#they really waited until pride month was over huh

[macaulaytwins]

idk what you guys are talking about, giving your best friend that you’re in love with relationship advice and then crying in the car right next to them afterwards IS flawless representation

[actual-changeling]

heaven doesn't take too kindly to him breaking in a second time.

aziraphale stops them, with his blood already staining their perfect fucking floors, and his hands are balled into shaking fists, his voice projecting more authority than ever. crowley waits until they're alone in the blinding corridors before allowing his body to collapse, hissing when pain flares across his back.

"crowley-" there is a shadow in his periphery, hands reaching for him, but he flinches out of reflex more than intention, taking twisted satisfaction in the strangled noise escaping aziraphale.

"fuck off." while audibly hoarse, the edge to his words is sharp.

with his palms pressed to the floor, he gets to his knees, head hanging down as he sucks in breath after breath to summon enough focus to fix himself.

"let me help-"

"i said FUCK OFF," he spits, glancing up at him through a curtain of red waves and pain. "what do you care anyway."

"of course i care," aziraphale shoots back immediately, somewhere between offended and distressed, and oh, crowley takes the same satisfaction in that, too, no matter how bitter it tastes.

purely out of spite and to regain whatever of his pride is left, he ignores the cut still sluggishly bleeding onto the floor and pushes himself upwards, managing to stand while swaying heavily. he's a fucking mess compared to aziraphale in his pristine archangel get-up, and it lures the anger out of him with ease.

"huh, considering those are your guys you really have a funny way of showing it."

they both know what he is doing, yet the guilt carved into his face is as real as the heartbreak etched into his own. someone knows he is tired of playing games, but that is all they have left now, isn't it? stupid fucking games, as if they hadn't drowned themselves in those for millennia.

"i stopped them, i didn't send them. you know that."

crowley doesn't even attempt to bite back the hollow laugh craving to be set free. it rips through him with pain in his wake, and if he doesn't heal that wound soon the blood loss will make him pass out. how annoying.

"oh, aren't you being hilarious today, archangel. none of this would have happened if you hadn't—"

left.

thirteen months and he still cannot say it. what a pathetic little creature he is, deep down, clinging to love and having nothing but anger to voice it. he understands, he must understand.

suddenly, he is very, very tired.

"i'll be on my way. not gonna clean up though, that's on you."

aziraphale stands frozen, watching, right there and warm and real. crowley barely avoids throwing up at the thought of letting it all go for one gentle touch. in the harsh light, he seems pale, his lips bitten raw, and crowley loves him so desperately it hurts. gritting his teeth, he heals the cut oozing all over his back and nearly topples over with relief. hold me, he doesn't say. help me. come back. i miss you.

"for what it's worth, crowley, i am sorry."

they look at each other, gold and purple-blue-something new. he refuses to believe in Her after everything, but he believes that they will fix this somehow. crowley swallows and his fingers twitch at his side when the light catches on the tears gathering on aziraphale's waterline. they will fix this.

they have to.

"yeah, me too."

three word sentences hiding the one they both cannot voice, yet he finds forgiveness cannot easily be forgiven, not this time.

(it still counts)

[xhdream]

treat it like it’s yours (18+)

from ─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special *ੈ✩

pairings: junhan x fem!reader

genre: smut wc: 4k

summary: your fuck buddy wakes up needy on christmas morning and invites you over, because he prefers your hand over his own, leading to a few broken rules and you ditching family gathering

contains: switch!reader, idol!junhan (or solo rockstar if u prefer it’s not specified), friends w/ benefits trope, explicit language, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (m), oral sex (m), dirty talk, pet names, choking (m/f)

a/n: please, keep in mind english is not my first language, i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

!! this is pure fiction for entertainment purposes

There are rules that come with having a fuck buddy.

You don’t talk about your dating life, you see each other only on the weekends; they usually depend on the person you’re sleeping with. But most friends with benefits have them, you and Hyeongjun weren’t an exception, especially after his singing career skyrocketed this year.

But now, as you ring the bell waiting for him to open the door, you come to the conclusion that you need to add one more to the list.

No nudes on Christmas.

When the door of Hyeongjun’s apartment opens you’re instantly welcomed by his smirk, that resembles the pride he feels by the fact he persuaded you to ditch your family breakfast.

“Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” He skims your figure up and down after locking the door behind you. The outfit you have going on - pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt under your coat - proves you left the house in a hurry after the call, and that makes his grin grow even bigger.

“You were begging so much I would have felt bad if I had to make you wait any longer.”

The satisfaction of his win is written on his face, but it still couldn’t hide the exhaustion from the continuous long nights spend in the studio.

You leave your keys along with the bag in which you’ve brought actual clothes to change into later, and as you’re still in the hallway Hyeongjun takes your hand, spinning you around to face him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, placing his warm fingers on your jawline. “I’m serious, thank you so much.”

You missed hearing his husky sleepy voice these two and a half weeks you haven’t seen each other, but that’s a dangerous thought for your mind, so you push it away the second it pops up.

He doesn’t give you a chance to say much. Instead, he presses your back against the wall in the narrow hallway before smashing his lips against yours. He separates them right away only to moan into your open mouth showing clearly how impatiently he was waiting for this moment. Your tongues clash together, devouring each other’s taste until Hyeongjun pulls back just enough to let you catch your breath.

Two seconds later he leans in for your lips, but you hold him back by pressing a hand to his chest.

“You woke up very needy today, Hyeongjun.” Your fingers tug on the loose fabric of his graphic tee to control the urge to just strip it off his body. You could feel his excited heartbeat against your palm before moving it lower to his waist. “Was it really so urgent it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You gasp playfully when you rub the contour of his bulge. It’s hard as a rock, and you can feel it so clearly, because he didn’t put effort into wearing any underwear under his sweats. You grab the shape with your hand which causes him to humm approvingly.

“I’m done waiting, Y/N…” He leans with both hands on the wall behind you, and you can see his facial features contorted from his needs. “Need you now… please.” His plead comes with a hip thrust against your hand, searching for any kind of friction.

“Get on the bed.”

He smiles at your command, and heads to the bedroom which is a mess, because he woke up not too long ago. You follow after him, entering the space that after so many months you know like the back of your hand. Everything looks the same, but also slightly different, and you can’t really tell why.

He leans back on the headboard of the bed, watching you crawl up to strip him off of his pants. Too cautious not to interrupt or slow down any of your movements his hands hang in the air.

You haven’t even done anything yet and his lips are already parted from excitement. The head of his cock is flushed with a tip oozing of precum, that tempts you to stick out your tongue right away. When you finally taste it, Hyeongjun cusses through a satisfied grin, that you couldn’t look away from.

“Don’t be a tease, baby,” he sighs blissfully, placing both hands behind his neck.

You give his tip a soft kiss, then one more, before twirling your tongue.

“Thought you like it when I tease you.” You look up at him, caressing his thighs. The new subtle contact of your playful tongue makes him hiss through teeth.

“Not when I haven’t felt you in weeks, I miss you.”

You look away, trying to repress the emotions that his words bring inside your chest; that force you into thinking that maybe after all this time they’ve started having a more deeper meaning than just dirty talk.

Hyeongjun follows the corners of your lips moving upwards into a half-smile. He realises that he really likes it when you come over not wearing any makeup, and the only things painting your face are lust and the mess he creates with his cock.

“Take it in your mouth, please baby, please..” he utters after he feels your fist going around his erection. “All of if.”

Your lips stretch to finally wrap around him. His body stays still, as you slowly go lower aiming to press against his pubic bone. Long and deep breaths fill the air around you while you hold for a few seconds, allowing your spit to dribble down, before moving onto bobbing your head.

“Ahh, fuck-“ Hyeongjun buries one hand in your hair wanting you to keep up the nice pace of your sucking exactly as it is. “Feels so nice, mmm..” His palm presses against your head for even deeper reach into your throat every time you get close to his lower tummy where a tight knot starts to form. He wants to see your hollowed cheeks, so he decides to take all of your hair in a loose ponytail to expose your face. “God, you have no idea how much I missed your mouth.”

He lets go when you pull back to breathe in deeply. Your thumb massages the sensitive spot of his red tip, as your fist now replaces your mouth.

“We’ll have to think of some kind of punishment or something,” you say, trying to distract yourself from his talking after you spit on it for even bigger mess. “Today marks the third time we break a rule, we shouldn’t get used to it.”

“You mean you broke a rule,” he manages to grunt past his moans before shutting his eyes. The stimulation builds up more and more, causing him to tug on the sheets.

“Yeah, but you manipulated me into it, the blame is on you too.” You trace your tongue on the side of his throbbing length before asking. “Was it necessary to send me your dick when everyone around me can see?”

“Y-you… fuck-“ He stops, glancing at the gentle motions of your fist attached around the head of his cock. Your thumb keeps going over his leaky tip and that drives him nuts. “As if you didn’t lie that you’re not coming over just to make me beg.”

You take a peek at his amused expression, while forcing your hand to twirl around his member in an infuriating speed.

He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right either.

At first you refused to come, because it’s time for you to distance yourself from him. Nevertheless, deep down you had hopes that he will call you back begging, and for better or worse - that’s what he did.

“Fine…” Hyeongjun lifts up his head from the cushion, panting with the urge to release the pressure as soon as possible. “I’ll take the punishment for you, just make me feel good, baby, please…”

You reply only with a smile, as you stand up from the bed, cause you actually don’t mind his offer. You can really use the opportunity to make him stop talking to you all of these things you couldn’t bare listening to right now. You get rid of your pajama pants and slip down your panties, pushing them inside his mouth.

He throws his head back, stretching his lips to take as much as he can from them. The spark that glows in his captivating gaze catches your attention, and you maintain eye contact as you fill his mouth with the colorful lace.

After you kneel between his legs, you reach with one hand to lift him up from his back by gripping on his shirt. His eyes widen with surprise from your rougher action that also makes his drenched cock twitch seconds before you grab it.

“That’s so sweet,” you begin to work your fist around it, spitting some more. “You’ll do anything just to get your dick sucked.”

Hyeongjun looks down tempted from the thrilling way you use it to press against his flesh; the hypnotising way you slide it up and down, creating lewd noises. As your hand doubles its speed, his chest begins to rise rapidly, but the fabric in his mouth represses his moans, turning them into muffled whimpers.

“Should we make you cum now?” You bite on your lip, suddenly slowing down, causing his legs to shift irritatingly around you.

After he coats your underwear with a husky groan as a yes, you return to jerking him off through a gradually growing pace. You lightly wince, not expexting his hands to land on your thighs, gripping your skin. The force he uses to squish on your flesh, as he bares the hot rush that’s about to burst, turns you on, but not as much as his limited ability to be vocal.

“So close, aren’t you?”

You decide to take things a step further and wrap your free hand around his neck. The arousing sound that loosely escapes him as a result brings you such a sweet thrill, you immediately question yourself why you’ve never tried choking him before. He keeps growling desperately into your panties, and you can feel the vibrations against your palm. You squeeze some more to feel them even clearer, making yourself more wet at the same time.

Hyeongjun rolls his eyes back, and for a moment his whole body freezes before convulsing from the overwhelming climax, that washes over him only seconds later. The creamy white essence spills all over him, and down at the bedsheets as the relief settles into his body.

After he releases everything he’s got, he spits out the underwear into your hand, and kisses you deeply on the lips before falling down on the mattress.

“No one does it like you.” He mumbles with his eyes closed, sounding even more tired now.

You go find your bag, and begin to change your clothes in silence. Hyeongjun is still resting on his back with his head tilted to one side, as you get ready. After some time of you walking on your tiptoes, thinking he’s drifted off to sleep, you find out he’s awake, because he calls out to you.

“What’s going on?” He notices the dark colored dress that wraps around your silhouette tightly, and then your hands that clap an earring to each of your ears. “Are you leaving already?”

“Yeah, I have a date.”

“A date? What date?”

“With… someone.” You carefully choose your words, not really sure how to go about it. The only thing you’re one hundred percent certain about is that you shouldn’t turn around to face him, or you will never actually say it. “I think he wants to make it official.”

Hyeongjun’s mind is still foggy, and it takes him some time to realise the heaviness of your words; the unusual seriousness in your tone that speaks them out.

On fucking Christmas? Of course.

“Do you want him to make it official?” He asks.

You shrug. You haven’t even asked yourself this question yet.

“Come here, Y/N.”

“I-I told you, I have to go now, or I’ll be late.” You attempt to sound firm as best as you can.

You hear some movements behind you, but you still can’t find the strength to face him.

“Y/N, don’t make me repeat myself.”

You walk towards him, and find him sitting on the edge of the bed. The moment you look into each other’s faces you realise the mistake you’ve made. You had the perfect opportunity today to finally end this; after two and a half weeks of not seeing each other you just began to think less about him, and from tomorrow that’s going to be harder to achieve than ever.

“You didn’t had makeup on when you got here,” he points out, caressing your left thigh with his hand.

“I was in a hurry,” you reply, gaining back your friendly casual tone. “You sounded desperate, babe.”

“Did I?”

You feel his gaze starting to feel warm and heavy on your skin. Was it foolish of you to think that he’s never looked at you like this before?

His slender fingers slide under the hem of your dress, but you don’t dare to look down.

You want him more than you want to admit. But even if there was a chance… what was your relationship going to look like? You constantly waiting on the phone up all night, counting the days to spend one weekend with him until he slips away from you again.

“You look so gorgeous.” Hyeongjun drops his hand down your leg, brushing the back of your knee with fingertips. As he captures all of your beauty, at the back of his mind he cannot block the thought of how infuriating it would be to give it up to someone else; even when that’s the right thing to do. “Don’t go.”

“Hyeongjun…” Your hitched breath slips from your glossy lips, and he loves how it makes his name sound even more enticing.

“I’m not done with you,” he cuts you off even before you got the chance to open your mouth. “Get on your knees for me.”

You settle down between his legs just to notice his half-soft cock starting to twitch from a new erection.

“Does he know you’re here?” His hand moves some of your hair behind your ear before cupping your face gently.

“No.”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes for too long, and you lean with your cheek into his palm, shifting your gaze.

Soon enough he lifts your chin up, forcing you to look up while two of his fingers go through your lips. The rush of arousal he instantly feels as you make the next step of moving forward to suck on as much as you can from them completely gets him hard, and he tells you to join him on the bed.

