanese? Hungarian? Initially they wanted to go with Japanese, since the baby would be born here. That seemed the most logical, anyway. With a Hungarian name she would probably stand out too much, and Zhao said he didn't wanna "monopolize" the little one's name, making it all Chinese, considering she'd be already getting his last name.

One thing was for sure at first, Kori would get another carnation tattooed on her back once she was done with breastfeeding down the line. And that's when Zhao had the idea of naming the little one "carnation". It would work well since Kornélia is rooted in a flower name too.

The problem was that the Japanese word for carnation is カーネーション or Kānēshon. Basically almost how you'd pronounce carnation in English. That was a no-go for Kori, to her that sounded wrong somehow. But since she loved the idea overall, but Szegfű wasn't an accepted name in Hungary, they eventually went with Kāngnǎixīn (康乃馨). At least that would be on the birth certificate. Some would still go on calling her Kānēshon. Though most of the time she'd end up going by Cara or Carrie. Kori would call her Nyuszifül most of the time, meaning "bunny ear", matching how she'd call Zhao Nyuszi (bunny) a lot (both rather common terms of endearment in Hungarian).

(Cara would later curse her parents a bit for giving her a name so complicated to write.)

Kori would be anxious a lot during her pregnancy, fearing she would do something wrong. Even if she was fully committed to the idea once they decided to keep the baby. To ease her mind, Zhao would spend a lot of time looking up healthy recipes for pregnant women and then cooking them, to at least ease her mind on that front.

In addition she's be quite moody during all of it due to all the hormones. On one hand she's nervous on how to do stuff, on the other hand if you tell her she should do something a certain way she might snark back in a "don't tell me what to do" way. (She would feel extremely bad about it afterwards though.)

In general she'd be pissed more often, mostly at trivial things like when people block the whole sidewalk all on their own, or the mail delivery man not even attempting to deliver packages, rather leaving a note even if she was home. Not that she'd say most of these things out loud (as to "not annoy Zhao") but these things would bother her more than usual.

Giving birth was "fun". *Screams in Hungarian* and God save Zhao if he didn't learn at least some words during their years together to at least minimally get what she means.

Kori would be a tad overprotective (just as she is with her friends and Zhao) especially after Cara's birth. She was a bit worried that her daughter will have a hard time for being of mixed heritage so she tried her everything to make her life as easy as possible.

Cara would grow up speaking Chinese, Hungarian, Japanese and English. Hungarian mostly only for the sake of Kori's side of the family. On that note Kori's parents would call them a lot (something Kori is not really used to anymore) and they would fly to Japan to visit as well especially in the early days after Cara is born. Their help is greatly appreciated.

[Depending on how canon Dumpling and Noodle are in this scenario they would constantly be all over Kori during her pregnancy any chance they get to make her feel comfortable.]

[wisp-of-chaos]

OC Kiss Week 2024 - Day 6

Another day another prompt! Todays word is "Reach" and I am happy to announce that there will be no more dark ffs coming for the last few days of this lovely challenge!

Enjoy the latest little sweet snipped either here under the cur or over at my Ao3! Enjoy!

Day 6 - Reach

Vlassk groaned; his tentacles weakly waving through the air as he mentally reached for the bottle of water he so foolishly had left at the table instead of taking with him.

Vlassk grimaced, snapped his tentacles angrily at the general direction of the table and tried again. The bottle quivered and was lifted up the tiniest bit before it stilled and plopped back down with a soft, dull thmp sound. Groaning, Vlassk dropped his head onto the pillow and made a pitiful noise while punching the cushion of the couch beneath him.

This is all so bothersome and annoying!, he internally cursed himself and – not for the first time – wondered why he ever agreed to the idea of getting more children. Vlassk’s mood and grimace soured as he had to admit that that wasn’t quite right. He hadn’t agreed to more children but brought it up and suggested it himself; knowing full well about all the bodily and hormonal changes he’ll go through yet again, how tired and aching he would feel; how much of a drain it would be on his psionics and overall mental state and yet …

The way Larik had lit up like the starts in the night sky when the topic of kids was brought up had been all the reassurance Vlassk needed to be sure that his decision was right; that he made the right choice both with the additional kids and his partner.

His chest grew warm and the annoyance bled out of his mind as he remembered all the times Larik had smiled and held and reassured him, how he never missed a chance to tell him how proud and happy he was at his side and with their little growing family; how good and amazing he was.

“You’re simply perfect”, Larik liked to say and accompany it with a soft, gentle nuzzle which never failed to drive away any doubts that slithered their way back into Vlassk’s mind when the ache in his head and bones was getting too much under the strain of not carrying one or two kids but three.

Vlassk couldn’t help the low grumble escaping his throat at that reminder and he squished his face further into the pillow. If he’d known that this would happen, then maybe his decision would’ve been different, he mused but then immediately discarded that thought. No, knowing that beforehand wouldn’t have changed anything, he admitted to himself.

He let out a small but long sigh and the tips of his tentacles curled with a smile. That was what one got for mingling with a breeder of all people, he supposed but couldn’t bring himself to regret a single moment of it. And thinking of which …

“Larik?”, he mentally called out to him; his mind expanding and reaching for the faint feeling of another illithid mind nearby and giving it a gentle brush. “Would you mind coming over? I have a little … problem, one might say.”

The initial joy Vlassk felt from Larik upon touching his mind almost instantly turned into worry at his words and he heard him shuffle about downstairs as he said: “Of course! Did something happen?”

Vlassk couldn’t help himself and snickered as his smile and the warmth in his chest grew. “No”, he said as the door was pushed aside and a slightly breathless Larik entered the room, “I just forgot to take my water with me and would very much appreciate it if you could bring me some.”

Larik’s tentacles twitched a few more times nervously before he blinked and made the tiniest noise in the back of his throat, then looked over to where Vlassk was pointing and laughed softly.

“Are the little ones already that hard on you, my siren?”, he asked as he moved over; picking up both the bottle and the cup beside it and then proceeding to bring them over to Vlassk who eagerly and thankfully accepted them.

“Kind of”, he said as he pushed himself up and into a sitting position. He wobbled and struggled a bit more than what he would’ve liked – or admitted, on that matter – but as always, Larik was right there and offered him support and help. Both of which Vlassk gratefully took and thanked him with a gentle mental nudge.

“But I don’t mind”, he added after a moment of taking the time to gulp down some much needed water. He heard Larik coo at him before leaning in and tenderly pushing his head against his own in a soft, quiet kiss and Vlassk couldn’t stop himself from purring and leaning into it; eagerly and happily soaking up this treasured feeling of closeness.

He loved moments like this; quiet and private and soft. Nuzzling into Larik’s touch, Vlassk let his eyes fall shut to fully focus and enjoy this feeling when he suddenly winched under an unexpected pressure inside his belly.

Gasping, he snapped his eyes back open and looked down on himself; his mind filled with awe and excitement and tugging on Larik’s, who was confused under the sudden change of feelings whispering against his head and asked: “Is everything alright?”

“Yes!”, Vlassk all but blurted back as he felt that sensation again and felt his tentacles curling and snapping with growing giddiness. He felt that Larik still hadn’t caught up on what was happening but lacked the patience and coherence to explain it to him and instead opted to just take one of his hands and guide it down to rest on his stomach. He held it there for a moment, waiting and writhing with happy excitement until …

There!

Vlassk made a tiny, high pitched squeal when one of the squidlings moved again and had both parents feel it. He heard Larik’s breath stutter and felt his mind stalling; going completely blank for a moment before it lit up with a burst of bright joy.

Larik made a noise not unlike Vlassk’s and enthusiastically nuzzled the top of his head; and once again Vlassk was reassured that he’d made all the right decisions in this new life of his.

[whipplewhippler]

Snivy x Sceptile Headcanons, pt. 1

it really irks me that the relationship these two could have had was never explored. I feel like they’ve got a few parallels worth elaborating on. I can’t even find fan content, so naturally I decided to just.. make some. these headcanons r so long that I had to delete my first draft for this post, so they all have to be uploaded in parts. my bad

these are primarily centered around Snivy and Sceptile both coming to terms with their brewing feelings for one another and how they cope with them— especially Sceptile, because I seriously feel like the experience he had with Meganium would have taken a massive toll on him romantically if that makes sense. I could talk about that for hours but this is already getting long so let’s get into these long ass headcanons I wrote

Sceptile is very wary when it comes to romance. Although the infamous Meganium incident was ages ago, the effects have taken a toll on Sceptile romantically, and he absolutely refuses to allow himself to go through anything like that again. He’s always quick to shy away from the topic of romance if his friends at the lab start to bring it up, which, thankfully, isn’t very often. 

Snivy, not unlike Sceptile, is initially averse to the idea of any kind of love to begin with. Even after having traveled with Ash, Snivy’s experiences with her past trainer(s) made it difficult for her to really be vulnerable in any capacity. Expressing her love, especially through speech, proves incredibly hard for her. 

Sceptile and Snivy are already good friends. Their cool, no-nonsense attitudes— and yes, maybe a bit of their pride— made forming a friendship based on respect (and a little bit of admiration, in Snivy’s case) incredibly easy.

They’d often be found watching protectively over the younger of Ash’s Pokémon. Sceptile particularly enjoyed the banter he and Snivy would take part in while they monitored their friends. Sceptile can deliver a good jab, sure, but Snivy can fire back a retort without so much as a shift in expression— and Sceptile’ll simply look on, slack-jawed (and, rather unknowingly, pretty enamored) at her ability to clap back so effortlessly.

Sceptile had always found Snivy’s sarcastic tendencies to be rather charming.. but, eventually, it occurs to him that it isn’t just that— he finds everything about her to be charming. Her sharp, crimson eyes, her nimbleness on the battlefield, hell, just the way she carries herself is just so damn endearing to Sceptile. And that fluttery feeling in his heart that he gets when she smiles at him? Please, he’s just awed by her presence. And in a totally platonic way. 

Suddenly, he’s gushing about her to anyone who’ll listen— and this is totally unbeknownst to her, of course. In Sceptile’s eyes, he’s just acting as her hype-man, but his friend Infernape argues that it’s not really being a hype-man if she doesn’t even know about it. 

Infernape is also not particularly fond of being on the receiving end of Sceptile’s newfound gushing sessions. He loves the guy, sure, but he and Sceptile can barely even spar anymore without Sceptile breaking into a tangent about Snivy. “If you think my Leaf Blade’s nothing to scoff at, you should totally see Snivy’s..” He’d muse, after a rough round of battle practice. “Have you heard from Snivy at all today?” He’d ask, on one of the rarer days where he somehow hadn’t spoken to or seen her at all. “I wonder what she’s up to.”