And that’s what you do.

Your head drops on the cushions where he laid down earlier, and he swiftly gets on top of you, moving up until his knees reach your shoulders. He removes his shirt before taking his cock and guiding it to your mouth. The second you give him a small entrance by separating your glistening lips, he shoves it all the way in one quick motion.

You didn’t expect it, so you yelp from surprise, but the sound gets lost from his dick filling your entire mouth. You press your flat tongue against his skin, as his tip gets lost in the warmth of your deep throat.

He groans weakly, watching your pretty eyes through your fluttering lashes, and your brows knit together, as he pulls out half of his length only to push every inch back inside.

His hips move back and forth a few times, but suddenly stop when he scoffs above you with a sharp smirk, emptying your mouth.

“It’s not wet enough, sweetheart.”

It’s wet, it’s just not as much as he likes it.

While he lets a thick string of spit fall from his tongue, you take the time to gather some of your own. You lift up ready to take it, but Hyeongjun completely dismisses you.

“Don’t,” he sticks his fingers into your open mouth, pushing you back into the cushion. “I’ll do it myself, baby.”

Your throat quickly begins to burn from his intense thrusts that make the head of his cock hit it with force. He moves his body just like he does when you take him from behind - same speed, same wild emotion. It causes you to clench around nothing, and wet your second pair of underwear.

Hyeongjun doesn’t show his rough dominance often, at least not to you, but every time he does, it’s like you fall in love with him all over again.

You start to gurgle in defeat, but the lewd erotic sound in addition to the arousing vibrations provokes him more; your nails stab the skin of his thighs, but the pain motivates him to do three more pushes before he lets you breathe.

“Holy shit—“ he groans, panting from the high stimulation.

His hazy eyes don’t leave you out of sight, as you struggle to normalise your breathing. He reaches for your face, as he hovers over you, spreading the drool that’s running down your chin all over your swollen mouth.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” He bites his lip, enjoying the look of your makeup beginning to blur. “Now I can cum.”

After you nod, gripping on him with both hands, you sense his orgasm creeping up from the way he throbs between your hollowed cheeks, and his voice breaking in the middle of his wails that disappear into the hot thick air.

Your eyes well with tears, and you cannot do anything except let them stream down your cheeks while you try your best not to gag, and think about the soreness in your jawline.

Just when you feel like you cannot do this anymore Hyeongjun pulls out, eager to orgasm on your face. You fight for breaths under his weight while his warm seed sinks into your flushed skin.

He keeps your head steady by holding your throat, making sure everything lands where it belongs. Your makeup is now completely a mess - black ink running down along with his white fluids sticking everywhere.

To him, you’ve never looked more beautiful.

You manage to slowly open your teary eyes after you feel him gather some of his release from your chin in order to give you a taste.

You close your lips around his fingers once again, and suck them clean. The tip of your tongue runs against his middle finger before Hyeongjun decides to move back.

“How many times can you make me cum, huh?” His hands lift up the dress to your waist, and quickly expose your lower body by stripping you from your tights.

Your legs attach to his shoulders, as he’s slipping your panties to the side, feeling the moisture on his fingers right away. The way you got soaking wet just from him fucking your mouth brings a smug look to his face.

“Did you lose your voice, baby? So easily?”

“N-no…” you mumble through much raspier voice.

He doesn’t finger you, nor eat you out, cause he doesn’t need to.

His cock slides inside you with ease, causing your entire body to react from the sudden, but needed touch. Your mouth drops from a vocal gasp when his hips start to slam against you, brushing your pulsing walls by gliding through the slickness.

“S-shit…” He looks down, hissing and pulling your thin underwear with fingers. “Missed this tight pussy, did she miss me?”

You whine in response, as your mind becomes fuzzier from him speeding up so much your head is almost about to hit the wall. You begin to chant his name desperately while tugging on the sheets with both hands, watching his face scrunching up from the forceful sensation.

“God, Y/N… You look like a true slut right now,” Hyeongjun groans, landing his palm almost like a slap on your sloppy face. He feels how almost all of his cum has sticked on your skin, as he tilts your head side to side, enjoying the smeared mess. He lets go of your panties in order to move your left leg on his right shoulder next to your other one. “Gotta fuck you like one, right?” He hugs your thighs and the lewd sounds of skin smashing against skin keeps going, encouraging even louder moans to fly out of his mouth.

“P-please, d-don’t stop-“ You look up, barely able to keep your eyes open. But you want to look at his fucked out face; how it glistens from sweat, and how his eyes squeeze from the amount of pleasure that’s making him weak.

You reach for his arm, wishing to pull him closer, and for the first time he slows down.

His soft hair falls into your face when he drops on his hands, pressing your legs against your chest. You feel his burning gaze fixated on your features, as his cock picks up the pace, reaching your sweet spot even better than before.

“It’s what you need, baby,” He whispers, and in the silence that follows his words, you can hear the squelching sound coming from your dripping wetness. “You love when I beg on my knees, but the truth is… you need me to tame you…”

Although the knot in your core burns your insides from being dangerously close to snap, and blurs your scattered thoughts together in one white space, you still try to give a respond, but your ringtone silences you before you get the chance.

Hyeongjun glances to the side, finding your cellphone on his nightstand. He reads the unfamiliar name, and instantly remembers your words from earlier.

He must be wondering where you are.

“Gonna pick up?” His voice breaks in the middle from not being able to control himself so well anymore. He doesn’t let this slow down the on going deep pounds, meeting your cervix.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, as the melody fades away from the pleasure lingering in your bodies. The only thing you can hear is his hitched panting, and your own high pitched moaning.

You shake your head dismissively, pulling strands from his scalp.

“H-harder, please-“

And just when you wished for it your knot snaps, leading to Hyeongjun swallowing each of your screams.

He hasn’t cummed yet, but he sees stars from the way you spasm around his poorly erected cock. You squish his thickness harshly making it harder to move, but he still manages to make slow deep circles, as you come down from your high. He devours every second of this; it feels so nice having your figure squirming under him like before.

You’re not sure when exactly, but your phone starts ringing again. You don’t know if this is the second, third or fourth call.

Hyeongjun stands on his knees, and chases his peak while holding your legs spread apart. The loud whimpers slipping from his lips become uncontrollable, as the powerful overstimulation takes over every single part of his body.

He desperately wants to say something. That he wants you to stay over tonight; he doesn’t care that you’ll break another one of your rules, that he didn’t even wanted in the first place.

That you shouldn’t meet up with him.

However, he doesn’t utter a word.

His mind goes almost numb under the influence of the built up desire. All of his senses are intoxicated by your warmth, curves, and lustful gaze.

He quickly succumbs to the pressure, and pulls out to finish himself off all over your dress. The moment his soft cries fill the room, you realise you’ve never heard such sound from him before.

His head falls back while he fists his cock swiftly, then lifts up again to watch his orgasm shoot ropes of cum onto your stomach, spraying all the way up to your neckline. The thick splotches seep into the fabric seductively, making the dress unwearable.

You both meet each other’s eyes, catching a glimpse of the same kind of surreal energy that feels brand new.

Hyeongjun caresses your knees, then your calves still breathing heavily, as you anticipate the moment he’s going to say something; something that will make this situation more clear.

Whatever you had in this shared silence suddenly gets interrupted by your phone receiving another call from the same number. Without a word Hyeongjun leaves the bed headed towards the door.

Maybe it’s time for you to pick up.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

[aqricus]

DANDELION WINE ! feat. kaeya alberich

M SAYS <3 … “one month into your relationship, kaeya discovers you’re affectionate when you’re drunk.”

+ MINORS DNI. female reader. suggestive content. hurt/comfort if you squint. pretty boy kaeya appreciation.

“still with me?”

feeling the weight resting on his thighs shift at his quiet inquiry, kaeya lifts the weathered textbook he’d been keeping himself occupied with to peek down at his lap. glassy, clouded eyes meet his as you roll onto your back with an intelligible mumble, and he smiles. the gentle caress of torchlight swathes your features in a myriad of dying golds and oranges, highlighting the faintest rosy tinge to the apples of your cheeks and informing him of the amount of alcohol still sloshing around in your system.

“just barely, huh?” his head lolls back against the trunk of the oak tree he’s been leaning against for the past hour, waiting for you to sober up enough to endure the uneven slopes and divots in the earth on the way back to your cottage. after a moment, his eyes flick away from the torches illuminating the sides of the scuffed dirt side path that winds all the way back to his brother’s winery.

“mhm,” you hum distantly; and, for a moment, he almost believes you. you appear perfectly content, lying cradled in soft blades of grass that whisper impishly against the exposed skin of your legs and tickle your bare, painted toes. your sandals are cast elsewhere, a few smudges of dirt tarnishing the fabric of your gingham dress. 

kaeya chuckles to himself. if you weren’t drunk—well, not completely . . . perhaps toeing the slim line between tipsy and drunk—you would’ve never even considered lying on the ground, afraid of insects crawling over your skin and ruining your dress. so, watching you completely at ease as you idly twirl the stem of a sweet flower between the pads of your fingers, your head propped on his lap, is rather amusing.

“whatcha readin’?” your eyes are round in the gloom, sparkles of interest beaming through a haze of inebriation, and kaeya doesn’t have the heart to remind you that you’ve already asked him the same question twice.

“it’s a guide to all the flowers and herbs in mondstadt,” kaeya relays a shortened version of his previous explanations. “i borrowed it from lisa so i could test myself on poisonous plants, but that proved poor at holding my attention, so now i’m reading up on dandelions.”

dandelions. it’s kind of ironic, really.

mondstadt has always prided itself on the unique production of its dandelion wine, a secret concoction of ambrosia and nectar befitting only the tongues of archons to be bottled and sold to customers arriving from the widest seas and tallest mountains for just a taste of its splendor. yet, despite having lived in mondstadt for about a year, you never got around to trying it—well, until it was revealed to kaeya. he’d whisked you down to dawn’s winery shortly after your confession, insisting that he cover your very first experience and refusing all attempts at repayment.

thinking back on it now, a stitch of guilt pricks at his chest. he should’ve cut you off sooner; but, he’s always been particularly susceptible to suggestion around you, a pushover whose concern or reluctance has almost always been placated by a longing kaeya, please? and a twinkle in your pretty eyes. you’d just seemed so enthralled by the wine that he hated to interrupt your fun, especially when it gave him an excuse to drink alongside you; but, eventually, even your beaming smile and words of gratitude for introducing it to you were overshadowed by his need to ensure your safety.

now, here he is, handling the consequences of his failure to pull himself together.

you gasp. “kaeya,” your tone is so scandalized that his eyebrows twitch, a perplexed smile crossing his lips. “are you trying to . . . to steal what’s-his-face’s recipe?”

kaeya’s shoulders quiver slightly with laughter. “no, of course not.”

you shift your shoulders, sliding back so that your head is pillowed by the slim valley between his thighs. a teasing grin splits your lips. “i’m gonna tell diluc . . . and, he’s gonna get you.” kaeya snorts when you wiggle your fingers at him.

with a dreamy giggle and a twist of your hips, you roll onto your side and squish your cheek against the lean muscle of his thigh. kaeya feels your fingers curl gently into his shirt, abandoning the previous object of your attention in favor of readjusting yourself so you’re cuddled even closer to him. it’s embarrassing, the way kaeya’s cock twitches at the sudden pressure near his crotch, stripping your affectionate gesture of its innocuity with zero regard for your intoxicated, spacey state of mind. 

he exhales sharply to dispel the thoughts seeping through the back of his brain and gently strokes his knuckle over your temple to distract you while he shifts into a more . . . comfortable position.

according to the fragments of your past he’s unearthed in the past month, dating has never really been your cup of tea, always prioritizing your own self-security and peace of mind over validation offered by romantic or sexual partners. kaeya is your first real relationship, your first genuine, emotional attachment constructed upon a foundation of trust and communication. 

you’re a novice; but, then again, so is he. all fumbling hands and a tension he can’t always mask as he navigates the uncharted waters of courtship and dating—a flamboyant, ornate ship gilded with faux splendor and flanked with decorative cannons too weak to combat any of the rocky obstacles that threaten to scrape and strip away every diamond embellishment down to the frail, flimsy wooden skeleton beneath. 

it’s not as if he doesn’t enjoy being with you—no, no, there’s not a person alive he would rather spend his time with. relationships are just . . . different from flirting. they’re vulnerable. they’re all about trust. they’re about discovering and acknowledging one’s faults and bad habits. they’re a bit . . . intimidating.

nevertheless, it’s intriguing, the way you manage to eclipse his years of experience with ease, canceling out years of practiced, casanova-smooth quips capable of turning women into puddles of goo and blighting his own self-assurance of his standing among mondstadt’s most untouchable bachelors. 

oddly enough, he’s positive it’s your lack of experience that gives you a leg-up on him, from your bold, risque statements that turn out to merely be jests to your obliviousness when pressing up against him for a tight hug or accepting an invitation to climb into his lap that he genuinely did not expect you to take seriously. even now, as your arms fold over your chest to preserve body heat, tucking under your breasts and causing them to swell slightly under your dress’s neckline, and his eyes trace over the alluring, smooth dip of your hip into your waist, he wonders if you’re secretly teasing him.

kaeya’s forefinger brushes softly over the slope of your jaw, eyes softening at the way the corners of your lips quirk into a small smile. the amount of naive trust you place in him is to be expected of a first relationship. you’re fortunate he has no intention of releasing you into the arms of anyone else, as selfish and self-loathing as his decision makes him feel. 

he isn’t good enough for you, that he knows. you deserve someone more suitable. someone who isn’t burdened with abandonment attachment issues and doesn’t pretend they don’t exist. someone without hands tarnished by deceit or self-deprecating labels etched into their soul in blood-red.

but, he wants to be good enough for you. so, he will be. one day. he just hopes you’ll stick around until then. 

something dark, grotesque, accompanied by an icy touch and hollow eyes—fear, he’s learned to call it—squeezes his chest at the thought of you realizing you’re better off without him. without thinking, his hand curls around the back of your head. your eyes flick open when you feel him tentatively lift your head to plant a fleeting kiss on the side of your forehead, just above your temple.

“what’s that for?” you ask when his hand falls away.

kaeya forces himself to crack a carefree, lopsided smile as you settle back into your place on his lap. “what?” he chuckles. “i can’t just kiss you because i feel like it?” 

your nose wrinkles playfully, and suddenly the grip constricting around his chest is relinquished. “‘course you can,” you murmur, so quiet it’s nearly whisked away by the spring breeze. “i do it all the time.” your smile is pretty, crinkles of mirth appearing at the corners of your eyes and a sheen of firelight dancing along two rows of teeth. he can’t help but return a fond smile of his own. “just curious.”

your eyes flutter shut again, pointedly marking the end of the conversation. kaeya opens his book once more; but, he doesn’t register any of the ink stamped across the page, much less the dark coffee stain wrinkling the next page he absent-mindedly flips to when he feels a puff of your breath ghost over his belt. all he can focus on is the weight of your head on his lap and the loose grip of your fingers twisted into his shirt. does this make him a bad boyfriend, being so tangled in thoughts warped by his own prior interactions with women and men alike that his mind starts to drift to a place you’d least expect it? surely—hopefully—not. right?

a few minutes later, he’s relieved of his suffering when his book is abruptly nudged out of his line of sight, propped up by your fingertips to reveal a set of narrowed eyes peering up at him. kaeya chuckles at the wrinkle etched into your forehead. your eyebrows are drawn over your eyes in a furrow of concentration as you visibly ponder something he’s sure is either nonsensical or impractical.

“hi,” he acknowledges with a quiet smile. but, when you fail to respond, aside from a further slitting of your eyes, he tries again. “is something wrong? do i have something on my fa—”

kaeya’s head reflexively flinches back when you sit bolt upright, a couple inches shy of bumping your forehead into his. “hey—” his jaw snaps shut, and he automatically tenses up when you silently, slowly scoot closer to him until your face hovers dangerously close to his—so close that he’s positive he could count your pores if it weren’t so dark out. the ghost of your breath caresses his slender cupid’s bow, and he finds himself subconsciously swiping his tongue over his bottom lip.

the angle of your head shrouds half your face in shadow, yielding a twinkle of something unidentified yet soft in your eye as all the whimsical and capricious flickers of orange ebb away to reveal something sobering—something more controlled and earnest than he’s seen from you all night. torchlight bleeds around you, encapsulating you in a subdued halo of gold. 

for a moment, he wonders if you’re going to kiss him, but then, you mumble something that sends his brain into a tailspin.

“freckles . . . you have freckles.”

stilling, kaeya pauses for a moment to process your words, visible eye meeting a gaze so steadfastly focused and affectionate despite the wisps of inebriation floating amidst your irises that his breath snags in his throat. that’s right . . . no matter what you consume or how you behave, you’re still you. you’re still the starry-eyed lady from liyue whose heart is big enough to both reside in a gold locket strung around his neck as well as somehow pour forth an abundance of love and kindness on a daily basis. 

however, out of all the fatuous comments and gibberish he expected from you following the events of tonight, this certainly was not it. he openly snorts at your innocuous remark, and when all you offer is a quizzical tilt of your head, he lifts a hand. your skin is hot as he places his palm against your cheek, and your smile soon matches his when his thumb gently strokes over your cheekbone. “i do,” he confirms, relaxing.

“you do . . .” you murmur, as if committing it to memory. kaeya lets his hand drop down to your shoulder, still focused on your face even as he starts absently smoothing up and down your bare arm. “when did you get them?” you squint.

“i’ve always had them,” it’s something that you already know, having noticed his freckles a year ago when you two first became acquainted through venti, who practically dumped you in kaeya’s lap after having found you sullied and disheveled in the forest skirting the edge of mondstadt. your grin is much like it was then, eyes volleying between the dainty dusting of dark speckles and his single eye as if pleasantly surprised by the revelation. he feels the same electric twinge in his stomach, the same pair of ticklish butterfly wings caressing his chest, the same concern for his appearance when in such close proximity with you. 

the only difference now is that you’re his.

your eyes peruse over his features—princely, you’d described them as once—and you speak again, reigniting another wave of heat that floods his chest and threatens to scale the column of his throat all the way up to the tips of his ears. “you’re pretty, kaeya.”

kaeya is no stranger to flattery, whether proffered by daring women or fellow knights impressed by his exemplary skill; but, this is new. having been on the receiving end of dashing! handsome! strong! attractive! he’s become almost desensitized to such descriptions, the fiery thrill of being praised doused by repetitive adjectives from people who either all look the same or are not truly interested in him beyond his picturesque, flirtatious surface and proficiency in sword-wielding. 

however, pretty is something he’s had yet to hear.

he always knew you found him pleasing to the eye, from your soft fingertips that would trace over every rise and dip in his face when you think he’s asleep to the marvel in your eyes when admiring his side profile. but, this is something different, especially when succeeded by a velvety purr of his name that so effortlessly drips off your tongue like the sweetest honey and glazes his brain in a saccharine cocoon. 

he’s positive most of his fellow knights would blanch or wince at such a “feminine” compliment; but, when your eyes so lovingly trace the delicate slope of his nose, his plush lips, and the long fan of eyelashes that sweep low over his periwinkle eye, suddenly he feels as if he’s just as winsome and refined as you claim him to be. it’s as if the word belongs to him, a hushed secret only the two of you will ever be privy to.

his laughter is awkward, a breathy huff that’s barely audible over the rustling of foliage as a delicate breeze stirs the oak leaves. it’s difficult to mask his nerves, to pretend that his ears aren’t prickling with heat and the faux fur lining the collar of his coat isn’t borderline stifling. “am i?” he teases.

the answer drips down his spine in the form of a single bead of sweat when you nod slowly and respond earnestly, “mhm, real pretty.”

kaeya does his best to disregard the slight yet noticeable increase in speed that his heartbeat undergoes. “you flatter me.” fortunately enough for him, maintaining an even tone, even when his confidence is rocked off balance, is child’s play.

your relationship is relatively new, only existing for a month after being woven together by so many frequent—sometimes downright unexpected—intersections of your lives that even lisa gushed about your future together having been composed by the stars long ago. there are still a couple times where kaeya finds himself a bit tense around you, caught off guard by some gesture or sentimental words; but, the flutter of his chest and the light tingle in his palms are in no way unwelcome to him. 

can you truly blame him? prior to your debut in his life, kaeya had never been one for labels, instead thriving off temporary attention without letting himself become too attached. that simply was never his style, because the closer one became to him, the more difficult it became for kaeya to want to maintain that glamorous, untouchable facade. he wanted to share a deeper level of understanding with someone, but he also didn’t. he wanted to dabble in relationships and experiment with real, authentic emotions instead of the finely honed ones he constructed for himself, but he also didn’t. he wanted to be somebody to someone, more than a brother or a sparring partner or a fair-weather comrade or an unattainable stranger, but he also didn’t. 

it was safer to lay low, fly under the radar, remain in the corner and simply observe. besides, if the little cat-and-mouse games he often used to shield himself from the unspoken truths and fabricated lies crackling painfully like wildfire in his chest didn’t ward off potential relationships, then the amusement he always derived from watching people scramble to clean up the sticky situations he placed them in surely would.

but, oddly enough, not with you.

with you, it was always so . . . easy.

easy, he feels his defenses crumble to dust under the weight of your gaze and his spine subconsciously draw taller when you lean a fraction of an inch closer. there’s nothing easy about anything in life.

but, loving you? it’s somehow the easiest thing he’s ever done.

your voice is mellow, soft, focused on enunciating all of your words so you can be certain he understands you. “‘s your eye,” you mumble, “it looks like a crystal . . . or a little pond. so dark and deep, like i could just fall right in and drown. i think that’d be a nice death, don’t you?”

up until this point, you’ve always been on the receiving end of the flirting, having experienced enough of kaeya’s dreamy one-liners and compliments to last a lifetime. so, now that the tables have turned, he suddenly finds himself at a bit of a loss.

“and you smell really good,” kaeya’s heart yields one uncharacteristically loud pulsewhen you shift closer to prove your point, the delicate scent of your perfume wafting off your skin as you bump your nose into his shoulder. it’s sweet, inviting, and sends warmth trickling down to the pit of his stomach. “kinda like . . .” you hum.

“kinda like . . . like mint and grapes.” you finally decide. “and your hair is really soft, and i like when you let me braid it.” your eyelashes flutter, eyes still glassy. “and, you have this, right here,” your hand lifts, fingertip landing on his cupid’s bow. “i like to look at it a lot. ‘s really nice. and, your cheeks, and your . . . eyebrows, and your nose . . .” each separate facial feature receives a gentle, curious graze of the pad of your index finger, and kaeya smiles quietly, fondly, as you trace your finger down the slope of the bridge of his nose. “you’re like a prince, kaeya, like you just . . . jumped right out of a book, or something. your skin is really soft, too.”

when your fingertips brush his chiseled cheekbone, he doesn’t even try to contest the urge to lean into your touch, and your eyes light up when his jaw nestles into your palm. kaeya can’t remember the last time he’s received compliments this specific, but he’s certain that you mean every single word, the barrier of logic and decision-making you always relied on to filter your words now dissolved by the wash of alcohol to let every little thought and affection flow freely without restraint. 

perhaps it’s better that you’re too intoxicated to notice all the fine details of his expressions and body language when he’s hearing such things for the first time; otherwise, he knows you would be mentally filing it away to renew during the most inconvenient times for fun. right now, all he can do is sit there beneath you, lips parted slightly, eyes feverishly searching yours for something—a shred of doubt, maybe? he doesn’t even really know. 

there’s a pang of something bitter in his heart despite its chaotic, lively thumping; and, he wonders if he’s insane for hoping in the back of his mind that you don’t really mean any of it. after all, with karma having yet to fully deal him the hand he deserves, it would only make sense, because he doesn’t know what could possibly hurt more than having your affections yanked from beneath him.

no, the only thing that could wound him deeper is if love—real love—was added to the mix, not just the creeping suspicions of it that lurk in the shadows of his thoughts. that would kill him for sure.

“your lips look kinda red . . . really kissable, too.” your words snap him from his self-pitying trance, and his eyes flick back to yours. you giggle. “i wanna see for myself.”

kaeya stiffens, back leaning up away from the trunk, when you abruptly toss one leg over his thighs to straddle his lap and plop yourself down. in any other circumstance, perching yourself on his lap would be welcomed; but, right now, he’s concerned this may lead to something you’ll regret. “hey, whoa, wait,” his hands rush to your hips in an attempt to keep you still, “you aren’t exactly sober, so we shouldn’t—”

you ignore his warning and seal your lips over his, regardless, effectively silencing him aside from the quiet hum of surprise that rumbles in the back of his throat. it’s innocent, nothing more than a press of your pillowy lips against his own; but, the subtle notes of sweet wine that leak onto his taste buds serve as a glaring reminder of your clouded judgment. he contemplates gently breaking the kiss; but, you beat him to it. 

your hands raise to cradle the sides of his face, and you slowly retract your head to grin at him. “i was right.” you tap your thumbs against his cheeks with a hazy giggle. this is okay, kaeya reasons.  it was merely a kiss, which isn’t new territory to your relationship by any means; nothing to fuss over. 

this time, he doesn’t resist, yielding to the gentle press of your hands against his shoulders and allowing himself to recline back against the trunk of the tree. his hands fall away from your hips to rest on the lower halves of your thighs, a few inches lower than the hem of your dress to ensure that he remains respectful and attentive of any boundaries he even suspects you’d set if you were sober. 

you prop yourself up on your knees and lift off his lap to achieve a different angle; and, his head lolls back against the wood in response, chin tilting up to meet your lips without hesitation. the kiss is slightly different, both of you still avoiding the use of tongue other than slight, fleeting grazes of the tips that could be mistaken as mere accidents—but, kaeya knows better. he can sense the change in the grip of your hands twisted into his collar, the way the movement of your lips against his seems to increase in intensity, and the little zings of static electricity that prickle with heat between your bodies and effortlessly draw you closer together with a magnetism distinctive to only the two of you.

kaeya’s head spins. the steam from the rising temperature of his body swaddles his brain in a thick haze of bliss and causes his chest to swell with warmth. the raw passion communicated through the gesture is blinding, sapping all of his reservations straight from his core and leaving in its wake an empty chasm of yearning that yawns in the pit of his abdomen and demands more, more, more. it couldn’t be a bad thing if he indulged a little, right?

in that moment, he remembers why he frequently prefers chaste kisses and whispered, romantic nothings, especially in public. it’s because this is new to him—this, this white-hot desperation to really feel someone. . . to touch and stroke and squeeze and mark them in ways no one else ever could ever even hope to—and, he hasn’t yet figured out how to bend it to his own will.

in fact, he only fully regains his sense of self when your lips part from his and begin planting gentle kisses down his jawline. his hazy eyes drift downward at the rustle of fabric, and he promptly snaps to attention when he witnesses your fingertips hooking under the hem of your dress and sliding it up your thighs. 

kaeya’s hands clamp firmly on your waist before the fabric can crest the curve of your ass, and after pausing for a slow, calculated inhale, he gently but insistently guides you to plop back down on his lap. 

“kaeya?” you question, only for your smile to vanish at the muted glow in his eye and the pensive downward tilt of the corners of his lips. he would be lying if he said he never entertained thoughts of what you’ll look and sound like when you both finally decide to take that step; but, he also knows for a fact that he doesn’t want it like this. to compound the matter, he’s sure when it comes time to face the aftermath, it’ll be revealed you didn’t want it this way, either.

his heart twists at the hurt glistening in your eyes as your hands reluctantly release the hem of your dress and curl into fists, almost as if you’re just now fully processing his rejection; and, he almost feels a pinch of guilt when your next words trickle quietly, hesitantly from your lips.

“what’s wrong?” you inquire, crestfallen. “you don’t want me?”

my god, she doesn’t know what she’s saying.

embarrassment starts to seep into your gaze; but, before you can tear your attention away from him to try to slip from his grasp and retreat back into your little shell, he’s quick to capture your chin between his forefinger and thumb. his grip is warm, firm yet not cruel. eyes downcast, your hand wraps loosely around his wrist with a feeble, “let go, ‘m sorry.”