But, then, Arceus forbid Infernape suggest Sceptile might be catching feelings. “No, I’m not,” He’d reply, indignantly. “Far from it. I’m allowed to think she’s cool, Infernape. And she is. I’m just stating what we all know.”

[iannageorge]

Tropes and (lack of) consent 

I’ve been writing more about the thought processes behind my fic, “Strategist”. :) This super rambly piece wasn’t supposed to be the first of a series on tropes, but this is done and I might otherwise lose the nerve.  

An everyday blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment coming up in chapter 8 of “Strategist” is bringing this topic to mind, so:

Sometimes, what you write plays out in the real world—and not for the better. Sometimes, it’s the opposite of what you write that ends up playing out—for the worse. 

The Malcolm Pace in my fic is someone who wants to collect enough data before he acts. Galene warns him it can be to his detriment, but he generally sees this as a good thing. As we’ve also seen, that risk aversion carries into his sex life as well. In his speak, I think he’d say: 

It’s not okay to make risky bets that use considerably unfounded assumptions about other people’s boundaries—specifically the assumption that the other person would “want it”. 

Sometimes, when I write those moments of Malcolm navigating consent, I think, Yeah, he doesn’t know for sure, and he has a need to know. What would he do to be sure enough? Other times, I don’t even think about it “seriously” (like, I’m writing this so I can subvert a trope! *pats self on back*); it’s more of, Yeah, he’d do that. Oh lol that’s cute! 

Like when Malcolm asks Rhode, “Would it be all right if I kissed you?”—a question that is already not really in movies/shows I’ve seen portraying “good” relationships—and then on top of that, he also first kisses her cheek… before they have another “Is this okay?” moment when they want to full on kiss on the mouth. 

Or like when Malcolm straight up just looks away when Rhode is changing in the room he’s in.

When it’s Rhode’s actions I’m writing, I think, Okay, she wants to be careful. How is it she’d try to figure out if Malcolm wants this? Especially because she has the upper hand—as a god and as someone with a lot more experience—she ends up flipping the stereotypical gender roles. 

Like when she’s the one who initiates the “you can say no” type of discussion. 

And when she’s promising him she’ll get him home safe. 

Obviously, at some point, I would think about how moments like those flip clichés and such, and I did plan to do that when conceptualizing this novel. And I can’t believe I feel the need to defend myself for wanting to do that and qualify it all with ‘Oh, this is just their characters!’ Because, correct me if I’m wrong, how Malcolm and Rhode behave is how reasonable, considerate people would behave in real life, right? 

I’m not saying that any/all of those examples above is what everyone would ask for, but to me, those examples should be the expectation. 

Months after I posted Malcolm and Rhode’s first make-out scene (in chapter 5), some asshole I thought was a new friend tried to kiss me. Twice in one day. Without me having ever indicated it would’ve been cool. (FUCK YOU, ***, YOU EMOTIONALLY MORONIC DICKHEAD.) Anyway, what came to my mind immediately and just kept coming back was that “Would it be all right if I kissed you?” scene. And it was thinking about that scene that made me 10000% sure that what happened to me wasn’t okay, even though it was “just a kiss” and even though there had been some element to my experience that had actually made it half a degree less non-consensual—less icky—than what’s typically shown in movies and TV shows. Sure, even if I hadn’t written that “Would it be all right if I kissed you?” scene or any scenes on consent, I know I would’ve known what this asshole did wasn’t okay. But having thought through and written that moment between two people who actually care about consent cemented it in my brain that these are my standards and that my standards are highly reasonable. I guess it was pretty therapeutic. 

A part of me feels sad for the dude that he was so stupid to think that what he tried to do would’ve been romantic. Like, he very probably got that idea from the entertainment he consumed and he was just so dumb and inconsiderate not to have thought about what I might’ve wanted and what I would’ve considered to be uncomfortable.

All to say: wow, I guess the stories we see and read really can shape our behavior, and I had never thought that writing this story would’ve somehow helped me in this way. That it would help me after I wrote it. That it was there for me not to help me process old memories but to equip me in dealing with future experiences. But here we are.

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 20a

*Warning Adult Content*

Location - Part 1

- Knox -

The temptation for Knox to reach into his pocket and pull out his cell phone to text Finn for an update on Everett is at an all-time high.

Their most recent exchange had been late last night and according to Finn, Everett had barely left his new bedroom.

Josie occasionally stopped by to visit him but other than that, the boy had stayed put all day.

Knox reached out this morning for another update but Finn has yet to respond.

This sudden lack of communication could be innocent of course but there is also the possibility that something has gone terribly wrong.

"How do you think it's going in there?" Alvin appears beside Knox carrying a pack of cigarettes.

He pulls one out and lights it up, polluting the air with the acrid scent of tobacco that Knox is all too familiar with.

He used to hate the smell but it hardly bothers him now.

"Someone would have fired a shot by now if they weren't going to make a deal."

Knox pulls his gaze away from the imposing glass window of the Westside Rider's Body Shop.

He glances around the parking lot for the hundredth time, a nervous energy coursing through his veins that has nothing to do with today's meeting.

The parking lot is divided in half.

On one side, Oz's men stand still, not a lick of emotion on any of their faces, on the other side, The Fallen Angels stand by their motorcycles, their restlessness unnoticeable.

Both groups watch and wait under a heavy sense of anticipation, almost as if they're expecting an explosive confrontation to unfold at any moment.

The tension in the air is thick.

One wrong move is all it would take to set off a chain reaction of violence.

Fortunately for Knox, he doesn't have to get his hands bloody today.

Gavin and Oz exit the shop forty minutes later, both men laughing up a storm over something that's evidently hilarious as fuck.

Knox relaxes a little after Gavin waves a hand in his direction, signaling him to open the back of the van.

He complies, then two of Oz's men come over to load several duffel bags into the back of it, neither saying a word nor making any eye contact.

Knox prefers it to be this way, especially when it comes to doing business with new people.

He isn't out to make any friends and the sooner he gets this job done, the sooner he can get back to the clubhouse and check on Everett himself.

The past forty-eight hours felt more like four thousand and it doesn't help any that Finn has gone radio silent.

"That went a lot better than how I initially thought it would go," Gavin announces after Oz and his men depart the area.

The Fallen Angels climb onto their bikes and prepare to head off as well, but in the opposite direction.

"Y'all boys behave yourselves out here?"

"As best we could," Alvin smirks, taking another long drag of his cigarette. "Looked like you two made a lot of progress in there. Is he partnering up with us or are all these bags filled with toy guns?"

Gavin laughs.

"Half are real guns and the other half is 50K in cash. So, yeah, we're partners now. Said he couldn't continue to do business with people who failed so miserably at keeping his product safe, which means The Jackals are officially down one major client."

"Russell is in for a rude awakening if he hasn't already figured out what's happened," Alvin says.

He opens one of the bags and does a wolf-whistle upon seeing the massive mound of green bills stuffed inside.

"Man, I love this fucking job. Wouldn't change it for the world."

"You'd love it even more if you didn't always blow your cut on pussy and booze," Gavin teases. "But I'm certain Russell knows exactly what happened by now."

"He definitely knows."

Knox locks the van's doors and then pulls out his cell phone, quickly navigating to his inbox where he finds no new messages.

He maintains a neutral expression while pocketing the phone but on the inside, his worry twists into anger.

"Since we're on the topic of Russell, did you ask Oz about him and Ghost? Does he know anything?"

Gavin nods.

"Surprised the hell out of me."

"Well, shit. Sounds like we hit the fucking jackpot with this guy."

Alvin takes one final puff of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and putting it out with his foot.

"What kind of information did he hand over and what did he want in exchange? We just got established with this guy, so no way is he out here doing good deeds for free."

"Of course he isn't," Knox mutters.

"He told me he's opening a second shop in a few months and he's going to need a washer to help clean the money that'll be coming in, so I gave him a few recommendations," Gavin says nonchalantly. "When I asked him about Russell and Ghost, he told me what I already knew, which is how they've been in hiding for the last few weeks. Then he told me about the last conversation he had with Russell."

"And what was that about?" Alvin asks.

"They were supposed to meet in person to do a drop-off, but Russell blew Oz off. Oz got pissed and demanded to know why," Gavin explains. "Russell told him about what had happened with Shaun, then he let it slip that he's been staying at his cabin trying to get his mind right while working on a plan that, in his words, would eradicate those responsible for Shaun's death."

"Hold on. You said a cabin?" Alvin questions, confused. "After Mason ran Ghost's information and we all rode out to look at his properties, they were just regular houses he'd abandoned. No cabin."

"We were wrong to assume Russell was staying with Ghost. I think it's the other way around," Gavin says. "Russell apparently has another property somewhere, this cabin but it isn't listed under his government name. He's either using an alias or the property belongs to someone else."

"We need to find Ghost," Knox adds, sounding impatient. "They're clearly lying low together. If we find him, then we find Russell and the cabin. We can finally put an end to this shit once and for all."

"You're right. The only problem we have now is tracking down a man who's quite literally living up to his name," Gavin replies. "But we can discuss this more as a group later. We've been in this shithole town for two days fucking around with Oz and I'm over it. I'm ready to get back to my woman and kid."

"Eh, I'll happily go out on another trip if it means getting fifty thousand in exchange," Alvin laughs. "But you're right, this place is a shithole. And it's too fucking quiet. Where are all the people? I've only seen a handful of folks out walking around."

"Who gives a shit? Let's just get the fuck out of here and go home."

[y-umiko]

Hi! Can you write a scenario about you being an extremely feminine girl who loves keeping herself together and takes care of her skin and body and her doing a nightly skincare routine for Baji, mitsuya, mikey and chifuyu after finding the face wash they use and literally getting offended at the lack of good products they use :)

CHARACTER/S: Baji . Mitsuya . Mikey . Chifuyu

Warning/s: none

Baji was skeptical at first when you insist to do his skincare routine after seeing the huge difference of skincare products on the counter. Almost 90% of the counter was filled with the products you use while Baji occupied 1% out of the remaining space.

He didn't really see any reason to decline so he agreed to it. After giddily dragging him into the bathroom, you sit on the counter, legs wrapped around his waist, his arms placed on the counter caging you.