“hey, look at me,” kaeya murmurs, and your eyes acquiescently slide up to his. your grasp on his wrist tightens in surprise at the clear conviction in his gaze, and when he speaks, his voice is even and low. “i want you more than you’re capable of understanding.” he knows you might not even remember this conversation come tomorrow, which he figures is all the more reason to lay out all his cards. “but, right now, you aren’t thinking straight, and if you’re wanting more than a kiss, i’m going to need you to be. if come tomorrow, you still want it, i’ll give it to you. but, it’s not going to be some quickie out in the forest where anyone could have a free show, okay? i’m not that generous.”

you nod. she has no clue what i just said, kaeya sighs, but it’s followed by a fond smile. “so,” his eyebrows lift attentively when you pipe up timidly, “you still like me?”

kaeya laughs openly, then, before angling your chin down to place a soft kiss on your forehead and another peck on the tip of your nose. when he spots a shy, little smile curving your lips, he relinquishes his hold on your chin and lets you lace your fingers through his own. “of course.”

and, he means it.

[randomfoggytiger]

"Think He'll Call You Tonight"

Part III of the Bill Scully POV mini-series (Part I and Part II~.) Continuing the dedication to @baronessblixen!

*****

Charlie was the one that convinced their father. 

“But Dad, Dana wanted a gun, too, and she’s really good at being careful, and she does everything else with us, and we have the money to get one, and it’s a really nice one, and Bill and I’ll keep an eye on her and teach her and make sure she doesn’t shoot anything that you told us not to--”

And whether or not it was his arguments or his enthusiasm that won the day, Dana was surprised with a bb gun a couple months shy of her birthday, both boys brimming with pride over their recently emptied pockets.

Charlie saw the snake first; but Bill boldly grabbed it, tossed it into a shorter patch of grass, and took the first shot. The air rang with pings and tiny thuds as the snake absorbed pellet after pellet, writhing in pain and shock; until, finally, it stopped wiggling and lay limp, slowly waiting for death to claim it. It was Dana who walked towards it-- Bill assumed to shoot it further-- and startled her brothers by cradling and weeping over its dead body in her tiny hands. 

The attack of conscience was swift. Dana, who was more prone to outraged anger than tears, broke down; and Charlie, who was more likely to cry than holler, yelled at Bill and ran off into the woods. 

Their mother was no less furious than their father even though Dana fessed up honorably and didn’t let her brothers take all the blame. Both of them apologized, took their punishment, and were forbidden to shoot until they were more responsible. 

Charlie didn’t reappear for hours. After dark everyone was worried; and the house and woods were canvassed until late in the night. It was Melissa’s idea to double back and check his room, and Dana's to check under his bed. She caught sight of his leg, dove under the spread, and grabbed him to her, apologizing over and over. 

Bill noticed his brother never quite shook the quake in his hands before a shot.

*****

Bill was out of the house before his brother reached the rebellious teen years. He was annoyed, nonetheless, when home would ring him or he’d ring home and Melissa would insist on telling Charlie’s latest scrape amidst laughter that cracked a sentence in three different places. Dana would take over and summarize her sister’s spotty narrative; and Maggie would hear the commotion from the hallway and insist on excusing some of his behavior. 

Excusing. Bill heard that a lot. 

Melissa never let anyone off the hook, including him. “Charlie and Dana have a boatload of stories on you, Billy, so I wouldn’t test either of their patience. He’ll be home any minute if you want to hear a few.” 

“I’m good, thanks.” And the conversation turned to a new thought experiment in Melissa’s collegiate classes or Dana’s impending graduation and solidifying plans for medical school. 

***** 

Tara and he had just gone steady when Bill got Melissa’s letter. Grateful that she’d canceled their night out immediately, he’d hugged his sweet girl goodbye and booked it to the nearest payphone. 

“Mom, he just met her-- and now he’s going to throw away his future and marry the girl? What kind of sense does that make?” 

“Bill--”

“I know you’re scared Mom, and Dad’s furious. What with Melissa dropping out, and now Charles--”

“William Scully, will you calm down--”

“Is that Bill?” That was Charles. “I want to talk to him, Mom.”

“Charlie, don’t make this a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

“He’s already poking his nose in, isn’t he? Huh? Making rude assumptions about Hessa and me behind our backs-- well, let him say it to my face!” 

Bill hung up, unwilling to let the situation spiral out of control. 

His father called a couple days later-- fresh off the boat and abreast of the particulars. “I’m disappointed, Bill-- you escalated this situation unnecessarily; and you worsened your mother's troubles while I wasn't home to steer the ship. Now, I want you to fly over when you can spare the time so we can put this behind us.” 

The meeting took place in his parent's new home in Maryland, paint and pine sol and candles warring against each other for supremacy. 

Charlie refused to try even one year of college, determined to bind himself to Hessa and break into the stock market with her godfather’s tutelage. “I figure facts and figures are my specialty, and where better to put them to use?” 

Dana had immediately lapped him by throwing a few of her own facts and figures about the business that he hadn’t contemplated; and Charlie, offended, had tried to deflect the uncomfortable moment by focusing how much she knew about family planning and retirement. Melissa then piped up and shoved the focus firmly back to him.

Bill flew back to Maryland six months later, best man at his brother’s elaborate wedding, staring at the pew where his father, stone faced, mother, apprehensive, and sisters, irritated, sat. Melissa and Dana unthawed for the bride, giving her a congratulatory hug-- which she lightly returned-- and Maggie welcomed her as the newest Scully; but Captain Scully only nodded, and Bill only smiled.

***** 

Bill and Tara were married, Melissa was somewhere around the world, Dana had dropped from medical school to the FBI, and Charlie and his two kids were living off of his wife’s investment properties when the Scully patriarch suddenly and unexpectedly died. 

Charlie hadn’t said as much, but Bill knew there was still residual resentment from his father’s decision to withhold most of his son's college fund. Given the state of their relationship, it shocked him when his brother took the cremation in stride, seemingly the only person other than Melissa to understand the captain's decision.

“It makes strange sense, though I’ll bet Missy put it in his head.” 

Tara, who had been quiet since the burial plans were announced, said, “I think it was me-- we were talking about Melissa’s book on Celtic traditions and practices a year or so ago; and I mentioned that I could have seen him being cremated if he were born a couple hundred years ago. I guess….” 

They were silent, warring between irrational anger at Tara and reason. Bill hugged her to him; and watched Charlie’s stare drift from his sister-in-law to his father’s urn, thoughtfully distant.  

*****

It was Charlie who called two years later. 

“Bill, she’s… she’s dead. Died, uh, thirteen hours ago. And… and, uh, Mom says she understands you won’t make it for the funeral… and.... She didn’t call me, Bill, either, because she thought Melissa’d pull through. And Dana’s back-- Dana was off the grid for a bit. We think the guy that got Melissa was after… anyway, one of us’ll call back with details when we can. …I’m sorry, Bill.” 

*****

A switch had happened after Melissa’s death: while Bill was at sea, Dana and Charlie spent more time at home. Charlie-- Tara reported-- became a regular, doubly so a regular philanthropist. He helped Maggie patch up various expenses, recommended his wife’s hairdresser to Dana and covered the difference a few times, and funded Tara’s recuperative trips to and from Maryland and California between grueling pregnancy tests and trials. 

“Are you doing okay, Mom?” Bill asked, spending yet another Saint Paddy’s Day on yet another floating hunk of metal. 

“Hmm. Melissa was going to throw a party this St. Patrick's-- she started doing that after Dana recovered from her coma last year, you know. I miss her, and your father." She sighed, a long, sad sound. "Are you okay being alone for the holiday?”  

“Yeah. Some friends are throwing a celebration later. One of them even looks likes Charles, strangely. I’ll see you as soon as I can.” 

“I know, Bill. I’ll give the others your love.”

“Okay, Mom. Bye.” 

*****

Dana’s cancer blindsided all of them. 

Maggie let out the secret in tears a few weeks after Dana began and ended her treatment, angry and lost and afraid. “She won’t try chemotherapy anymore because she wants to work-- Dana pretends it doesn’t exist and refuses to talk about it. I don’t understand her, Bill. And I don’t know how to tell Charlie because he feels they’ve gotten so close over the last few months. This will hurt him; and I don’t want to hurt my baby.” 

Bill, so furious he was calm, told her to fly out to Tara. “I know she’ll enjoy having you around, Mom. And maybe Dana will decide to share it with us on her own.”

Dana did not tell anyone else, choosing instead to pretend like nothing was wrong: congratulating Bill and Tara on their impending parenthood, sloughing off Maggie's subtle references, and running around at work while her health weakened and worsened.

On Bill’s way to the Scully family get-together, his mom called again: Charlie had finally been told; and-- at the mention of late-stage cancer-- hadn’t taken it well, venting choice words about being the last to be considered and left. 

Despite the desperation of the next few days, he'd stayed withdrawn and unreachable.

*****

“Charlie? It’s Bill-- Dana’s in remission. She wanted me to give you a call in case you wanted to drop by. We’re calling it a miracle, Charlie. A new beginning, Dana said. If you want.” 

For once, Bill was happy her paranoid partner was there to keep his sister company-- anything to distract her from picking up the phone, dialing, and getting bad news on top of good. 

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic!

[coffeebanana]

Apparently I'm raiding my google docs for snippets I wrote months ago and probably won't ever continue (I might as well share them though!). This is post-HM core four fluff. CW: mentions of depression

*** “Quit stealing all the pillows!” Alya yelled before playfully whacking Marinette with a giant teddy bear.

Marinette stuck out her tongue. “I’m not stealing them, I’m arranging them nicely for all of us.” 

“Uh-huh. And that’s why they’re all on your side of the blanket?”

“I mean, they are right now. It’s not like I’ve claimed the whole side to myself.”

“So you won’t mind if I go lay down on that pile?” She pointed to the highest stack of pillows.

“Of course not. I mean—wait, not yet! I still need to—Alya!”

Adrien smiled, resting his head against the back of the couch as he watched them bickering. Marinette caught his eye a few seconds later, grinning widely and making him feel warm all over. Nino sat beside him, unaware of the world as he stubbornly searched through his photos for a meme he apparently had to show Adrien (and no, apparently it couldn’t wait).

It baffled Adrien that they were doing all this for him.

He still felt sort of numb most days, his father’s crimes and the uncertainty of his own existence looming over him. But today…today was okay. Today his friends were building a blanket fort just because they wanted to make him smile.

Granted, there had been very little progress in the actual building process, but the smell of cookies baking and the sound of laughter made up for that.

Marinette soon gave up on hoarding pillows and crawled over to sit beside him. Adrien easily tossed an arm around her and pulled her in closer, his heart skipping a beat as she sighed contentedly.

“You okay?” She asked a few seconds later. “You’ve been quiet.”

Adrien squeezed her shoulder. “I’m good. Just taking it all in.”

She hummed in response and cuddled in closer. “Let me know if you need anything?”

“I…” He’d meant to say he would, but there was maybe a fifty percent chance of that being true, and he didn’t feel like lying. “I’ll try.”

Panic coiled in his gut as Marinette pulled back a little, searching his expression. But she just smiled and kissed him lightly.

“I’m proud of you.” She whispered the words against his lips before pulling back with a smile.

Now, Adrien definitely felt like a fraud. Because he was certain he hadn’t done anything worthy of her pride lately. Some days it took him hours to even get out of bed. He barely went outside. He couldn’t even remember if he’d showered that morning.

“Why?” he asked.

She tucked a strand of hair behind his ears—it was getting long, but he kind of liked it that way—and regarded him steadily. “Why not?”

For some reason that sank in, even though barely anything did these days. He couldn’t understand why anyone would be proud of him, yet it hadn’t occurred to her not to be?

He didn’t realize his eyes felt wet until Marinette reached up to wipe a tear, her forehead pinched in concern. She opened her mouth—no doubt to ask him for the millionth time if he was okay—when Nino cut her off.

“Yes!” He pumped his fist in triumph, leaning forward and waving his phone. “Found it! You gotta—dude, what’s wrong?”

Adrien shook his head, because nothing was wrong. Everything was perfect, really.

He hadn’t felt so safe and loved and free in longer than he could remember.

Ironically, his words remained trapped in his throat. Instead of trying to explain, he just pulled Marinette back to his chest and buried his face in her hair when she squeezed back tightly. 

It didn’t take long for Nino and Alya to pile into the hug too, and for once, Adrien wasn’t ashamed to be a sobbing mess.

For once, he was certain he was happy.

[hydroyaksha]

I love you, I love you, I love you. [doh Kyungsoo]

The soft tunes of a broken melody box could be heard through out the room where the man sat. Photos decorated the otherwise white walls, and while this would be a very boring room, the contents in the photos however are not.

The photos ranged from innocent pictures, where a woman would be seen with her back facing the camera as she gazes at the falling autumn leaves, to photos which were more private and sensual.

Some people might call him a stalker, an obsessed freak, or even a psychopath but Kyungsoo knew better. If he were any of those things, then why would you smile at him every day when you saw him? Why would you talk to him when no one else would? Why did you never believe the rumors surrounding him?

Obviously because you’re you.

Beautiful,

kind,

caring,

you

Kyungsoo protected you from a distance at all times, a drunk old man harassed you at night? Don’t worry about him anymore. Don’t even bat an eye when you see him show up on the news the next day, he doesn’t matter anymore.

Kyungsoo prides himself in knowing you the best, he always knows what artists you listen you, what shows you’re watching, what type of fashion you like, and even what your ideal type is.

So when you walk into school at 8:30 sharp, wearing that cute black mini dress that Kyungsoo remembers you wearing to a college event, he’s sure that today will be just like any other day.

That is, until it’s not.

Walking over to your group of friends with a slight bounce to your steps, you don’t even try to hide the huge smile on your face.

“You guys won’t believe what happened yesterday!” You exclaim with glee, stars practically shining in your eyes.

This catches Kyungsoo’s attention, something happened yesterday? He’s sure nothing out of the ordinary happened to you yesterday, after all, he was watching you for practically the entire day.

He remembers sending you an anonymous letter describing his feelings for you, but this wasn’t the first time he’d done it. He’d actually done it 7 times before.

One on Monday the 6th of August, the second and third one on Friday the 15th and Wednesday the 20th of September, the fourth and fifth one on the 9th and 18th of October, alongside a special sixth note on the 31st. And the seventh one was sent on the 2nd of November.

Maybe you finally reciprocated his feelings following the 8th note! Joy fills his body as he imagines scenarios where you write back to him in your own cute handwriting, describing how you’ve fallen for him.

But this daydream almost immediately shatters once he hears your next few words.

“The byun baekhyun asked me out last night!” You squealed in delight, “oh my god! Really?” One of your closest friends, Danielle exclaims. “Took him long enough to grow some balls” Ryujin, another one of your friends huffs.

You push her shoulder in a teasing manner and grin, “I feel like I’m a high schooler all over again”

What?

You-

Who?

Byun Baekhyun?

Kyungsoo feels as if the clogs in his head have stopped moving, Byun Baekhyun asked you to be his girlfriend?

No, that not right. You love him, he loves you. Kyungsoo loves you. This is all a mistake, Kyungsoo is sure of it. There’s no way you’d love another who isn’t him.

That Byun must have done something to you, maybe he blackmailed you, or maybe he threatened you!

Poor, poor Y/n, you must be waiting for my help, huh?

A sinister smile crept up on Kyunsoo’s face as he formed multiple plans to ensure that he could get rid of Baekhyun without you knowing.

“Hey Kyungsoo!” You called out as you walked over to the pre-occupied boy, successfully snapping him out of his thoughts. “Oh, hey Y/n” a bright smile formed on his face even though he tried to hide it.

Kyungsoo inhaled a deep breath as he prepared to say his next words, “would you- maybe like to hang out at my place on Sunday? I’ve been learning how to cook these past few months, and I’d like for you to try some of it” He asked with a hopeful shine to his eyes.

You gave it some thought before deciding that it seemed innocent enough since Kyungsoo didn’t seem like the type of guy to lure in a girl for his own pleasure, so you agreed.

The rest of the week went like a fairytale for you, meeting with Baekhyun and spending time bonding with eachother.

You both found out that you shared the same interest in dancing, so you quickly started to learn some duo dances to further get to know eachother.

This sight was almost like a nightmare for Kyungsoo, just why did you have to go and like Baekhyun like that? Why couldn’t you see that a perfect man was in front of you, just waiting for your recognition?

Kyungsoo felt his anger bubble inside of him as he glared at the sight of baekhyun tickling you on the dance room floor after a strenuous practice. “You seem lost my little dove, I promise I’ll point you back in the right direction…” he mutters as he walks away from the ledge of a building he used to spy on the two of you.

When Sunday night came, everything was in place and Kyungsoo couldn’t be happier. All the food is cooked to perfection, his apartment is clean, his special gift is all wrapped up nicely and he’s dressed up to impress.

When you ring his doorbell, he’s quick to answer, “Hey! You’re just on time” he smiles charmingly

You return the smile, “glad you invited me” you pause as you take off your shoes, “what’s on the menu? I’m starving” you chirp.

“Only the best for a talented girl like you” he complements as he leads you to the dining room. There on the table is quite an array of different foods, seeming to range from appetizers to the main course.

You settled down across from Kyungsoo and maintain a conversation on school and internship opportunities. Kyungsoo latched onto every single word that slipped out of your mouth and practically ingrained it in his brain, you were so gracious as to lend your time to him, so he should repay the favor right?

After you finished with the meal, Kyungsoo is quick to pick up your plates, “What did you think?” He asks while occupying himself with placing the dishes in the sink.

“Oh, it was delicious, Kyungsoo! I never knew you were such a good chef! Maybe you should’ve taken up culinary as a major” you complimented with a wink.

This peaceful atmosphere was quickly interrupted as one of the doors in Kyungsoo’s apartment slam open, revealing a disheveled and bloody Baekhyun.

He’s holding what seems to be a broken pipe in his right hand which hosts many burn marks from ropes and cuts all across his upper arms. Baekhyun breathes heavily as he glares daggers into Kyungsoo’s skull.

All the while, Kyungsoo keeps a blank face. You rush out of your chair and immediately try to make your way to your bloody boyfriend “Baekhyun?! Oh my god-” you get cut off as you feel a grip on your wrist.

Kyungsoo holds an expression you’ve never seen on his face, pure unfiltered obsession. “My little dove, why do you seek that boy when I’m right here? I’ll protect you from this crazy thing… look at how bloody and scary he looks. A pure creature like you shouldn’t get too close, he may taint your purity”

Color starts to drain from your face as you piece together just what might be going on here, “Let go of my girlfriend you sick bastard!” Baekhyun shouts from behind you as he lunges forward thrusting the broken pipe in Kyungsoo’s direction.

He lets go of your wrist and Baekhyun is quick to push you behind him. Kyungsoo let’s out an annoyed groan and scoffs, “why did you have to go and ruin the surprise? I had you all prettied up but now look at you.” He sneers as he takes a short glance over Baekhyun’s body.

“You’ve gotten yourself all dirty”

Baekhyun’s breathing gets heavier with anger as he walks backwards to get closer to you while holding his weapon up. “This crazy fucker kidnapped me and tied me up, Y/n. He said he loved you and would do anything for you. He’s not sane, babe-”

“Don’t you dare call her babe! She’s not some whore you can keep on your arm as decoration! She’s a goddess and needs to be protected and cared for!” Kyungsoo seethes.

He lunges forward at Baekhyun as the two engage in a fight, you stand there horrified at the scene plays out. At some point, your boyfriend loses his weapon and is wrestled to the ground by Kyungsoo.

Not being able to handle any more abuse happening to your boyfriend, you grab the pipe and stab Kyungsoo in the pelvis while he was distracted with Baekhyun.

He chokes out a cough and spits blood into his hand, you’re quick to pull up your boyfriend as he places a hand protectively around your waist.

“We need to get out of here and call the police, I don’t know what he’ll do if we stay any longer” Baekhyun groans.

You nod so fast that it hurts your neck, you spare one last glance at Kyungsoo, who’s holding his stomach in pain. He meets your gaze and gives you a bone chilling smile, “you may run now… but you’ll never stay away from me, my dove” he coughs.

Tears start falling down your face as you make it out of his apartment wondering when everything went so sideways. The initial shock of the event is over and now you’re a jittering mess in your car as you help Baekhyun into the passenger’s seat.

You move to put your key in and your shaky hand doesn’t move. “I’m here babe, and m’ fine. You’ll be fine, we’ll get home and we’ll call the police and we’ll sleep after that, yeah?” Baekhyun comforts while gripping your hand like you’ll disappear.

You both manage to make it out of the neighborhood and call the police when you make it back to your shared apartment. You patch up your boyfriend’s wounds and after that he spends the night cradling you in his arms while you both try to get some sleep after the event you both went through.

It was only the next day, when the police come to your door, do you both realize that you’re far from being safe as they never found his body in his apartment, only the blood stains from where he was supposed to be laying.

I love you, I love you, I love you, my dearest dove,

And you won’t get away from me. You’re too precious to live in our society. But don’t worry, I’ll save you from this wretched planet, and we can be happy together finally.

Love,

Kyungsoo <3

[iamvegorott]

Ink Month 2023 Day 27

Propose

“Give me a lift, and I’ll grab those.” Mad pointed up the large apple tree. “Those are the best since no one else ever goes for them since it’s too high up.” 

“Hell yeah!” Jackie eagerly crouched down, wrapped his arms around Mad’s legs, and stood back up, giving Mad several more feet of height.

“There’s so many up here!” Mad said with an excited laugh, picking apples and putting them in his basket. 

“Get all of them!” Jackie laughed as well.

“I am!”

“Those two are such dorks.” Phantom chuckled from the bench where he and Mare sat and watched their boyfriends enjoy themselves. 

“They are.” Mare agreed with a fond smile, eye soft with affection and thinking he could see Mad’s happy face for the rest of his life. “I think I might propose to Mad.” He said without realizing the words were out loud. 

“What!?” Phantom’s shocked yelp snapped Mare back to reality.

“Are you guys okay?” Jackie called.

“We’re fine,” Phantom called back with a smile. He waited until he got a smile from Jackie, and his attention went back to Mad before he hissed at Mare, “You’re going to what?” 

“It was just a thought.” Mare kept his voice down as well.

“You have never shown interest in marriage, like, we used to talk shit about weddings all the time. You called them an ‘expensive show for others’.” Phantom used his fingers to add the quotes. 

“I’ve also never been in love before. Plus, my wedding would be for me and Mad. You guys are just welcomed to the show.” Mare said with a casual shrug.

“Now you sound like you’ve been planning this.” Phantom scoffed. 

“I haven’t…but I have been thinking about always having Mad by my side.” Mare looked over at the other two. Mad was now back on the ground, holding the basket of apples to his chest and looking proud of himself. “He’s stubborn and snarky and always ready to run off to chase any theory he has, but he’s also so smart and soft and joyful…I have days when I hug him, and I don’t want to let go. I don’t want him to leave. I want to feel the way he hugs me back until the day I die.” 

“You’re going to make me throw up.” Phantom had a teasing grin. 

“Tell me you don’t feel the same about Jackie.” Mare teased back with a little nudge of his elbow. 

“Don’t call me out like that.” Phantom softly chuckled. “But…yeah. I do. He’s a dork, but he’s my dork. I’d kill so many people if they tried taking him away from me.” 

“So if he got down on one knee and asked you to marry him?”

“I’d say yes in a heartbeat.” 

“And you were making fun of me.” Mare chuckled at both that and of the scene of Mad getting up on Jackie’s shoulders to reach higher up on a different apple tree. 

“That’s my job as your brother.” Phantom placed a hand on Mare’s shoulder and patted it. “And as your best man.” 

“So you approve?”

“He makes you happy. That’s all I care about, and if calling him your husband instead of boyfriend makes you happier, I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.” 

“Maybe I’ll drop hints to Jackie for you.” Mare laughed when that got a little shove.

“This is about you, shithead.” Phantom huffed. “Now I’m leaving you to tell Anti about this on your own.” 

“Oh fuck. I would need to talk to Anti.” Mare at his face. 

“Good luck~” Phantom sang.

“Mare! Mare, look at all of these apples!” Mad said as he and Jackie finally joined the brothers. “We can make pies and tarts and still have leftovers to cut up and dip in peanut butter or Nutella.” 

“I’d like to dip you in Nutella.” Mare chuckled, placing a hand on Mad’s cheek and kissing him.

“Mare!” Mad squeaked, slapping lightly at his chest, but happily leaned into another kiss.

“Did you two have fun?” Phantom asked Jackie.

“I think we got more apples than everyone else here,” Jackie said with a prideful puff to his chest.

“It’s not a competition.” Phantom giggled. “But I am glad that you won.” He couldn’t resist tugging down on Jackie’s shirt to kiss him. “We really are weak for you two.” 

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll make sense later.” Phantom tugged Jackie into another kiss. 

[magniloquent-raven]

Could a I get trans!Tommy x Billy fic where Billy finds out Tommy is trans and he's freaking out but Billy just reassures him and comforts him until one thing leads to another and they end up having sex?

this ended up 1) a college au for some reason, 2) t4t because i started writing billy as trans without even thinkin about it at first lmao and 3) MUCH longer than i thought it would be, holy shit

i hope all that's okay & i really hope u enjoy ur fic 💕💕💕

~tag list ppl just in case yall are interested even tho its a ship ive never written before? @growup-thatbeautiful @spreckle @prettyboy-like-you ~

[read on ao3]

**

“Carol broke up with me again,” Tommy says, words slurred by the alcohol in his system and muffled by his forearm squished against his cheek. He blinks up at Billy from where he’s half-laying on the peeling cover of his algebra text book. They didn’t bother clearing the homework from his desk before dumping three six-packs and a plastic bag stuffed with snack food on top of the mess. 

He’s usually a fun drunk, Billy wouldn’t have brought beer if he’d known it was gonna go like this. 

But of course it’s because of Carol. It’s always because of Carol. Except that one time it was because of a phonecall with his mother that he refused to talk about, even after the tequila loosened his lips enough to have him waxing poetic about his ex-bff with a wistful look in his eye. 

“Again?” Billy leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. He’s got one booted foot propped on the edge of Tommy’s roommate’s bed. “This is the third time in four months, man. Is your dick too small to keep her satisfied, or what.”

He’s supposed to push back. That’s how this works. He’s supposed to bristle and sit up and defend himself, because he has some fucking pride. And before he knows it he’ll be too busy exchanging barbs with Billy to think about how miserable he is about the breakup. 

He’s not supposed to turn his head, hiding his face in his folded arms, and mumble, “Something like that…” all morose and self-pitying. 

Because no one comes to Billy for this shit. To be vulnerable. To talk about feelings and have an honest heart-to-heart and a shoulder to cry on and all that crap people want when they’re going through a real break-up. He can put on a good face when girls come sniffing around for a rebound lay. The girls who got screwed over by their white-bread boyfriends and want to pretend they’re over it by getting fingerbanged in a public bathroom by some bad boy who won’t call them after. But fake sympathy and an uncanny ability to deflect questions about why he doesn’t want his touch reciprocated did not prepare him for…whatever is happening right now.

“Y’know there’s other ways to fuck a girl, right,” Billy says from behind his beer. There’s not much left and it’s still not making this conversation any easier.

Tommy groans, burrowing deeper into his sleeves. “I know.”

“Hm.”

“S’complicated.”

“Not if you know what you’re looking—wait. The break-up. Right. Look, you want my advice? Move on. Live a little. You came halfway across the country to, what, stay leashed to the same pussy you’ve been getting since you were twelve? Who the fuck does that.”

“Dunno.”

Billy blows out a slow breath, then downs the rest of his beer. He drops the empty can on Tommy’s desk and watches it rock, tip, and fall over. It rolls, wobbling through drying condensation rings and chip crumbs ‘til it hits Tommy’s elbow, coming to a stop next to his left ear. He doesn’t move.

The assholes next door are having an obnoxiously loud argument, only slightly muffled through the thin walls. The radio on Tommy’s bedside table warbles through a jingle that keeps cutting in and out. Neither of them speak for a long, awkward moment.   

“...She really did a number on you, huh.”