He closed his eyes as he can feel you gently rub the foam on his face. He can hear you sniffled your laugh and he can only imagine it's because of the pink fluffy headband pushing back his black hair. He felt so at ease and content that he don't care anymore even if it doesn't suit his image.

He enjoyed it a little too much that time had passed too quickly to his liking that even after you finish he didn’t make any movement to move away and waited for you to do more. when you giggled and told him you two were down it slightly made him disappointed, nonetheless, he felt refreshed.

"Do I look cute now?” he would tease making you laugh as you shook your head

“I don’t think cute is the right word” though he doesn’t have a skincare routine like yours, every time he was in the bathroom, he would use the headband you left when he washes his face. imagine the look on Chifuyu’s face when he got caught with it one day.

Mitsuya always says yes to anything you want especially when you came bouncing into him, excitement in your eyes, how can he say no when you had already whipped out your huge collection of skincare products laying it in front of him after finding out his skincare routine consist of a simple face wash and a good moisturizer.

He has a grin on his face as you two sat on the couch facing each other, from facial cleansers, eye cream to moisturizers he never once said anything not wanting to break your focus, so he just stared at you concentrating on his face that he can’t help but stare. you were delicately touching him that he almost thought he was made of glass.

but what he enjoyed the most was waiting for the mask to sink in, the two of you just sit on the couch together, a box of pizza on the table, a rom-com movie playing on the tv that you two didn’t even bother to watch as you two converse about random topics.

He was very patient with your 10 step skincare routine, he cares for his skin but he loves it more seeing you beaming and all happy, talking about how each product will do to his skin. Besides having you do his skincare routine is much better than his little sisters drawing on his face. He nows keeps a face mask and initiating you two do it at least once a week.

Mikey is used to being pampered, with a loving sister, a caring friend, and a lover like you he was used to all the attention. so when you suddenly went to him carrying a bunch of stuff and dropping them onto the bed next to him, all he had to do was lay down and watch you work.

He honestly immediately felt sleepy the moment you brush his hair out of his face but fought it off when you giggled after placing cute little bunny hair clips to keep his hair in place. He didn’t really do any skincare routine, nevertheless, he will let you put stuff on his face as he enjoys seeing your face close to him and feeling your touch on his skin.

He would scrunch his nose from time to time or make silly faces just to hear you laugh, but at some point in your 10 steps skincare routine, he would fall asleep. only to be woken up with the cool touch of the facial mask, the scent of honey evading his nose.

“oh are we done?” he sleepily asked, which you shook your head in response. “almost, but while we wait, let’s take a photo”

you were so happy that he didn’t protest one bit and instead even grinned brightly at the camera. it was too late though as he realize you gave him a bunny mask. he pouted after but didn't make you delete it.

you even made it your phone wallpaper, later on, Draken however was confused why you were sending him pics of Mikey sleeping with stuff on his face.

Chifuyu takes care of himself just not too fancy and elaborate like yours, just a simple face wash that doesn’t even take a minute, for him that was enough so when you look at him like he just had made a terrible mistake he was confused. so in order to appease you, he let you do what you want to his face.

You sit on his lap in bed, facing each other various skincare products scattered as you brush away his hair, when you presented to him the cute headband you owned which was a blue one adorned with a cat ear he immediately protested but all it took was a pout and sad eyes and his resolved weakens.

he didn't have the power to decline you, especially when you looked really cute with your matching headband. seeing you talk excitedly about each product was enough as he relaxes in bed and just enjoyed it. your eyes work with focus and you're touching him so gently that he can’t help but get lost under your gaze, before he knew it you were already peeling the mask out of his face a satisfied grin on your lips.

"your skin looks smooth and glowy now" you squealed as you began cleaning up, but Chifuyu felt so relaxed and energized that he didn’t allow you to move and just kept you in place.

"my skin has always been smooth and glowy"

[kkoumiii]

My Solar Return Experience ☼

Since today is my solar return/birthday, I wanted to share with you my analysis on my previous solar return chart so as to help you better understand how to read yours! 🥳🎉

⤠ Leo Rising (10°): As cliché as it might sound, I experimented a lot with my hairstyle this year and I took a lot more care of my hair overall! For the first time in my life, I dyed my hair twice and now it looks a lot more… flamboyant! I also learnt to love myself a bit more each day, and I can say that I’m more confident than I used to be! (it’s still a work in progress tbh hahaha). I specially strived on radiating a glowing and warming aura, I wanted to spread love and kindness around me. I also tried to experiment more my creative side and did a lot of inner work with my inner child.

⍣ ೋ

⤠ Leo Rising falling in my 9H (natal chart): I focused soooo much on my studies because I wanted to go to South Korea for my next semester and I had to get the best grades as possible to do so (spoiler alert: at the time I’m writing this, I just found out I’ve been selected, I’m thrilled!!!). And since I’m majoring in foreign languages, I mostly focused my attention on improving my languages skills! I’m fascinated by foreign languages and cultures, so I kept learning more about them and started to think about my future goals. This was specially reinforced because I had my Sun & Venus in 9H in Aries, plus my chart ruler (Leo Rising & Sun) in 9H too for this year.

⍣ ೋ

⤠ Sun (2°) & Venus (1°) in 9H Aries: I can say that I took a step back about some of my worries and as a result, I feel wiser and somehow more relax to some extent. I also drew more attention and got many compliments throughout this year (the combo of Sun conjuct Venus). Lastly, I made a new friend (she’s Korean = Venus in 9H) thanks to a language exchange program launched by my university (the combo in Aries 9H).

⍣ ೋ

⤠ Moon (12°) in 12H Cancer: So this one was a bit particular since I originally have a Cancer Moon in 12°. Like I already mentioned with my Leo Rising, I’ve done a lot of inner work, I healed my inner child and part of my traumas. I had plenty of alone time to do so, I meditated, focused on me, myself, and I. I very much needed it and it helped me understand better who I am. It was a relief after the huge identity crisis I’ve gone through the previous year (Sun in 12H at this time).

⍣ ೋ

⤠ Mercury (9°) & Neptune (21°) in 8H Pisces: I deconstructed my initial beliefs and thought process throughout this year. It has been like a spring cleaning in my mind hahaha. It was a real roller-coaster, it felt like I had no time to rest because I had to go through lots of disillusionments and reassess everything, but it really enlightened me. I started my healing journey so much more ready than before, I wanted a fresh new start for me. I wanted to release myself from all the unnecessary burdens I was carrying and while it was a scary process since I was stepping out of my comfort zone, I feel so much better nowadays. And I experimented my spirituality in a brand-new way, I got more in touch with my spirit guides and received many unexpected blessings.

⍣ ೋ

⤠ Mars (10°) conjuct North Node (13°) in 11H Gemini: I wanted to give my time away for greater good, therefore I decided to volunteer in an association built up to help young children and teenagers feel better at school, learn new competences and gain more confidence in themselves. Even though it has its ups and downs, it’s a good experience and I feel happy to be helpful and comforting to someone who needs it. On another topic, I also went to more parties than usual (I’m a very introverted person sooo it’s a big deal to me) and few of my old friends I lost contact with came back into my life.

⍣ ೋ

⤠ Saturn (10°) & Jupiter (21°) in 7H Aquarius: Just because you have planets in your 7H doesn’t mean you will date someone BUT I definitely had some… interesting experiences with some people, let’s put it that way 🤡 At least, I have plenty of funny anecdotes to tell and I’ve learnt my lessons (here is your combo of Saturn and Jupiter in the same house). The 7H represents the others in general tho, and this year, I’ve met many souls with whom I share the same vibrations, one of them being someone I consider as a mentor and I admire deeply, I had many eye-opening experiences thanks to these people.

⍣ ೋ

⤠ Uranus (8°) & Lilith (19°) in 10H Taurus: I had a huuuge crisis when it comes to my future career. I’m still studying but I think a lot about what will come next and it’s stressing me out a lot because having no plans = insecurity to me. I was reconsidering what I should do and exploring different paths. I didn’t find any settled answer though, so I just decided to go with the flow and see what the future holds for me. Sometimes, it’s better to let go (Lilith is here for a reason). I also reappraised my goals and made some research to get a broader vision on what I could do next.

⍣ ೋ

⤠ Pluto (26°) in 6H Capricorn: Yay I did feel this one to some extent. I had to change some habits and create new ones. I obsessed a bit over my diet but I’m getting over it gradually… Since it was the first time I had to live by myself far from my family for a long period of time, I had to create a new routine and focus on my daily life with all its ups and downs, but my alone time (Moon in 12H Cancer + Mercury in 8H Pisces) helped me get used to it. Without surprise, I worked a l-o-t and I was worn out at some point but I reached my goals!

More observations:

⤠ I had Vertex and Juno in 5H Sagittarius, suggesting a fated meeting. Like I said, I met someone I consider as a mentor (Sagittarius + Juno sextile Jupiter). This person is a medium (Juno square Neptune) and someone I connected instantly with because we share many similar personality traits (Vertex square Sun & Venus). We talked about my future career (Juno trine MC), my love life (Vertex square Venus) and my energy overall with my life path (Vertex square Sun). Please note that this is a raw interpretation and you can interpret these aspects in so many different ways!

⤠ I started the year by procrastinating a lot because I felt stuck and had a hard time pulling myself together. So my challenge for this year was to overcome my critical inner voice and my mind (North Node square Mercury) by becoming more assertive and taking actions (North Node conjuct Mars), and thus restructuring my life and remaining disciplined while focusing on my goals (North Node trine Saturn).

⤠ Mars conjuct my natal Saturn: I had to refocus my attention on what was essential, organise my day-to-day life and use my time and energy wisely so I could be more effective and take decisions that will benefit me more on the long run.

⤠ I decided to go through this huge transformation after that the harmony in my home environment (Libra IC) had fallen apart and everything had to be rebuilt with new but stronger and better foundations (IC in 22° of Capricorn).

⤠ Fire and Air + Cardinal Dominance: I had to fight and get over (Fire) my inner demons and my limiting beliefs (Air) in order to regain control of my life (Cardinal).

⤠ I had many Capricorn and Sagittarius degrees, emphasising my focus on studies to get my degree and go abroad.

I won’t go any further but I hope it will help you get the tools to better grasp your own Solar Return Chart! Obviously there are many more elements to analyse but if you have questions about yours, my inbox is opened! 🎆

I can’t wait to see what this new year has in store for me… We’ll see! Lots of love 🧡

- kkօմตííí ❁

[dreamilyjake]

pink silk | sim jake

pairing: jake x fem!reader

genre: almost! arranged marriage au (not really)

warning: quite suggestive

word count: 1.4k

(〃ﾟ3ﾟ〃) enjoy

♡

you stared at the silk slip dress laying on your bed. it was a beautiful shade of pink. it looks a bit short, but it's a stunning dress. you sighed. "i don't want to go to this dinner."

"honey, we've talked about this," your dad heaved.

"you're forcing me to go to dinner with someone i don't even know?" you scoffed and crossed your arms together. you can't believe your parents made dinner plans for you to meet with someone without your own knowledge. no, scratch that. it's not just dinner plans, they're marrying you off. what is this? you're being thrown into an arranged marriage life now?

"would you want to go if it's with someone you know?" riki, your brother cackled slightly, before your mom pinched his arm shutting him up. he rubbed his arm in pain. "riki, shut it!"

your dad pinched his nose bridge, exasperated "y/n, i'm doing this for your own good. i just want you to marry someone well off and a good man."

"i can't believe you're selling off your only daughter!"

you were fumed, though you sighed in defeat. there's nothing you can do but attend the dinner. you figured you might just go and run away if anything goes bad.

｡*♡✧*。

as you arrived at the fancy restaurant, the waitress showed you the way to your table. you saw it was an empty table, thinking your dinner date was running late. tch, you couldn't believe you arrived earlier than whoever-might-show-up.

just as you boringly sat there waiting for your date, sipping your glass of champagne. rolling eyes at literally nothing. you hated this already. you sighed in annoyance, you wished you could go home already. why were you forced to be here? anyone with two eyes can see your grumpy mood.

that was until the corner of your eyes caught someone familiar. extremely familiar. you looked up as he walked near to your table. surprisingly, your frown slowly turned into a smile. a big smile at that.

"jake, it's you," sim jake. you weren't exactly the closest of friends, but you knew him through your mutual friend, park sunghoon, because they were best friends. sim jake and you never really talked that much. bumping with each other at times, you noticed the stares from the man when he didn't know you'd notice. the first time you met jake, you thought he was absolutely attractive. his nice-looking face, and his amazing personality that you only saw part of it. too bad, your talks with him never went past casual conversation and casual flirting. you were excited to see him.

sim jake, the handsome man, clad in a satin black dress shirt, matched with a black suit and pants. his visuals were astonishing. you couldn't really describe it in words of how handsome he was. his beauty just took your breath away. his hands were in his pockets, he looked absolutely stunning.

"you looked gorgeous, angel," he stood in front of you, complimented you with a little grin. he pulled his chair and sat across from you. your heart totally skipped a beat when you made eye contact as he looked at you. you were still smiling in excitement upon seeing him.

"i'd thought that you hated this dinner date."

"why would you say that?" you raised your eyebrow.

"seeing you from afar, you looked mad. but right now you seemed very pleased to see me. do you like me that much, y/n?" he teased and laughed that sounded like the music to your heart. you reddened with his teasing.

"oh, get over yourself." you rolled your eyes but said it with a huge smile on your face.

"do you like it that i'm here?" he smiled, placing his fingers onto his lips.

you scoffed, changing the topic, "don't you think it's a little rude to let the girl wait?"

he turned his head slightly, frowned a little, "well, i don't want to wait here and then find out i got ditched if my date decided to run away."

"now, who would ever ditch you?" you wouldn't ever confess you had planned to run off earlier. that was before you knew it was him. but, come on. it's sim jake. that's one hell of a dumb person could be to ditch him. would you run off if it was someone else? mayhaps.

he laughed again, "and i have ordered our appetizer. you know, because i was actually here first."

then the appetizer came in, the waiter later took your main course and dessert orders. your meal was served and both of you enjoyed your fine cuisine.

"so, angel, what do you think?" he started, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"i wouldn't actually eat if it wasn't you tonight," you said truthfully, scooping in your delightful dessert.

"careful angel. you're really gonna make me think that you like me." he chuckled and you could've sworn you saw a slight red tint appearing on his cheeks.

"and i'm actually talking about you having to marry me." and then it just dawned on you. this dinner date was a date to meet the man that your dad wanted to marry you off. you barely processed, marrying this fine man? oh god.

"hmm, do you want to marry me?" you turned the question to him, then resting your cheek on your palm against the table.

you saw he bit his lips, "this isn't really an enemies-to-lovers trope, sweetheart."

"then what trope is it?" you asked innocently, batting your eyelashes.

"anything you want, angel."

"oh and maybe, just maybe. when tonight ends, you might just end up on my bed, princess." he said again with a flirty smile on his face.

you gasped in feign innocence, "jake, what do you even mean? how dare you initiating pre-marital s*x on our dinner night?"

"with how fucking stunning you look in that dress? you really think i'm gonna have the patience to wait until we get married?"

when he knew park sunghoon has a girl friend, he was dying to see you and meet you. sunghoon always had these stories of a certain girl that he never knew of. when he finally saw you, it was super easy to develop a crush on you, jake thinks. you were the most beautiful person his eyes has ever laid on. the way you carry yourself with grace, the way you talk. it was just in a blink of an eye that he realised he was attracted to you.

｡*♡✧*。

true to his word. this fine piece of man does not have the patience to wait. when you were both done with your lovely cuisine, he was delighted to offer to bring you home. though, he did not drive you home and rather drove straight to his own apartment after asking you if it was okay to go to his place.

upon arriving at his penthouse, you were roughly pushed against the wall. "i'm sorry, angel, i just want to kiss you so bad. it's all i can think about," with his arm beside your head, he said the words just barely above whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

you bit your lips, "then kiss me jake." with that approval he attacked your lips with his delicious plump lips. you shut your eyes, feeling his warm and soft lips against yours. he smells fucking amazing with his signature cologne. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. he kissed you fervently, deepening the kiss like he couldn't get enough of you. he was kissing you like his life depended on it. nose grazed each other, as he tilted his head to kiss you more. when you feel his hands start lazily roaming your body, you gasp. it gave him the access to taste the cavern of your mouth, tasting your warmth. it was also warmth that blossomed in your chest. your heart pounded quicker in your chest, and your knees got weaker. you could only focus on how soft he felt against your mouth, it was only in a slip seconds that you're already addicted to how he made you feel. when he pulled out from the kiss, you were both panting heavily, gasping for air.

he draped his arms around your frame to pull you closer to his body. "we're in for a long night, angel."

[itsdanii]

Ahhh, your rejecting and regretting series is so good, my heart 🥺❤️ Can you do another one but with kuroo and kenma? You can ignore this request if you don’t wanna do it, I love your writing style and your blog! Stay safe and have a good day! 💞💞

Hey, bub! Thank you so much for the kind words, I appreciate it ♥️ I hope you don't mind me doing this only for Kenma. I got carried away so it got quite longer than I intended 🤦‍♀️ Anyway, here's your request! I hope you like it ♥️ Have a good day, stay safe and hydrated! Mwah!

a/n: read the note on the last part.

Rejecting and Regretting 6

genre: angst to fluff

warning/s: cursing, do message me if i missed any

a/n: please do read the warnings before you proceed. warnings have been put there for a reason.

ft. timeskip!kenma kozume

title says it all

Masterlist | Updates

Kenma Kozume

When you moved in to your apartment, you never expected your neighbor to be THE Kenma Kozume

If truth be told, you've been a fan of his ever since he started streaming

You knew that he didn't know you nor would he pay attention to you so you did not bother telling him that you were a big fan - the first one to always comment when he starts streaming

Not only did you think that it may make him uncomfortable but also make him feel like you were only trying to befriend him for his reputation

One night, as you were coming back from a short trip to the grocery store, you were walking with your earphones in and nose pointed on the screen while rewatching one of his videos

What you didn't know was that Kenma was walking behind you and was actually staring as you smiled and giggled while watching

You almost squealed when a hand came on your shoulder, almost punching the person behind you

Oddly, that was the starting point of your friendship

Although Kenma was hesitant at first (duh, you almost punched him) , he slowly eased when he felt that you were genuine

You basically went from neighbors to roommates because of how often you went to his unit, just playing random games and having occasional sleepovers

It wasn't long then when you realized that your "fangirling" towards the streamer developed into something more

You realized that you were no longer looking at him as the Kodzuken of the gaming world but just Kenma Kozume

You knew that you were fucked and thus you tried hiding it, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't

So you came up with a solution - confess. You decided that you would take the leap, confess, and hope that everything would turn out well, not knowing that it was only one sided

You shifted from one foot to another as you waited for Kenma to open the door of his unit.

Earlier, you both planned another sleepover and you took the initiative to cook dinner for the two of you instead of ordering another takeout.

As you waited, you could feel your stomach grumbling as the scent of the freshly baked sushi wafted in the air.

To be honest, you weren't really a good cook but you taught yourself how to with the help of youtube and cookbooks. You weren't even planning on learning how to do it but you were getting bored of takeouts, plus, you also wanted to impress Kenma even for a bit.

When the door finally opened, you smiled widely at Kenma while showing the food you made.

"Told you to not bother knocking and just make your way inside," he muttered before taking the pan from you and letting you in.

"Unlike you, I have my manners, Kozume," you playfully said as you plopped yourself on the couch head first.

Hearing him mumbling something under his breath as he arranged the table, you propped your elbow on the couch to watch him with a small pout playing on your lips. Your eyes followed his every movement and you couldn't help but question how someone could look so perfect.

His hair was a mess in a half bun and he was wearing nothing fancy, just his old sweatpants and a hoodie. Despite that, he still managed to look like a model, specifically those who preferred the "woke up like this" look.

"Y/n, are you going to eat or not?"

You blinked your eyes when you noticed the frown plastered on Kenma's face. Immediately, you stood up and walked over to the table with a small blush on your cheeks after being caught daydreaming.

"Sorry," you said sheepishly.

Kenma's apartment was then filled with the sounds of utensils clanking and small conversations the two of you were sharing.

Even though it seemed like Kenma wasn't paying attention, you knew that he was listening. You were aware of how much he preferred listening and observing more than talking anyway. It's just that you wished that he would talk more around you.

Somewhere in your conversation, you tried hinting your feelings towards him. In fact, you think that it was pretty obvious, but it seemed like Kenma didn't notice - that or he was purposely avoiding to indulge you.

"Getting in a relationship with a fan isn't boring you know? It actually sounds exciting, to be honest."