Tommy sighs. “Nah.” He pauses, then peeks out from the crook of his arm. “Kinda.” He stares at the can nestled up against his arm, looking uncharacteristically contemplative. “Dunno, man, I just want people to stop leaving me.”

Billy’s lungs seize painfully, his whole chest tightening around the jagged edges of a sympathetic twinge, like gripping a shard of glass in his fist, cutting himself open on it. There’s anger dripping from that open wound, familiar and yet foreign in its compassion for Tommy of all people. 

They’ve never been especially close. Billy’s not especially close with anybody, and he always figured hanging around Tommy would make it easy to keep it that way. The guy just gives off a vibe. The small town jock type, only ever wants to talk about tits and booze and whatever stupid, embarrassing gossip he can turn into a joke.

For six months Billy’s been content to do that, to hang out with Tommy drinking beer and pretending to care about the low-cut tanktops their English lit professor favours. It feels good, in a way. Safe. But it was never supposed to be about Tommy himself. He wasn’t supposed to care about him. Caring about people is dangerous. Makes it harder to cut ties if he needs to. Or worse, it means the inevitable rejection if he ever gets outed will actually hurt.

Tommy’s still looking at him, sullen and hazy-eyed. His freckles are just barely visible in the shitty lamplight, his hair is sticking up at odd angles, flattened on one side from laying on his desk. He’s kind of pretty when he’s not being a shithead.

Wait. No. No, no. Absolutely the fuck not. Not going there. 

Billy tries very hard to look like he has no opinions about Tommy’s face. Or his stupid puppy-dog eyes.

He bites his tongue when panic tries to sharpen it. The anxiety bubbling in his gut turns to bile burning his throat, and it’s tempting to lash out, to spit venom like the sour taste in his mouth is anyone’s fault but his, like pushing Tommy away would fix anything. 

He hasn’t seen Max since he moved into his tiny dorm room on campus. Hasn’t spoken to her since his acceptance letter came in months before that. He thought it would make things easier, better for both of them, but now he just gets angry at himself when seeing flashes of red hair makes his heart clench. 

It’s only ever made his life worse, he doesn’t know why he keeps trying it. 

The first time he let a boy fuck him he felt so shitty about it afterwards that he told everyone who would listen that the guy kissed like a dead fish and couldn’t even get his dick hard. It made Billy feel something, when people laughed and said that probably meant he was a fag. Something sickly and awful, but somehow vindicating. 

He caught three meatheads beating the shit out of the boy who took his virginity three weeks after he lied about it never happening. The look on his bloodied face still haunts Billy’s nightmares. 

Billy’s never made anyone’s life better by being in it. He doesn’t know what to say to someone who doesn’t want to be left.

“Yeah, I hear you, amigo,” he says grimly, and regrets it immediately. It’s too personal. Too self-pitying. It’s echoes of when is mom coming home, and a slap ringing in his ears, a phantom ache in his jaw, the taste of salt and iron.   

He keeps his gaze locked on a tiny dent near the top of the unopened beer he reaches for, hoping to occupy his hands, only to be stopped in his tracks when clumsy fingers pat his knuckles. He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a comforting gesture or if Tommy’s just too drunk to keep his hand steady and was trying to grab ahold of him. 

The look on his face is oddly intense, sombre, like stroking the back of Billy’s hand is the most important thing he’s ever done and it’s taking all his concentration to do it. There’s a little pinch between his eyebrows, and a slant to his mouth.

Billy should snatch his hand away, but he lets it happen. Despite his embarrassment it’s kind of nice. 

“I like having you around.”

Well. That might be a bridge too far. Maybe. The tips of his ears feel hot. “Okay, I think you’ve probably had enough to drink tonight, Hagan.”

Tommy scoffs, his nose wrinkling a little.

“Seriously, if you propose to my hand I’m never buying you beer again.” 

“Liar.” 

“Don’t test me.” Billy can’t quite keep the laugh out of his voice.

“Pff.” He pauses, his fingertips coming to rest along the length of Billy’s thumb, pinky finger toying with the ragged edge of his nail. “You like having me around, right?” There’s a desperate edge to the question, a tremble that makes Billy nervous. 

“I—” He chews the inside of his cheek, studying the sad twist pulling at the corner of Tommy’s mouth. “Yeah.” Maybe he’s drunk enough he won’t remember this tomorrow. Maybe that’s why Billy nudges his hand, linking two of their fingers together, a tiny smile tugging at his lips when Tommy gapes at him. “Yeah I do.”

**

Billy’s head pounds when he stirs, rustling unfamiliar sheets, and the light filtering in through crooked blinds makes his eyes ache. At least the cottonmouth isn’t too bad, and his stomach seems to be behaving itself. He’s definitely had worse, much worse. 

There’s a groan across the room. He buries his face into the borrowed pillow tucked under his arm to hide a snicker. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy grumbles. There’s a whoosh of displaced air and a muffled thump. A pillow hitting the carpet. “Shit.”

“Nice aim.”

“Urgh.”

He doesn’t have class today, there’s no rush to be anywhere, but he’s never been good at laying around doing nothing. His first few weeks of adjusting to life free from Neil he tried sleeping in, rebelling against rules he was no longer bound by, but he mostly ended up staring at water-stained ceilings bored out of his mind. He doesn’t bother anymore. The entire life he’s building for himself is a fuck you to Neil, he doesn’t need every little thing to be about him.

He stretches, his shoulder popping loudly in the early-morning quiet, and glances over at the lump of blankets in Tommy’s bed. 

“How’s your head?” Billy asks, not bothering to keep the smirk out of his voice.

Tommy grunts. The outline of his shoulder shifts slightly. 

“That bad, huh.”

Another noncommittal noise. 

Billy rolls his eyes, pushing himself upright and out of bed. His jeans are around here somewhere in the mess, but he doesn’t remember taking them off, and definitely doesn’t remember tossing them…over the half-eaten remains of last night’s pizza. Gross. 

There’s a grease stain on the back of one thigh, but they pass the sniff test.

He’s wiggling them over his hips when Tommy finally sits up. “M’ gonna be sick,” he croaks, and falls out of bed in a tangle of sheets and oversized t-shirt bunched around his midriff. Billy gets a glimpse of soft freckled stomach and a yellowing tanktop before Tommy gives his shirt a hurried tug, smoothing it down with jittery hands. 

He doesn’t look at Billy as he staggers towards the door, steps over discarded gym shorts, catches his toe on the busted folding chair his roommate keeps promising to fix, and finally slips into the hallway, hissing curses under his breath. 

And Billy doesn’t think anything of it. Tommy’s never a ray of sunshine in the morning, and he’s even worse when nursing a hangover. He was focused on getting to the bathroom down the hall before he tossed his cookies all over the floor, he didn’t exactly have time to stop and make small talk. It’s not weird.

But it gets weird. 

Billy waits way too long for him to come back. He tosses back the last of his flat, warm beer. Combs out his curls with his fingers, carefully rearranging them in the mirror propped next to Tommy’s sparse bookshelf. Picks through the crumpled worksheets strewn across the desk. And finally decides to check if Tommy choked on his own vomit. 

Only he’s nowhere to be found.

And, fine, Billy’s not needy or whatever, he can get breakfast on his own. It’s not like they had plans Tommy’s flaking out on, Billy just kinda thought…

It doesn’t matter what he thought. It’s fine.

He goes back to his own dorm. Changes his jeans. Isn’t bothered.

…He’s a little bothered when he sees Tommy later that day and Tommy bugs the fuck out, all but fleeing in the opposite direction. 

Because. Yeah, that’s weird. 

Doubt starts to dig its spindly fingers in, thin and brittle but pointed. 

They both said some shit last night. Which was Tommy’s fucking fault, getting drunk like that when he was in a mood. And he’s the one who kept trying to make it all touchy-feely. 

Christ, he should’ve fucking known Tommy was going to remember, it was stupid to engage with him in the first place. Shit’s awkward now because he’s a fucking sucker and now Tommy knows it. 

Or maybe it’s more than awkward, and Tommy’s straight-up pissed at him. Billy’s stomach curdles at the thought. 

He can’t handle this. Tying himself up in knots because he got the brush-off. Worrying and wondering and chewing his thumbnail ‘til he tastes blood. It’s pathetic. 

Tommy doesn’t have class today either, so Billy checks his dorm first. 

And then he checks the cafeteria. The lot behind the cafeteria where Tommy smokes sometimes. Carol’s dorm—thankfully empty, he doesn’t feel like answering a million questions and then having his answers dissected by her and her friends after he leaves. 

He’s running out of places to look when he spots Tommy next to a payphone in front of the main office. The walkway is empty, it’s just Tommy hunched around the phone, clutching it in both hands and deeply engrossed in his conversation. Enough that he doesn’t seem to notice Billy approaching.

His voice is low, but Billy catches snippets. Carol’s name. “Mamá,” sighed repeatedly, exasperated. He gets more agitated every time he stutters to a halt, apparently cut off. 

“I just thought you should know, okay!” Tommy runs a hand through his hair and rolls his eyes skyward. “No—no, mamá, iba a traerla—yes, I was…”

Billy leans against cold brick, his denim jacket scraping the wall as he crosses his arms, waiting. 

“Ese no es mi problema,” he snaps, glaring at nothing and getting steadily louder. “No. I’m not her precious little neita anymore, she can’t stay in denial forever!”

Oh?

Billy’s ears are ringing. Tommy’s voice is an indistinct buzz.

It could be nothing. A slip of the tongue. Billy’s Spanish getting rusty. It could be Billy reading into things—hoping, like that’s ever gotten him anything but heartbroken—just, seeing things that aren’t there because he wants to be a little less alone. 

But still. He’s never seen Tommy wearing less than two shirts, and he's always been just as averse to the dorm's shared bathroom as Billy is. Sometimes tiny, incidental things will throw him off, but Billy never thought much of it until now. Until he was smacked in the face with the possibility that Tommy could be like him. 

It feels a little unreal, a little like vapor he’s trying to catch with his bare hands, not quite solid but leaving enough droplets of water on his hands that he’s knows there’s something.

Tommy seems to realize he’s shouting, and glances around, worrying his bottom lip. It slips from between his teeth when he locks eyes with Billy and his jaw goes slack. 

Because he’s been trying to avoid Billy all day or because he thinks he might’ve just outed himself?

Either way his posture immediately changes, going rigid, spine straightening, holding himself with enough bravado that it almost hides the way his gaze darts around, nervously scanning the empty sidewalk. Looking for an exit, probably. 

He mumbles a rushed goodbye into the receiver, not waiting for a response before he slams the phone back onto its hook and folds his arms, fists balled in the crooks of his elbows.

“I swear to god, I’ll piss on your pillow if you take off on me again.” Billy pushes away from the building, pointing a threatening finger. 

“I wasn’t—fuckin’—what the hell. Gross.”

“So don’t leave.” The words twinge as they leave his mouth, falling heavier between them than Billy really meant them to. Tommy flinches. Just a little. The tiniest twitch at the corner of his eye. A minute change to the slope of his shoulders. Billy exhales slow through his nose. “What’s the deal, Hagan.”

“Shit,” Tommy mutters, sweeping a hand through his hair and shifting away from Billy with a grimace. “Shit. Look, man, I don’t know what you think you heard, but it’s—I’m not. Y’know what, just forget about it, okay.”

Billy raises an eyebrow. He can feel his heartbeat racing, hammering at the inside of his ribcage. “Forget what exactly,” he says, keeping his voice even. 

He has to know. For sure. He can’t just out himself for a maybe. 

“Don’t play dumb, you’re shitty at it,” Tommy snaps, but there’s a thready quality to it. “I’m not gonna fucking say it. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?”

“I saw the look on your face, man, I’m not stupid. I know what it looks like when someone realizes they’ve been hanging out with a fuckin’ freak.” He jabs a finger at Billy, gesturing in a vague circle around his face. “That. Right before the regret sets in. And you bail. Or worse.” He clenches his teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching. It’s not quite enough to hide the current of anxiety thrumming through his jerky movements. 

There are things he should say right now. Things he should do. But all he’s getting it static. Fuzz. He’s wildly spinning a dial and getting nothing but snippets of words that he loses in the white noise. 

He’s fucking this up. 

He tongues his cheek. Deliberates. 

“We should take this somewhere else,” he says carefully, pointedly flicking his gaze towards the office building behind them. They might be alone out here, but there’s no guarantee they’ll stay that way. There are people in there. For all he knows there could be someone peeking through the blinds at them right now.

But Tommy just stares at him, incredulous. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Would you just—” Billy blows out an irritated breath. The back of his neck is prickling, like he’s being watched. He can’t fucking concentrate. “It’s not what you think.” The scoff he gets in response is not encouraging. “I’m not bailing on you, alright, would you just come with me and let me say my piece?”

If their positions were reversed he knows what he’d do. He wouldn’t risk being alone with someone who just found him out, it’s a stupid fucking thing to do. Anyone who asked him to take that risk would get laughed at and left in the dust. And yet here he is asking Tommy to trust him, like he has any right to do that. 

Promising to stick around doesn’t feel like enough but it’s all he can give right now. He wants it to work so badly it hurts, aches like he’s ripped out a part of himself as an offering. 

Tommy narrows his eyes, looks him up and down, and mutters. “Fine.”

All the air punches out of Billy’s lungs. Maybe he can salvage this.

They walk in stiff silence, a careful six inches apart. Billy’s boots scrape against the pavement. He picks at a scab along the edge of his fingernail, watching Tommy out of the corner of his eye, catching the erratic flash of his hands flitting from place to place, pushing through his hair, adjusting the hem of his shirt. 

His dorm is closer, he steers him in that direction, ignoring Tommy’s suspicious side-eye.

It’ll be fine, he can clear shit up when they get there. It’ll be fine.

Still, guilt squeezes at his insides. 

His dorm room door clicks shut behind them. It’s deafening. 

He has no plan. He probably should have come up with a plan. His palms are sweating and his heart feels like it’s trying to crawl out of his mouth and his throat is so dry he’s not sure he could say anything even if he knew what to say, but…fuck, staring at the ripped corner of his Metallica poster isn’t even remotely productive, he needs to think—

Tommy grips his arm, tight enough to hurt, and tugs him around. His lips are pursed, downturned, and his eyes are bright, intense, flicking across Billy’s face. Billy’s half sure he’s about to get punched—Tommy looks to be working himself up to something—but instead he blinks and Tommy’s gone, Tommy’s…on his knees, clumsy fingers plucking at Billy’s belt buckle. 