At that, Kenma heaved a sigh which instinctively made you shut up.

His eyes were already casted on the food infront of him instead of you,  eyebrows furrowed as if he was suddenly put in a bad mood. "I dont... really like this topic," Kenma said with a dismissive tone.

You felt your heart drop upon hearing that.

You've already practiced your confession several times and there was no way you'd let such words discourage you that easily. All you knew was that you had to get it out of your chest - now or never.

You placed your utensils down and looked at him straight in the eye despite him trying to avoid your gaze. "Why not, Kozume?" you asked, trying to push him to talk.

"I just don't see the point. Why would you want to date your fan? That's... weird," he simply answered, "What if they don't really like you? There's a high chance that a fan would date their idols because of popularity and fame. It's nothing but a self satisfaction."

"Hmm... I guess you do have a point," you said with a nod.

Placing your elbow on top of the table, chin resting on your palm, you pointed at yourself with your free hand which made Kenma look at you with one eyebrow raised. "Then what if it's me who wants to date you? Im a fan of yours, after all. Would you also reject me?" you asked hopefully.

Without wasting any second, Kenma answered, "Of course. Why would I date you?"

You didn't know how to react upon hearing that. You wanted to believe that he was trying to tease you but there weren't any signs of that from the tone of his voice. Moreover, he had nothing but a serious expression on his face.

"Because I like you," you answered with a low voice.

That simple phrase caused the silence to enevelope the two of you. The anticipation made your hands feel clammy to the point that you had to let go of your utensils to grip the sweatpants your were wearing.

Silently, you stared at each other as if waiting for the other person to break the silence - until Kenma did.

"Well, I don't." Standing up, Kenma took his plate and placed it on the sink, his back turned against you as he continued, "I think I'm going to stream for a bit. Make yourself comfortable."

You stared at Kenma as he made his way to his room wordlessly. "Make myself comfortable? Just who the fuck would say that after rejecting someone?" you muttered under your breath.

Knowing that it would be pointless to distract him while streaming, you started to clean the table and proceeded on washing the plates. As you were doing so, you whispered a curse when a tear suddenly slid down your cheeks.

You weren't supposed to cry. You prepared for this so you should've been able to take the rejection properly, right? He was Kenma Kozume after all. Although you became close with each other, it seemed as if he was really beyond your reach.

And now you ruined the only thing keeping you close to him - your friendship.

You decided to leave his unit after that. You felt that proceeding with the sleepover would only put a tense atmosphere between the two of you. Moreover, he did shut you out, right? Though he told you to make yourself comfortable, the way he acted said otherwise.

Maybe he only said it not to hurt your feelings.

"As if he hadn't already," you murmured, shutting and locking the door behind you.

In hopes of cheering yourself up, you decided to take a warm shower and pamper yourself to he point that skincare products basically littered your vanity when you finished and don't forget the fact that you ended up smelling like a strawberry because of your bodywash.

By the time you went to bed, you were feeling a little better... or were you?

As you laid on your bed, staring at the wall beside you while hugging a pillow close to your chest, your mind suddenly went back to what happened awhile ago.

You thought of how dismissive he seemed towards you. He wasn't always like that. Kenma had always been enthusiastic when you're around. Sometimes you would even end up watching beside him as he streams.

What changed?

Groaning, you buried your face on your pillow when you felt yourself tearing up once again. "Tomorrow will be better," you mumbled against the soft material as you slowly allowed yourself to fall asleep.

It didn't.

In fact, it got worse.

Not only was Kenma avoiding you, he was also acting as if he didn't know you - as if you didn't exist.

Earlier this morning when you were taking the trash out, you waved at him in hopes of lightening up the mood, but instead of usually greeting you, Kenma didn't even spare you a glance. He basically walked pass you without saying anything.

At first, you thought that maybe he didn't see you. Maybe his mind was elsewhere while walking. That could be possible right?

But when it continued for several more days, you realized that he was indeed avoiding you.

You felt a mixture of pain and anger. You were supposed to be the one avoiding him since it was him who rejected you but why was it the other way around? He could've atleast talked to you, let alone smile. Did he not value even just your friendship?

As the days went on, you were slowly getting tired of being the only one to put effort on rekindling your relationship. It was exhausting to keep on chasing over someone who didn't even acknowledged you.

Maybe you were just a bother to him after all.

So despite your will to keep on getting his attention, you decided to stop. If he didn't want you then so be it. You already confessed and did your best to show him that you're genuine. That's all that matters.

-

Kenma stared at your door beside his intensely, hand mid-air to turn the knob of his own unit.

It had been two weeks since he last saw you and for the third time of the day, he was yet again met with nothing but silence when he tried knocking on your door.

Where were you?

He knew that how he acted towards you was unreasonable but he didn't expected himself to wake up feeling like shit everyday without seeing you. He did this. He pushed you away. He said he didn't like you, right?

Groaning frustratedly, Kenma entered his unit, heading straight to his streaming room to cool off his head. If he couldn't see you personally, then perhaps he could at least see your name on his viewers.

He knew you always watched his stream and how you would always be the first to comment. Sometimes, you would even donate a huge amount of cash as a tip even though you always complained about being broke.

"They're not watching?" Kenma said unconsciously as he noticed how your name wasn't on the list.

That instantly caused a ruckus in his stream's comment section. Several fans kept on asking who Kodzuken was referring to and some even got the right answer since he streamed with you several times already.

But instead of saying anything, Kenma stayed silent. He focused on his game, occasionally shifting his eyes to the comment section and interacting with his fans.

His eyes, however, caught one comment. It was a link with the caption "Isn't this y/n?". Out of curiosity, Kenma decided to check it, finding out that you were indeed the person in the video.

No, it wasn't a video. It was a live stream of someone like him - a player.

And there you were, seated beside the unfamiliar person with a fluffy blanket wrapped around your body and your your head resting on their shoulder.

Who was that and why did you look too comfy?

"Sorry, guys. I'll have to end the stream now. Something important came up," Kenma said with a small wave before ending his stream.

Stalking the other streamer's socials, Kenma frowned upon noticing several pictures of you attached in their instagram. They were even posted just a few days ago which meant that you must've been spending time with them throughout the days you weren't at home.

Something stirred inside Kenma. It was an unpleasant feeling blooming inside his chest, clawing at him and making him realize one important thing.

He was in love with you.

And it was only confirmed when he remembered how nervous he was when you confessed, how scared he was when he heard the door shutting after he rejected you, and how stupid he was for only realizing it now.

"Shit," he whispered to himself as he quickly tapped on his phone, his finger hovering over your number, debating wether or not should he dial.

Suddenly, he shifted his gaze on the monitor of his pc which was still displaying the unfamiliar streamer when he noticed how you snuggled closer to their side.

Muttering anther curse, Kenma clicked on your number, his eyes focused on the montior of his laptop as he watched you picking up your phone.

"Please pick up," he pleaded when he noticed the frown on your face.

It took him a full 5 minutes and several dials to finally make you give in. He watched as you whispered something on the person beside you before making your way out of the room.

On cue, your voice suddenly met his ear.

"Kozume?"

It was still as soft as he could remember and with the fact that he finally admitted his feelings, his cheeks burned when he felt his heart racing.

Say it. Say it.

Say you like her.

"I-" pausing for a moment to rethink his words, Kenma sighed deeply before answering, "I'm sorry for being mean."

Fuck.

He was met with silence from the other side and for a moment, he got scared that you dropped the call.

It was until he heard some rustling sound that he realized you were still there and was purposely trying to stay quiet.

"Can we talk about this in person?" you said with a tiny voice.

Out of panic, Kenma nodded, forgetting that he was ralking to you over the phone and not in person. Mentally smacking himself, he answered, "Yes. I'd prefer that."

And I'd prefer if you're here instead of that caveman's room.

"Then, I'll be there in 20."

-

The moment Kenma heard someone knocking, he was quick to open the door.

His lips basically parted at the sight of you. It was only two weeks and yet why did it felt like he hadn't seen you in a month?

"Kozu-"

"I'm sorry," he cut you off, arms wrapping around you as soon as you stepped inside his apartment.

He felt how your body became stiff in his hold and without wasting any chance, he poured everything out. "I'm sorry for how I acted towards you. I treated you as if you were the last person I wanted to be with and when I didn't see you for several days, I realized how much I hurt your feelings." He took a deep breath, eyes focusing on you as he gripped your shoulders slightly. "Forgive me? I promise that I'll make it up to you."

Kenma hoped that you could notice the genuineness in his voice. He wasn't the type of person to talk too much but for you, he'd do it if it means having you forgive him and give him another chance.

"It's... alright, Kozume," you answered with a small smile.

"It's alright?" Kenma asked slowly. He knew that he should be happy that you forgave him easily but the way you said it made it seem like you were only forcing yourself.

It's like you didn't mean it.

"W-what do you mean it's alright?" he repeated.

"It means exactly what it means. I don't really see the point of holding a grudge against you, you know? You rejected me and I accepted it." Shrugging your shoulders, you walked pass him and went to sit on the couch. "I guess I just got too ahead of myself. I mean, you're Kenma Kozume, the Kodzuken of the gaming world. It would be impossible for you to like me, right? Sorry if I made you uncomfortable with my confession."

Kenma swallowed the lump forming inside his throat, eyes darting away from your figure as he shook his head no. "No... That's not true."

"What do yo-"

"I like you. How could you ever think that low of yourself?" he said, finally looking at you before he walking towards your direction. "It's not Kodzuken to you, y/n. Kozume - just Kozume. I don't want you to think that I'm someone all high and mighty just because people acknowledge me. I don't care about that. I want you. I want you to look at me the same way you did before. I want you to keep on clinging to me and to keep on cooking for me despite not knowing how to. I want you to like me again. I just want you.."

You felt your eyes well up with tears. After a long time of pining over someone you thought you wouldn't be able to reach, it was finally here - the moment you finally manage to hear the words you've longed to hear from him.

"D-do you mean that?" you asked with a small sob, your hand covering your face as you felt yourself being lifted and placed on Kenma's lap. "What if you're only saying that to make me feel better?"

"Of course I mean it. I was too stupid being scared of acknowledging my feelings towards you that I ended up rejecting you. I'm sorry." Gently, Kenma rubbed your back as he kept you in his arms, words of apologies continue slipping past his lips as he waited for you to stop crying.

"If I told you I still like you, would you promise not to treat me like shit again?" you asked while wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. "You were really mean to me, Kozu."

"I'd promise," Kenma answered with a nod.

Looking at him, you sniffled one more time. "Then I still like you," you said without taking your eyes off him.

You didn't fail to notice how Kenma's cheeks turned a lighter shade of red and the thought of how he got more flustered by your second confession than the fact that you were seated on his lap made you smile a little.

"Oh," Kenma uttered, as if suddenly not knowing how to react.

"You're supoosed to kiss me like those cliche movies," you said while encircling your arms around his neck.

Kenma's blushed even deeper after hearing that. Gulping, he gave a stiff nod before leaning in and finally planting his lips on yours.

His lips were soft against yours. Despite how tense he was at the beginning, he slowly managed to relax, fingers interlocking with your hair as he kept on moving his lips in synch with yours, both of your eyes closed as you savored the moment.

You felt yourself smiling in your kiss as you realized something - no longer were you just a fan but his s/o.

If you're reading this, hello.

I've decided that this will be the last part of the rejecting and regretting series. Though I had a lot of fun writing these, I'm no longer satisfied with how I'm writing them. The scenes were slowly becoming repetitive as well as the words. I'm craving for something new- something fresh that I've yet to explore. It was quite overwhelming how much people loved this series and I'm very thankful for that so I feel a little bad that this would be the last one. Don't worry, I still have some stuff brewing up that I hope you'd all enjoy.

Thank you so much for the love, support, and most importantly, for reading the series up until this last one. ♥️

[ashasmonsters]

The Thru-Hiker

Female reader x Male mothperson (Desmond)

Citrus rating: Lemon

Content: Full-on smut, references to unhappy breakups

Words: 5.1k

Note: Here's the story that earns me the "18+" in my description. This is my first time making anything this smutty public, so any feedback or criticism would be appreciated. Enjoy!

You raised the viewfinder to your eye. The rolling hills fit within the frame-lines neatly, the trail before you leading straight down the middle and towards the horizon. With a satisfying click the shutter fired. You lowered the camera and cranked the film advance lever, confident that shot would turn out well. You let the camera dangle from your shoulder once again as you looked around: this spot was close enough to the main trail that you wouldn't need any "breadcrumbs" to lead you back to it in the morning. The sun would finish setting in an hour or so, and bird chirps had given way to trilling crickets and cicadas. It was warm enough that you didn't need to build a fire. Your stove would do just fine.

"That's a nice camera."

You turned towards the voice. Standing behind you, closer to the main trail and obscured slightly by foliage, loomed a lanky mothman. He wore clothes appropriate for hiking the Appalachian trail, though you hadn't seen him around. This meant he was quick or hiking the opposite direction as you.

"Thanks." You answered. He pushed a few low-hanging twigs out of the way and took a step towards you.

"Is that a..." he paused, his brow furrowing above his red compound eyes as he searched for a word, "Yashica, right?"

"Mamiya, actually." You answered, hefting the brick-shaped camera from your hip where it dangled. "It's been a pain to hike with, but I love it all the same."

"I'm sure you've got some excellent shots in that thing. I'm Desmond." He closed the remaining distance and tenderly extended a chitinous claw. You shook it in turn and returned his greeting.

"I don't believe I've seen you on the trail, Desmond," you said, "are you using those wings or hiking southbound?"

"Oh, I'm hiking southbound. Flying would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"

"I guess that is a silly question." You lowered your eyes and made eye contact with his hiking boots. "I'm heading northbound."

"Hm. You must have started the trail pretty recently."

"That's right. I started maybe three weeks ago. You must be pretty close to finishing if you're going southbound."

"Been on the trail for five months." He answered.

"Wow." You breathed. Maybe mothmen wore it better, but he certainly looked neat for having lived in the wilderness for almost half a year. You caught yourself staring. "Um, got any tips for a relatively fresh hiker like me?"

"Take your time and enjoy yourself." He said, looking down at you. "The trail is going to take the better part of a year from you no matter what, so there's no point in rushing it."

"Thanks for the advice." A pause. You saw your reflection in his ruby eyes. "Anyway... I don't want to keep you from the trail, being nocturnal and all." You failed to suppress a tinge of longing in your voice. The sun started to kiss the horizon, making the canopy above you look like it was on fire.

"Well, actually..." Desmond rested a claw on the back of his neck fluff, "I was going to ask if you would share this spot with me. It's going to be a full moon and I planned to take a rest to enjoy it."

"Oh," you said, glad the sunset was masking your blush, "that should be fine, then."

"I don't want to impose, I could always find my own—"

"No, really, it's fine." You said, gesturing around the sizeable clearing. "We're sharing a view, not a cot. I don't mind."

"Ah, right." He played with his neck fluff again. "Well then, let's not waste the daylight." You nodded and slid your pack off.

Your sleeping arrangements for the trail had been spartan, but still comfortable. You carried a thin foam pad which rolled up nicely and fit under your sleeping bag, a tarp with hooks for hanging from above, a camp stove, and a sack to keep your food strung up a branch and away from animals.

All of this was set up fairly quickly since Desmond was helping you. He was quite tall, which made stringing up the extra food much easier than when you had done it alone. In no time, your foam pad was safely encircled by your hanging tarp and your stove was boiling a pot of water. Tonight's dinner was an Appalachian Trail classic: dehydrated cheesy rice. You took the initiative to invoke full-on luxury by adding a handful of equally dehydrated broccoli florets. You had a guest to entertain, after all.

"Thanks for making me breakfast. Dinner, in your case." Desmond said. The dim blue light from the camp stove caught only the very edges of his chitinous frame. His red eyes shone bright like a cat's through the steam from the culinary masterpiece cooking between you two.

"Consider it my treat." You smiled back. There was a pause, so you pulled a topic from the air. "Are you a photographer too? Not many people can tell apart the brands of these old things." You patted your Mamiya camera as if it were a tiny metal lapdog.

"Ah, no," He said, almost defensively, "if you have compound eyes like me, you can't really look through viewfinders. It just doesn't work."

"Right, sorry." You rubbed the back of your neck. "Where does your camera knowledge come from, then?"

"Well... you know the old mothpeople stereotype about how we like light?"

"Um." You spoke carefully. "I have heard of it."

"I kinda live up to that stereotype. Like, very much. It's why I wanted to stop here to watch the full moon."

"Okay, but how does that tie into cameras?"

"It's kind of embarrassing." He fidgeted with his long white neck fuzz. "It's the flash. When it goes off, it's like... like..."

"Like a drug?" You finished for him.

"No! Not like that. It's not addictive... I don't think. It's more like... what's that thing humans do with their nails and their skin?"

"Like scratching an itch?"

"Yes! Exactly." He said excitedly. "I don't itch, but if I did, I imagined it would feel like when a camera flash goes off."

You chuckled even though you knew he was a little embarrassed. This whole situation was just too absurd, too odd.

"So you're like a connoisseur of camera flashes." A pause. He lowered his gaze.

"Mamiyas have the best one." You chuckled again.

"Well, then." You pulled your camera from your bag and held it before you. "May I take your portrait?"

"If it's no trouble," his antennae perked up, "yes please."

Wrestling the camera into shooting position, you flipped the viewfinder open and aimed it squarely at him. The scene fit perfectly within the frame-lines; the glowing blue stove flames in the foreground and Desmond's red eyes neatly in the middle.

"Looks good to me." You said, pressing the flash release. The flash, a piece of metal the size of your thumb, sprung out of the camera and whined as the battery charged it.

"Oh, wow." He noted. You pressed the shutter—

"Goddamn!" Desmond cried, shuddering. Briefly, a low chirr seemed to emanate from him. "Pardon my French. That was good."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Most people hate when I ask to take their portrait." You cranked the film advance lever and smiled. You returned your camera to its place in your bag, then... remembered there was a meal on the stove. "Crap, I hope the bottom isn't burning." You said, quickly grabbing the stirring spoon and scraping the bottom of the pot. You continued until you were sure the food was in good shape.

"You know, when I thought about making this trek, I was worried about getting lonely. Like I wouldn't be able to put up with just myself for so long... but I've already met so many people and they've all been kind." You continued stirring the meal.

"Then what made you consider it in the first place?" Desmond asked, cocking an antenna.

"Oh... you know... adventure." You lied. The resulting pause made you painfully aware of how bad of a liar you are. The cheesy rice bubbled and spat steam at you as if heckling your poor performance.

"I'd believe that if you had a fedora and a whip. And knew where the holy grail was." He chuckled, his mandibles clicking.

"What?"

"Ah, just a stupid joke. There's these old movies..." He cut himself off and extended an empty claw, taking the spoon from you and making it his turn to stir. "I don't want to tell you your business, but everybody I've met in the past five months comes to the trail to run from something."

"Well... you're right that it's definitely my business." You tried not to scowl. The turn in conversation had resurrected an unpleasant feeling in your heart; something in the same neighborhood as shame or sadness.

"Not if what you're running from is the law and you're a serial killer or something. Then that's definitely my business." He clicked once more. His attempt to lighten the conversation didn't help that feeling much. The cheesy rice heckled him this time.

"I'm not a serial killer, I promise." You started, drawing in a sharp breath. Perhaps you just needed to vent. Maybe that would ease this malaise. "Why don't you start? Tell me what you're running from first, then I'll tell you about me." You took the stirring spoon back from him. He ran a claw down his face.

"I'm running from a breakup. We dated for three years." He sighed.

"I'm... sorry." You said, unsure of what else to say.

"Don't apologize; not unless you're the girl she ran off with." His mandibles clicked weakly. "I'm kidding. She didn't run off or anything. She didn't even cheat. She just realized that men weren't for her."

You raised an eyebrow. "Three whole years?"

"It didn't take her that long to realize it, just that long to work up the courage to tell me. Maybe I wasn't her true love, but she cared about me a lot. She was so scared of hurting me that she bottled it up for most of that time."

"You didn't want to remain friends?"

"I did— and I still do. I... I just said three things: 'I need some time to process this,' 'I'm in a lot of pain but it's not your fault,' and 'I'm going hiking for six months, call me back when I'm done.' That's all I could think of in the moment, and now I'm here."

"That's rough."

"You're telling me." His shoulders dropped. "I'm used to breakups with jerks. That I can make peace with, because then it's like a problem that solves itself. Jerk breaks up with you, therefore no more jerk to deal with. But... when it's someone that you love, that you want the best for, and that means they have to move on... that's something I'm still trying to work out." He sighed hard and lowered his crimson eyes. "I think the rice is done."