“Oh—” Billy sucks in a breath, grabbing Tommy’s wrists. 

Dark eyes glare up at him. “Oh come on, this is what you wanted right? You’re not leaving because you want something. And it’s not gay if I’ve got a pussy, right—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for a second?” Billy says all in an exasperated rush, staring at the ceiling, a little lightheaded. He’s not entirely shocked by the heat that seared through him when he realized what Tommy was trying to do, but he wasn’t prepared for how much he wants him to. And now really isn’t the time to be thinking about using Tommy’s mouth to get off. “Look, I…”

His throat closes up. He still can’t say it.

Slowly, he lowers himself to the floor, sitting on the heels of his boots, his knees brushing Tommy’s. It’s easier to look at him from this angle. Or maybe it’s just because the strange intensity in his gaze has been replaced by confusion. There’s a vulnerable helplessness there that Billy didn’t notice before. Guilt grips him tighter. 

“I told you, it’s not what you think,” he says quietly. 

Before he can lose his nerve—an ignoring all the doubts plaguing him, what if he thinks less of me, what if he’s angry I kept it a secret, what if—Billy hooks his fingers under the hem of his shirt and tugs, pulling it over his head. 

Tommy blinks at him. Opens his mouth. Shuts it again.

He doesn’t stare at Billy’s scars. Billy expected him to stare. Showing him the scars was the whole point. He looks at them, sure, but he doesn’t look for very long. His eyes wander, scanning the entire expanse of tanned skin on display. Lingering on the freckles on Billy’s shoulder. The trail of soft blond hair below his belly button. 

If he was less caught up in feeling feelings that made his insides squirm and his fingers itch he might’ve laughed at how dazed Tommy’s looks. But he’s sure his expression isn’t any better. A hot flush prickles up Billy’s chest as he sits there, just letting Tommy ogle. 

“Uh.” Tommy clears his throat. His cheeks are pink. He hasn’t looked up yet. “So…”

“Yeah.”

“You…”

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

A beat. “I mean you can still blow me if you want, I just figured you’d want to know what you were getting into first.”

That does it. Tommy finally makes eye-contact, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead, a startled, slightly hysterical cackle bubbling out of him. The flush on his cheeks is still there but he looks less like he’s been hit over the head. “Asshole,” he says, unable to entirely keep the smile off his face. 

Billy shrugs, a grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, but I have it on good authority that you like having me around.”

The light in Tommy’s eyes dims a bit, and for a horrible second Billy thinks he’s fucked up again. Tommy huffs a quiet laugh, breaking eye-contact. “Sorry about that, by the way.” 

“What?”

“Uh. Last night. Being all…” He grimaces, and wiggles his fingers in the air. 

“...Is that why you took off this morning?”

“I…maybe.”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy groans, and punches his shoulder. “You aren’t the only one who hates being left behind y’know.” 

“Oh.” 

You had me worried.

He bites his tongue. It doesn’t need to be said. Tommy’s expression is soft, despite the fact that he’s rubbing his bicep where Billy hit him. 

“You didn’t scare me off,” Billy mutters instead, and winces at his own plaintive tone. But he can’t seem to stop now that he’s started. “You still haven’t. Still like having you around. Y’know, if—if you’re gonna stay.” 

Tommy lets out a quiet breath. A tiny noise in the back of his throat. And then he sways forward, closing the gap between them, and kisses Billy square on the mouth.

He’s not expecting it, is the thing. People are usually pretty unsubtle when they want him, and he can read the signs. He knows when someone’s going to make a move and he can prepare, put himself in whatever headspace he needs to be in to get through it. 

And it’s not like he wasn’t aware that Tommy had been checking him out, but this is…it’s something else. 

Because he was caught unawares he doesn’t have a goddamn plan, so he just reacts, messy and a little desperate in a way he hasn’t been since his first few times getting physical with someone. It would be embarrassing, except for the way Tommy’s breath hitches, and he leans into it. He can’t seem to get close enough where he is, because he shuffles forward on his knees ‘til they’re on either side of Billy’s thighs. 

He hovers there, straddling Billy’s lap, still pressing sloppy kisses to his lips, but doesn’t sit until Billy grabs him around his waist and tugs. 

Tommy lets out a sharp puff of a gasp as he’s pulled closer, it’s warm where it tickles Billy’s moustache, and he finally breaks their kiss to snicker. 

“Fuck off, you surprised me,” Tommy says, the annoyed act falling flat when the words come out breathy and trembling. 

“Mhm,” Billy hums, grinning at Tommy’s complete inability to keep a straight face while he slips his fingers under the seam of Tommy’s waistband, toying with the elastic of his briefs while his palms rest comfortably on his lower back. 

There’s a heat simmering in his gut, coiled low and tight, but the weight in his lap and hesitant fingertips pressed to his stomach feel just as pleasant. It’s…weird. New. Fragile. He’s not quite sure what this is but he wants to hold on to it. 

“So…we’re good, right?” He bites inside of his cheek to ground himself, and stop any more stupid questions from falling out of his face.

“Yeah, I mean—yeah? Pretty sure I’m, uh. Very good right now.” His eyes flicker down. “I was better a second ago though.”

Billy pushes the tip of his tongue between his teeth, feeling very smug when Tommy zeroes in on it. “You sure you’re not mad about earlier?” he lets his voice drop an octave, leaning in just enough to feel Tommy’s breathing quicken. “‘Cause I’ll work real hard to make it up to you if you are.”

“That cheesy porno shit usually work for you?” His tone is light, teasing, threaded with laughter, but his gaze is still heavy on Billy’s mouth, pupils blown and hazy with lust.

“Oh please, like it isn’t getting you going?” Billy dips his hands lower, fingertips pressed lightly into the soft flesh of Tommy’s asscheeks. He isn’t digging in, isn’t pushing, but Tommy shifts closer anyways, ‘til their chests are nearly flush, and they touch, briefly, with each shallow breath. “I bet your briefs are soaked right now.” 

Like his are any better, really. It’s taking all his self-control not to squirm and rub his hard little cock all through the slick mess under him. 

Tommy’s eyes fall shut, and he shudders. Billy feels him quiver. He slides his hands up Billy’s chest, palms skimming his ribs, briefly pausing to trace his scars, and coming to rest just under his collarbone. 

A pause.

And Tommy shoves him. Hard. 

His back hits the carpet, knocking the air out of him in a rush, a wheezing, incredulous laugh. Sparks dance up his spine. The heat in his belly flares. Tommy’s looking down at him like he wants to devour him, and Billy’s more than willing to let it happen.

This time when Tommy goes for the belt buckle, he doesn’t stop him. 

It jingles against the button on his jeans, flopping to the side as Tommy fumbles with his fly, hooks his fingers into worn belt loops, and tugs. His jeans are as much of a pain to take off as they always are, they both grimace and groan as he wiggles out of them, stopping to pull off his boots when they get in the way.

“How the hell do you sleep around so much in these?” Tommy mutters, finally prying Billy’s legs free and chucking his rumpled jeans across the room with an annoyed huff.

Billy snorts. “They don’t usually come off.”

“...Oh.” He feels, suddenly, like maybe he’s said too much. The way Tommy’s eyeing him makes him feel every inch of his bare skin on display. He’d sit up, make himself a little less vulnerable, but Tommy’s shifted positions, straddling his stomach. “Do you just do over the clothes stuff, then, or…”

“Don’t really get touched at all, actually. Easier to avoid getting hate-crimed that way.” He turns his face away, cheek brushing the carpet. 

Tommy nods, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, yeah. It’s…Carol’s the only girl I’ve ever been with, and sometimes she didn’t even wanna. Y’know.”

“Yeah, guys aren’t much better, trust me.”

“I know,” he says ruefully, smiling small. “I think maybe Carol only kept me around as long as she did because she couldn’t find any other guy willing to go down on her that much.” 

“Damn, and she still dumped you? So ungrateful.” 

“Ha, yeah, well. She found someone with a real dick apparently. Said she missed getting fucked properly, or whatever.” 

Billy scoffs, “Ten bucks says she comes crawling back in two weeks when she gets tired of being some prick’s fucktoy.” 

He tenses, regretting the thought the second he has it. Tommy’s gotten back with her every time she’s asked. She snaps her fingers and he’s there, hers again like nothing happened. As much as Billy hates watching it happen every time, he gets it. His track record when it comes to letting the people he loves hurt him isn’t any better. But this time…

Does he have any right to hope it’ll be different now? Probably not. 

Tommy raises his eyebrows, a guarded sort of curiosity behind his mostly blank expression. 

“Don’t take her back,” Billy says, softly, stupid, vulnerable hope cracking him open. He focuses on the feeling of Tommy’s slacks under his palms, warm thighs bracketing his torso. The rough scratch of carpet against his bare back. The smell of his musty dorm room. Anything but the way his stomach twists into knots while he waits to get shot down. “She’ll just break your heart again, man,” he adds, like he can cover his ass and make it look like this isn’t about what he wants at all. 

“And you won’t?” He’s quiet. Serious. There’s a sad twist to his mouth. 

“I—” The silence in the air between them is stifling, heavy in Billy’s lungs as his chest rises and falls. In some fucked up way that feels like an admission. An acknowledgement of…something. The idea that Billy might have the power to break his heart is fucking terrifying, and the implications make his head spin. He bites his lip. “Not by leaving.”

Tommy huffs out a dry laugh, bowing his head and giving it a tiny shake. “Gee, thanks.” He’s hiding a smile. A small one, but it’s warm, despite his hesitance. 

Billy grabs the front of Tommy’s shirt, tugging him down while he cranes his neck, meeting him halfway to press a brief kiss to his mouth.

It’s less brief than he planned. Tommy’s fingers end up wound in his hair, his firm grip making Billy’s scalp tingle and heat simmer under his skin. He groans, low in his throat, and licks into Tommy’s mouth in retaliation. 

Time starts to blur a little. He’s not thinking about why he kissed Tommy in the first place. He’s not thinking of stopping, god fucking forbid. All that matters is the sharp, biting pressure of fingernails, the gentle glide of warm lips against his, and the sounds he can pull from Tommy with a flick of his tongue. Everything else is sort of fuzzy. 

He tries nipping Tommy’s bottom lip. Lightly. Testing the waters. He inhales sharply, something like a gasp he caught halfway, and more importantly, his hips jerk forward. Just a little. But him pressing down against Billy’s stomach like that sets a fire inside. An immediate needy wanting that rushes through him like an adrenaline spike. 

Billy pulls back an inch, breathing hard, “Do it again,” he demands, clutching Tommy’s waist with guiding hands, “C’mon, c’mon.”

“Jesus—fuck,” Tommy’s nose brushes his cheek as he starts to move, curling into Billy’s space and panting bitten-off curses in puffs of humid air against his jaw. 

The seam of Tommy’s pants chafes a little, rubbing against the taut line of his stomach, catching on the light dusting of hair, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he can feel Tommy’s legs start to tremble, and he gets to watch the way his face goes slack with pleasure, his eyebrows furrowed as he works his hips back and forth.

It’s not hard to imagine sliding inside him like this. Tommy sitting on his cock, all wet heat and freckled thighs. Riding him ‘til his muscles give out and Billy has to take over, snap his hips over and over, listening to the slap of skin and Tommy’s pleading for more. 

Fuck.

His grip on Tommy’s waist tightens, right as he gives one last jerky thrust, and his whole body tenses. He whimpers right in Billy’s ear before his head drops, hitting his shoulder.

Billy feels like a live wire. He aches. He wants. 

He waits, with bottom lip caught between his teeth, squirming and hoping it’s not too obvious. 

“Sooo,” Tommy drawls, still catching his breath, his nose smushed to Billy’s collarbone. “D’you want me to blow you, or was that—”

“Fuck, yes.”

Tommy snickers. “Alright. Prepare to have your world rocked.”

“Oh, and my pick-up line was cheesy porno shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Dick.”

His shoulders shake with barely suppressed laughter, and Billy can feel his smile widen. He’d almost be content to bask in the moment like a cat in a sunbeam, except—

Tommy shifts, sliding a thigh between his legs and pressing, and yeah, that’s much better, nevermind. He lets out a slow, shaky breath, staring hazily at the water-stained ceiling. 

“You liked seeing me get off, huh.” Tommy kisses his chest, lips still curved into a smile. Billy swallows hard, and folds his lips between his teeth. “You soaked right through your underwear. I can feel it.” 

He’s making his way down way too slowly. On purpose, the little shit. But Billy refuses to crack. He can wait. It’s fine. He only feels a little bit like he’s going to explode.

Tommy replaces his thigh with his hand as he crawls backward, trailing a light finger over the growing wet spot and not doing nearly enough to ease the throbbing ache between Billy’s legs, his lips trail down, inch by agonizing inch as he goes. He’s got nice lips. Billy wouldn’t mind kissing him for hours. Being kissed. 

Being kissed somewhere very specific right fucking now.

Billy’s legs spread a little further apart, without really meaning to, he arches his back, wriggles, trying to subtly get Tommy where he needs to be a little faster. 

Except he fucking pauses. Kisses Billy’s hipbone. Flashes an absolutely shit-eating grin. 

“Would you hurry the fuck up,” Billy groans.

Which cracks Tommy up. A laugh he’d obviously been holding back bursts out of him, muffled a little as he leans into Billy’s stomach, his shoulders shaking. 

“I hate you so much.”

Tommy looks up at him, eyes shining. “Nah. You don’t.”

“Fine, but I’d like you a lot more if you stopped being a tease.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles, and finally, finally, settles between Billy’s legs, flashing a grin before he pushes Billy’s briefs aside and drags his tongue through the wetness underneath. 

“Jesusfuckingchrist—” Billy inhales sharply, his whole body arching into the sweet pressure of Tommy’s mouth, somehow ending up with one leg hooked around him, trying to pull him closer. “Oh fuck.”

A whine catches in his throat when Tommy huffs a laugh, warm air somehow feeling cool against his flushed skin. He’s beyond caring about looking desperate, he just needs more. More of this. He rocks against the steady stroke of Tommy’s tongue, his breath hitching every time he brushes his cock and a concentrated bolt of pleasure lances through him.

Then Tommy wraps his lips around it, and sucks, and Billy’s vision whites out. It feels so good it fucking hurts. He cries out, wordlessly, grasping for something to hold on to.

“Holy shit, dude,” Tommy breathes, pulling back, pulling away, what the fuck, no—

“Hng,” Billy grunts, his hands waving uselessly, trying to reach Tommy to put him back where he was. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, a little breathless, a lot delighted. “Just…” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Billy’s underwear and starts tugging them off. “You’re so loud, man.”

The part of his brain that’s still working—the part that isn’t floating on a cloud of horny thoughts, mostly about how fucking pornographic Tommy’s mouth looks right now, pink, flushed, and slick from nose to chin—is smart enough to know that if he’s too loud they might get caught. But he’s having a hard time making himself care. And he’s sure he’ll care even less when Tommy puts his lips back where they fucking belong.

Then Tommy’s leaning over him, damp grey briefs folded up in one hand, easing Billy’s mouth open with the other.

He’s slow about it. Deliberate. Telegraphing his movements so Billy and the three brain cells he’s got left understand what he’a about to do. Billy could clench his jaw against his prodding at any time. He could turn his head to escape Tommy’s hold. 

But he doesn’t. 

The taste of his own sex isn’t unfamiliar, but it’s oddly thrilling in this context. It feels dirty in the best kind of way. Cotton sticking to his tongue, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth, Tommy’s gaze heavy on his parted lips. Billy wonders if he’s thinking about other things he could stuff Billy’s mouth with to shut him up. 

Biting down on creased fabric is odd, but it definitely muffles his whimpering. 

Which is, admittedly, handy when Tommy dives back in with no warning.

He doesn’t hold back at all, pressing in close, his hands gripping Billy’s hips to keep him in place. His tongue curls around Billy’s cock, over and over in firm swipes.

And Billy sees stars. He can hear his own stifled moaning through the makeshift gag, but he barely recognizes is own voice. Every pitched, breathy noise that comes out of him is a shock he doesn’t have time to linger on, and he doesn’t fucking care to, not when he can barely process how good he feels right now, let alone feel anything but Tommy’s mouth and the heat building under his skin. His whole body is taut with it, muscles tensing as he tries to hold onto the sparks dancing through him. 

It doesn’t take long for him to come with a hoarse shout and an embarrassing gush of wetness all over Tommy’s chin, white-knuckled and curled around Tommy’s sloped shoulders.

He flops back, breathing hard and staring, unseeing, at the ceiling.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says again, with something resembling awe. 

Billy closes his eyes, trying to measure the rise and fall of his chest. His whole body is tingling. And a little sore.

He feels a little tug, Tommy picking at the briefs stuffed into his mouth. He loosens his jaw and lets him remove them. There’s spit trickling down his cheek. Tommy wipes it up, carefully patting the side of his face. 

“You good?”

“Mhm,” Billy hums.

“...Been a while?”

He cracks an eye open and glances over at Tommy. His eyebrows are near his hairline, but it doesn’t look judgemental. A little amused, maybe. Billy sighs. “You could say that.”

“Oh?”

It’s been thirteen months since anyone’s touched him below the belt. He doesn’t remember who it was, but he remembers tequila and lime, hearing shitty dance music in another room while he let someone stick their hand in his pants, half-expecting it to retreat immediately. 

No one’s ever touched him like this, though. 

He runs his tongue across his bottom lip, unsure how to respond. He lands on, “Never been blown before.” 

Tommy blinks at him. “No shit?” His hand makes a weird aborted movement, then lands on the carpet next to him. Billy has the weird urge to hold it. Or to be held, maybe. As the sweat on his skin cools he starts to itch, an unfamiliar ache blooming in his chest.

“No shit,” he echoes.

“That’s…” Tommy scratches his eyebrow. “Kinda hot actually. I popped your cherry.”

“I’ve had sex.”

“Yeah, but not that kind.”

“...Whatever,” Billy mutters, his cheeks flushing.

“I’m serious, dude.” Tommy’s smiling now, his lips still shiny and pink and distracting. “That was, uh. Kind of awesome. All of it. Plus the cherry on top.”

He can’t help but snort, and smacks Tommy’s knee. “Fuck you, Hagan.”

“Maybe next time.”

That catches Billy’s attention. Whether it’s the promise of a next time or the thought of fucking him, he doesn’t know, but either way he’s suddenly unable to look anywhere but at Tommy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tommy lifts his chin a little, like a challenge, but his eyes are warm. “You said you weren’t goin’ anywhere, so…”

“I meant it.”

He’s caught off guard by the almost bashful way Tommy ducks his head suddenly, the tips of his ears going red, hiding a widening smile. “Good.” He shuffles a little closer. “Though I get why you’d stick around. Y’know. After I rocked your world.”

Billy groans, and rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Nah, nah, I wanna hear you say it.”

“No.”

“Come ooon.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And good with my tongue.”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy mutters, “Okay, fine, you rocked my world. Congrats.”

Tommy preens, supremely pleased with himself, and pokes Billy’s shoulder. “Told you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Billy tries his hardest to look annoyed at the prodding, but fails to do anything but grin at the ceiling.

“Now, I seem to remember you promising to put some work in, and so far you’ve just been layin’ there.” The smug look on his face is absolutely out of control. Billy swats at him, but Tommy just catches his hand and kisses his palm, grinning like a fucking maniac. “Gotta do better than that, Hargrove.”

Billy tackles him, rolls them over, and pins Tommy’s hands above his head. 

And he puts some work in.

[thedo0zyslider]

This scene is going to be in a future EAL chapter, that by the current schedule will be posted in 2-3 months (maybe 4). I wanted to post it a little early, with it being pride month and all. Hope you enjoy!! ^^ The scene and my thoughts about it below the cut <3

Fwhip studied Jimmy’s face for a minute, brows furrowed just a little. He was clearly thinking about something, even if he tried really hard to look like he wasn’t, and it was bothering him. 

He waited a minute, in case it had just been a momentary thought in the cod's mind. It soon became clear that it wasn't, because Jimmy’s face became more scrunched up. If Fwhip had to guess it was something that had been on the blonde's mind for a while, one of those things he knew he needed to bring up but always waited too long to do. 

"Jim," He muttered softly, scooting closer from where they sat on the bed. "I can tell you're thinking about something important." 

"I'm obvious, huh?" Jimmy chuckled, leaning against his partner. 

"Yeah," The Count smiled, grabbing the cod's hand and lacing their fingers together. "So what is it?" 

Jimmy looked at nothing for a moment, pouting as he thought some more. Fwhip made a mental note to tell him later he looked cute like that. The blonde took a deep breath, as if to steady himself before speaking his mind. "Ya know how Shrub’s like....asexual? I'm...like that too." The cod muttered, and seemed almost embarrassed by the admission. 

Fwhip blinked a few times, which was probably not a good thing to see when Jimmy nervously glanced over. He hadn’t been expecting to hear that, and that wasn't meant in a bad way. The Count had really just been expecting something more par for the course with them, like.......well he doesn't know what exactly he was thinking Jimmy would tell him; a small part of his mind had been worried that they were about to break up in all honesty. 

As soon as Fwhip opened his mouth to speak he was cut off by Jimmy, who seemed to be rambling out of anxiety. He simply stayed silent, letting his partner explain as much as he needed to. "It's like....I'm not opposed to doing that stuff," Jimmy began, face turning a little red at the implied subject. "I mean if you really wanted to--nevermind that part. It's just that I don't view you in that way. I don't think of anyone like that and its kinda weird to me when other people do." He finished his explanations by flopping backwards onto the bed with a quiet huff, wincing a little as his own head collided with the Codfather’s head. 

"Sorry," He added a moment later, like this was something that warranted that response. 

Fwhip laid on his stomach next to the cod, resting his head on his arm. "You don't need to apologize," He said, shifting closer. "Being asexual doesn't make me love you any less." 

Tension seemed to leave Jimmy’s body, the blonde visibly relaxing. "Thanks.....means a lot." He whispered, a small smile momentarily resting on his face. 

In response Fwhip shifted closer again, until their arms were brushing. Jimmy looked over, moving so he was laying more on his side than his back. The Count lowered his voice a little, and suddenly understood why Jimmy had been so sheepish just a minute prior. "Ya know I always thought some romance things were weird." He muttered, and found that it was a little hard to admit something he'd never told anyone else before; not even Gem or Sausage. 

"It would just be like, random things about love and I wouldn’t get it or I'd think its strange and uncomfortable" He finished, a little unsure of how to word the rest of those feelings. 

Jimmy nodded. "Do you....still want me to be all romantic with you? Like is that fine?" He asked, and said something unexpected to the Count for the second time that day. 

"Nothing you've ever done bothered me, Jim. It does the opposite if anything." Fwhip smiled, appreciating the sweetness of the question. 

"Are you okay with...the making out and things like that?" The Count asked a moment later, gaze turning from soft to serious rather quickly. He was deeply hating the thought that he'd made Jimmy uncomfortable at any point. 

"I am." Jimmy answered almost instantly. "I would've said something if I wasn't." He added, seeing that Fwhip wasn't quite convinced yet. As if to make his point clearer, Jimmy leaned over to place a rather low down and open mouthed kiss on Fwhip's jawline; basically pressing it to his neck. 

The Count giggled in response, moving positions so he could hold Jimmy to his chest. He wrapped his arms around the other, their legs and tails ending up in a bit of a tangled mess in the process. The cod buried his face into Fwhip's shoulder, light and contended clicking sounds coming from his throat. Fwhip rested his chin on Jimmy’s forehead, making his own content sound in the form of a purr. 

"I never told Scott that, back then." Jimmy muttered it quietly after a little while of just holding each other, so quietly Fwhip thought he'd imagined it at first. "I should've....we just never really had those kinda conversations. I've only really told Shrub and Lizzie before you" 

"I never told anyone about my like....weird romance thing at all." Fwhip matched his partner's soft tone. Jimmy held him just a little tighter. 

"I'm glad you felt like you could tell me, I really am." He muttered. 

"Same here." Fwhip pressed a kiss or two to Jimmy’s soft hair, continuing to lay there and listening to the sound of his partner's steady breathing. ------------------------------------

I had the idea of Jimmy being asexual when writing chapters 7-9 and it became so important to me very fast. Like immediately. I knew I had to acknowledge it at least once. I didn't want it to be another thing in the tags, and also knew that they should probablyyy have a conversation about that at some point I just really wanted to establish Jimmy’s asexuality and how Fwhip just loves him regardless. (Some part of my mind also decided that EAL Fwhip is on the aromantic spectrum when writing. No idea where he falls on it he's just. somewhere, vibing. This one might just be me projecting past crises though hjkwfgh)

[spikybanana]

what if james regulus lily remus & sirius went looking for horcruxes instead part five of the jegulily mini series. prompt: chase [masterpost here] [prompts here]

It was all about the chase, James reckoned. Running after and grasping at the opportune moments before they disappeared again. The year churned on as they amassed clues, amassed information about the horcruxes— and how to destroy them. 

James was frankly stunned that they were able to do any of this. It’s not like they had any practice slaying a basilisk or a dragon or two, before personally taking on the demolition of Voldemort’s demonic scheme, of ultimate self-objectification into nasty bits of heirloom that should have gone into burial with the gits that owned them. 

But somehow, between the few of them clueless-nearly-young-adults, they were making headway. Regulus and Remus were a formidable duo when put together to research; they’d turned over the whole Restricted Section and the Black’s family library in under a month. Lily begrudgingly took on the burden of chatting up their professors for information (she was the teacher’s pet and the least suspicious one out of them, after all), and they were all floored by what she’d managed to get out of Slughorn. James and Sirius schemed like there’s no tomorrow, because it was no longer some petty prank to one-up some Slytherins, but the Slytherin himself.

To all appearances, Regulus stayed close to his family and the group of them that gleefully gathered at Voldemort’s side, but at the end of the day Regulus would always be there, waiting for them in the Room of Requirement. James found endless joy and pride and satisfaction in seeing Regulus’s mask soften and fall, as he smiled at James and flicked his brother on the forehead and gave Lily a kiss. It was ludicrous to think that plotting for Voldemort’s downfall would be the thing to hold them fast together with unshakable trust. If only Regulus would eventually find it in him to trust Peter, too. It saddened James that Peter was drifting away, responding with no more than an indifferent shrug when the other three so often begged off with purported “Order business”. But then, there were always the full moons when they’d all four come together. Nothing would take that away from the boys… until Moony might need to leave for those missions Dumbledore had been hinting at. 

But while they were still in Hogwarts, wrapped all around each other in the insulated cosiness of the Room, James could let the weight of it all escape him. He was young and really fucking in love with the two most beautiful human beings who somehow loved him back, and it was exciting and dizzying, it made his blood laugh and sing in his veins, especially when they got to kick out Sirius and Remus at the end of their meetings and watch the Room of Requirement transform into a warm intimate space, just for them.

As far as the horcrux hunt went— well. A whole team of five very-smart-people (if James should say so himself) made it almost too easy. Their first break came when they found out that Moaning Myrtle and the Grey Lady are in fact friends (huh), and Remus had befriended Moaning Myrtle back in first year. James desperately wanted to tease him for it, but that’s poor form given how it led them to the diadem. And, as long as he got to vent loudly and profusely about them, Regulus ingratiated himself with Voldy’s lackeys enough, to be considered one of their own. This made him privy to all sorts of “secret” treasures the precious Lord bestowed upon his followers for safekeeping, which they managed to retrieve with switcheroo heists doubly reviewed and approved by Remus and Lily. (Lucius was a fool and a half for being so careless, but Regulus was almost caught by Bellatrix. Luckily, James had gotten so good at forgeries and duplication charms, he could have gotten into the business of professionally pissing off the goblins.) And, before they knew it, they were collecting pieces of Voldemort’s soul in his parents’ backyard. Merlin’s fucking dangly bits. 

It got harder when they left Hogwarts, got flats in London, and each went into their new jobs. They didn’t quite have time to romanticise the London bar