You were so caught up in his pained explanation that you lost track of time. You quickly turned off the camp stove and set the pot on the ground.

"Thanks for reminding me." You grabbed your enamel bowl as he readied his and started dishing out the rice and broccoli. You both sat there in silence, enjoying the feeling of hot food in hand. "Anyway, I guess it's my turn to share."

"Please. I wouldn't want to dump my problems on you without hearing out yours."

"I had a breakup too, though honestly I think mine wasn't as rough as yours." You said.

"We all go through different things. It's not a contest." Desmond said, idly poking his steaming meal. "Tell me about it, if you want."

So you did. Over the course of the meal, you told Desmond all about your past relationship: the fights you had with your ex, the nights spent in separate sleeping arrangements, the endless worry over how much of it was your fault. He nodded sympathetically with each painful memory you unraveled to him. Remembering it all made you feel worse, but having him listen made it feel much better. When you had no more to say, he stared at you. You saw yourself reflected in his eyes. Your spoon was trembling.

"It's okay to cry. I won't mind." Was all Desmond said before you had to set down your food and hold your face in your hands. It's like you had been saving up a surplus of tears throughout all these events and just barely they were escaping you. You could hear Desmond awkwardly scoot over in the dirt to your side before he offered a rigid shoulder to you.

"Chitin isn't exactly memory foam, but..." You rested your head on him without a second thought. One of his claws found its way to your shoulder and you felt better for it. This was the first time you had mentioned your breakup out loud and unquestionably the first time anyone had offered you a shoulder to cry on, literally or figuratively.  You quickly came to find even Desmond's exoskeleton quite comfortable.

"Thanks for listening." You said as your sobs started to slow. He plainly chirred in response, making his grip on your shoulder a little tighter. His embrace was the first one you had felt since the breakup. You felt warm and safe in a way you had previously only had with your ex long ago. His neck fluff tickled you as he leaned his head onto yours.

"It's okay." You could feel his mandibles nudge your cheek as he spoke. "I know how hard it is." Your composure returned, and you stilled yourself against him. You finally removed your hands from your face, your eyes bloodshot.

"I'm glad I'm not wearing makeup." You chuckled weakly. "Otherwise my cheeks would look like a barcode right now."

"That's the spirit. Enjoy the little things." He rubbed your shoulder. "That's what the trail is all about."

You found yourself naturally holding Desmond closer, burying yourself in his neck fluff and wrapping an arm around his side as he held you. He smelled like pine and smoke. You grabbed your bowl of food once more and resumed eating, not leaving Desmond's side.

"I'm sorry for smearing my tears all over you." You said, coming back to reality. The taste of rehydrated cheesy rice wasn't great, but it was warm and familiar. Combined with Desmond's arm wrapped around you, the pain and baggage from the breakup left you like grime after a shower.

"It's alright." He said. "If moths could cry, I'd be crying all over you too. We're in the same shitty breakup boat."

He and you sat there together, finishing the meal. The camp stove had been turned off for a while now, and the only warmth you felt was your own, reflected off his chitin. The pause was permeated by lesser insects chirping and wind gently rustling the branches above. As you finished your food, you became painfully aware that Desmond couldn't hold you forever. He'd have to get in his sleeping bag eventually, and in the morning, continue his hike to nowhere other than your distant memories. Or, maybe...

"Want to share my sleeping bag with me?" The words left your mouth before you could even react. A second later, you realized what you had said and your heart raced. Your face found itself hidden in your hands again.

Why the fuck would you say that? Are you crazy? How would you feel if he randomly propositioned you for sex, huh? To which your responded to yourself with, Screw it, I'd be down for that.

Oh well. The fact he'd leave forever in the morning was both a blessing and a curse... but for now, mostly a blessing. It didn't matter if you were "rebounding" or doing something impulsive. Whatever happened tonight would stay in tonight. You and him would go your separate ways and there wouldn't be any regrets to be had. You practically held your breath as he processed what you said; the pause felt infinitely long.

"I'd love to." He broke the silence, his mandibles clicking more than usual. "Unless you're having second thoughts."

You looked up at him and shook your head. Wordlessly, he took your hand stood up with you. You led him to your dangling tarp wherein your sleeping bag and foam pad rested. Luxurious it was not, but as you slapped aside the flap and pulled Desmond in behind you, little else other than him was on your mind. You sat down on your "bed" and turned round, looking at him. His saucer-sized red eyes glowed as they met your gaze. He stepped closer.

"You're sure?" He said, kneeling before you. "I don't want to—"

You leaned forward and grabbed his head, clumsily planting a kiss where his mouth would be if he was human. It seemed to do the trick; he gasped and relaxed, his mandibles caressing your cheeks. You pulled back to breathe.

"I'm not asking you to marry me." You planted another kiss on him, tugging on his neck fluff. "I'm asking you to keep me company tonight."

"If you insist." He clicked. Something in his tone changed. For the first time his voice had timbre and need. He had left his tone suited for polite conversation and jokes outside your tarp. Here on your twin-sized foam pad, all pretenses were gone. You both knew you were going to give yourselves to each other; yet he surprised you by tugging the neck of your shirt down and scattering little kisses from your chin to your collarbone with his proboscis. It was rough and leathery and frankly didn't feel like anything you had touched before. You shuddered when he took it with him, descending past your breasts and peeling your shirt off your belly.

"Desmond..." You sighed, the only thing keeping this encounter casual being the button on your jeans.

"Everything alright so far?" He looked up at you with his large eyes, his mandibles brushing against your thigh as he spoke.

"Excellent." You breathed, resting a hand on the back of his neck fluff. "Please..." You used the same hand to ever-so-gently nudge him closer to your midst, which was already roiling with burning need. With a single claw, he carefully undid the button and zipper. You shimmied out of your jeans until his neck fluff  tickled the inside of your exposed thighs; your underwear soon followed. He clicked some more as you fully exposed your entrance to him, his eyes studying you and his claws gently finding their way to each of your legs.

"Forgive me, it's been a while." He said as he lowered his face into you. You reclined further, only gazing upwards to the tarp and a tiny patch of starry sky.

"Don't talk, just— Ah!" He pulled a gasp from you as he began his ministrations. With your head resting on the foam pad, you just closed your eyes and let the sensations fill you. Something of his, you weren't quite sure what, playfully danced around the edges of your entrance until it found its mark. It gently flicked across that tender nub and your hips bucked in response. You held his neck plumage tighter, desperately tugging him closer to you.

"Keep going, that's— oh, that's perfect..." He didn't resist your pull. If anything, as his fuzz tickled you and his mandibles started to prod at your folds he increased his fervor. Relentlessly he played across all parts of you at once. Hard chitinous mandibles spread you open while his proboscis felt like it was everywhere. It rubbed your bead with every advance it made into you, filling you with a tingling warmth that spread throughout your whole body. He didn't let up at all, your breath hitching and leaving you as moans. You rocked your hips and whined. Harder and harder, rhythmically to a rapidly increasing tempo. You gripped him tighter, burying his face into you. Ecstasy built within your core with each surge of his "tongue" until you could hold on no longer.

"Oh, oh!" You cried, your body seizing and legs locking around his shoulders. Pleasure crackled around your whole body and there, in the dark with Desmond wordlessly working you, you weren't sure how much time you spent at the peak. Slowly, the sparks behind your eyes stopped flying. Your breath resumed its normal rhythm. Lifting your head off your sleeping bag, you made eye contact with his glowing red orbs, the only source of light under your tarp.

"How did I do?" He chittered, his grin smug enough for you to sense even in the darkness.

"You were fantastic." You indulged him, running your hand through his fuzz as he crawled over top of you. He pressed his forehead to yours.

"I didn't tire you out, did I?" He asked before descending upon you and kissing you lightly. With the gap between you two closed, you felt something tumescent and twitching under his shorts brush against you.

"I suppose I can stay up some more." You giggled as his fuzz tickled your collarbone. "I'll just sleep in."

"Glad to hear it." Desmond rasped. His voice grew ragged as he nipped at your neck, cradling your chin in one claw and using the other to undo his shorts. In the darkness, you could only feel something slick, smooth, and long come to rest on your belly. You squeezed your thighs around it. Desmond immediately chirred louder than before, sounding like a baritone version of the insects outside. His deep timbre resonated inside you.

"Excited?" You teased, his length completely at your mercy as you held it between your legs.

"I've forgotten how warm humans feel." He rumbled.

"Can I jog your memory?"

"Please."

You released him from your thighs and reached down with a hand. You felt the entirety of his length in your grasp; it was delightfully slick and uniform with pleasant little ridges to encounter as your hand traveled towards his base. You grasped it gently, eliciting more bassy chitters from him as you angled it towards your entrance. You fumbled a bit in the darkness, but after a few tries his tip rested at your threshold. His eyes met yours.

"Ready?" He clicked.

"Go ahead." You gripped his shoulders and pulled him close, nestling your face in his fluff as he started entering you. His hips slowly began to close the distance, each ridge on his length pushing a squeak out of you. His pace was deliciously slow. You had just enough time to adjust but not to catch your breath. All you could do was hold him tight in the darkness, nothing but the sensation and his chirring to occupy your mind. It felt like an eternity of slowly being filled by him. Eventually, cool chitin met your wet bundle of nerves, sending electric pleasure up your spine and forcing a gasp out of you.

"That's all of it." He grunted, his body completely flush with yours. "Do you feel alright?"

"Give me a moment." you said, exhaling sharply. The sensation of fullness with him hilted completely within you took your breath away. Little moans escaped you as his shaft quivered inside your depths. Embracing him, you found a steady breathing rhythm once more. "Okay, you can move."

With only chitters in response, he buried his head in the nape of your neck, his mandibles poking and prodding as he peppered you with kisses. His hardness withdrew just as slowly as when he entered you, then returned with a steady tempo. Each time his hips rocked you moaned into his fuzz. You imagined if you and Desmond had met at a different time or a different place, you'd be voicing your pleasures into a pillow. Since he had started his rhythmic thrusts, Desmond held a low, purring chirr that surged each time his pelvis met yours.

He chittered something specific, completely forgoing English as he picked up speed. He released your shoulders from his grasp. Changing position, he now kneeled upright with his knees on either side of your rear and his claws firmly gripping your thighs. The new leverage and angle made you squeal. He pumped in earnest now, both the speed and impact making you moan with nothing to stifle your voice.

"Desmond!" You cried, one hand splayed above your head and the other reaching down to hold your sensitive bead, "Keep going!" His pace remained constant. The low chirr grew into a growl. He pounded over and over, his hips slamming into your ass. As if it took considerable effort, he wrestled his chitters back into grunting speech you could understand.

"Close," he said sharply, "getting close!" You decided against speaking, instead locking your ankles behind him and rubbing your nub feverishly to meet him at the brink. His pace quickened even more. His claws squeezed your thighs as he desperately held onto you— into you, his thrusts remaining deeper inside you as they mounted in strength. His chirring returned, ascending in volume and pitch into a strangled, desperate call. His gaze snapped skyward and his back arched and he desperately pulled at your entire body in an effort to seat himself as deep within you as he could. You cried out in time with him. Your voice reached its limits. You rubbed yourself with abandon as you felt his cock fire within you with great trembling pulses. The pleasure within you mounted, growing until it erupted with a crackling warmth that left you quivering and crying out. He held himself as deep as he could go, grinding his hips into yours. Hissing, he lowered himself upon you once more and kissed you hard. You wailed into his mandibles as you rode out your peak. His hard chitin ground into your nub and held you at your limit before his rolling hips finally relented. Still, but remaining deep within you, he broke away from the kiss. You caught your breath as your eyes locked.

"Goodness..." You panted. Your face burned. Streaks of cool wetness rolled from your eyes down your cheeks. Desmond's chirring slowed into nothingness. The only sounds left were your breathing and nature outside.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his usual tone returning slowly.

"I'm great, Desmond," You smiled, "but you managed to tire me out this time." He clicked, then slowly withdrew his softening length from your sensitive core. You felt something ooze out of you, but were too exhausted to do anything about it.

"Sleep, please." He said, stroking your hair with a claw. "I'll be right here. Don't worry about anything else."

When morning arrived, the hole in the roof of your tarp acted as a skylight. You had awoken fortuitously just before the golden beam would have shone burning rays straight into your eyes. You definitely slept in, but found yourself fully clothed. You expected to feel something regretfully sticky and wet in your underwear, but you were completely clean. For a moment, you considered that last night might have been a dream. That line of thought was cut short by the sound of boiling water and the smell of coffee creeping into your tarp.

You emerged to find Desmond sitting in front of a small fire, emptying granules of instant coffee into a pot.

"Coffee?" He offered. "It'll be done in a bit."

"Thank you, Desmond." You sat in the same spot as you did last night over dinner. The silence that followed was comfortable and warm, unlike last night's awkward pauses. You watched him shake the pot with a claw as the sun warmed you. "I guess I should also thank you for, um, cleaning me up. I kinda passed out on you there. Sorry."

"No, no. It's fine. I'm nocturnal, remember?" He looked up at you and grinned. "It felt good to take care of a sleeping human again. It reminded me of old times." His grin softened into a gentle smile. The instant coffee had fully dissolved and he pulled the pot from the fire. He filled, then offered you an enamel mug which you accepted. The aroma was cheap and comforting.

"I'm going to miss you." You held the mug tightly. You didn't meet his eyes as you spoke, instead staring into the coffee as if it would tell you what to do.

"Me too." Desmond responded.

"Could we... could you..." You searched for the best way to ask. "Would you want to be with me?" Desmond released a slow chitter. He shook his head, and his soft smile shifted further into a shallow frown.

"I'm sorry." He said softly. "I wouldn't feel comfortable whisking you away three weeks after your breakup. Hell, I'm five months out from my own and I'm still not sure about where I am emotionally." You nodded in response. The coffee in your hands cooled in the resulting silence.

"I guess this is where we part ways, then." You sighed.

"Maybe..." He finally met your gaze. "You're hiking northbound. That means you'll finish in what, five more months?"

"Four if I hurry."

"The trail ends in Maine. There's this tiny, tiny town up there." He mused. "When you finish the trail, look for me around town. I'll be there. If you still want to be with me... then we could pursue a relationship like normal people. Coffee dates and stuff. If not... well, I'll buy you lunch."

"Is that another one of your movie references?" You chuckled. His plan sounded like something straight out of a cheesy rom-com.

"I'm serious." He explained. "My mom lives up there, and I've got nowhere else to be in four to five months."

"How am I supposed to find you?"

"I'm pretty sure the town population is in the double digits, and I'm definitely sure that me and my mom are the only mothpeople there." You considered his offer. It was all you had to look forward to, really.

"Let's shake on it." You extended a hand to him over the dying embers. He reached out to meet you, but then suddenly paused. "What's wrong?" You asked, a pang of fear striking you.

"I have one condition: when you inevitably run into my mom, our story has to be something other than, 'we met up on the trail and had sex after an embarrassingly short conversation and a camera flash,' okay?" You burst into laughter, as did he. He took your hand in his claw and shook enthusiastically.

"We have a deal." You answered. "Don't worry, I'll come up with something good."

"You better. You've got four-to-five months to craft it." He clicked. You smiled.

When you both finished your coffee, you gave him a hug and enjoyed the feeling of his neck fuzz on your cheek one last time. The fire had gone out, you packed up your tarp and sleeping bag, and you took a few steps north on the trail. You stopped soon after and turned, watching him go. He disappeared into the foliage. Sighing, you resumed your hike. To pass the time you talked to yourself.

"Ah, so nice to meet you, Mrs. Moth-mom. Yes, of course, we met at a pottery class."

No! Stupid.

"We were flying kites in the park, and ours got tangled up together—"

Now you sound like you're referencing sappy rom-coms.

You sighed. At least you'd have a while to come up with something convincing.

[h2bakugou]

Hey sweetie, love ur work, was wondering if u could do a hc for some of the boys (mainly bakugou) of how theyd react to their s/o who struggles to get their words out and stutters a bit and gets insecure wen ppl laugh xx

a/n: hii!! tysm <3 of course!! i decided to do the main three for this one!! 

headcanon: them with an s/o who struggles to get their words out

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

Bakugou picks up on your habit fairly quickly. You tend to stay pretty quiet.

But when you’re alone and you do speak, he notices sometimes you struggle to get your words out.

You like to use short words/phrases often.

He doesn’t ask questions, he just assumes it’s normal-and it is.

However, he begins to wonder why you’re always so quiet.

That’s not until some rival school meets up for a training battle and a couple of dipshits start making fun of your stutter.

“Spit it out already!”

“I-I-I can’t understand you!”

They mock and tease you as you try to communicate with the team you’ve been partnered with. Oh how royally fucked they were because Bakugou, you’re boyfriend, was right beside you.

“You fucking idiots!” He yelled, charging toward them, sending huge explosions off in their direction.

“Leave them the fuck alone!” He would charge after them and proceed to beat the ever loving shit out of them until they’re mumbling their apologies to you.

“H-hey! Katsu, enough.” You touch Bakugou’s shoulder, pulling him back away from the group of boys.

“Just teaching these dumbasses a lesson about fuckin’ with what’s mine.” Bakugou slings an arm around your waist and practically carries you back to your team with you over his shoulder.

He’s very attentive, and while he can get frustrated sometimes, he’d never make you feel insecure. He’ll wait as long as you need to.

He can usually tell what you want based off of body language, but if it’s something romantic like a kiss or a hug, he wants you to be verbal about it, or he wants you to initiate it first.

Bakugou likes when you hold his hand while you speak, he likes the way you run your thumb across his knuckles. It makes him feel all giddy inside.

But he won’t tell you he likes this.

It’s not like you can’t tell with the way he practically leaps to hold your hand every time you even think about opening your mouth to speak.

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

He’s also very attentive and will listen to you.

He will not tolerate people talking over you or making fun of your stutter.

Once yelled at a group of kids who were making fun of your stutter while you guys were patrolling together <3

He really can’t stand when people mock you either. It’s just so rude.

Holds your hand if you like it.

You usually find yourself playing with his hair when you talk to him alone. Your fingers tangled in his green locks while you tell him about your day.

It helps take your mind off of little things that had been stressing you out. And Deku really enjoys it too.

Deku could listen to you talk forever. He loves the sound of your voice.

Even when you get insecure about things like seeming like it takes forever to tell a story, he’ll reassure you and rub your arms, or trace shapes on your legs while you continue, telling you how excited he is to hear what happens next.

HE LOVES TEXTING YOU TOO

Whether you send one big message or eighteen tiny ones about what you want to say, he’ll read all of it, over and over again, smiling thinking about how you’d sound saying it.

Deku is just soft for ur voice idk what else to say he loves it!!

He will urge you to finish your sentences if you ever get off track or distracted, reminding you where you left off, etc.

This can be really sweet but it might also seem a little pushy.

If this bothers you, he’ll gladly stop if you’d like him too! He just wants you to feel comfortable in knowing you’ve told him what you needed to!!

kisses your cheeks to fluster you sometimes which will make you a babbling mess and get you off topic in an instant. He doesn’t do this on purpose, usually only when he wants to kiss you but ur in public.

kiss him back on the lips to turn him into the babbling mess.

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

Shoto baby <3

He’s kinda quiet and reserved, but he really enjoys listening to you talk.

He actually speaks more with you than he does anyone else!

He definitely does not tolerate anyone speaking over you/cutting you off mid sentence and will not stand for someone mocking or teasing you.

He had to harp on Kaminari once.

“S-so uhm that’s why-”

“That’s why we need to work together!” Kaminari butted in, cutting you off. He wasn’t trying to be mean by any means, he’d just connected the dots out loud.

“They could’ve finished their sentence without an interruption.” Todoroki’s mouth formed into a thin line as he stared at the yellow-blonde.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Kaminari apologized to you, feeling a little embarrassed about being scolded by Todoroki.

“It’s a-alright. You got the gist o-of it.” You smiled, glancing back at Todoroki before mouthing a ‘thank you’ to him.

He hates seeing you get discouraged by people talking over you or getting mocked, especially by kids around your age.

You’re doing your best, hell you’re doing better than half the kids there, yet some pricks think it’s funny to tease you for having a stutter, or for taking a few extra minutes to finish what you’re saying.

Will absolutely put their asses on blast for the world to see.

He will not tolerate bullshit, I mean just ask his dad-

You enjoy using his hands, like the others, when you speak. Holding his cool hand to your cheek while you tell him a story helps you feel a little less embarrassed if you’re feeling self-conscious.

Or if you press his warm hand to your lips, kissing his finger tips before speaking, you feel calm.

He’s a flustered mess now, honestly trying not to interrupt you with a kiss.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist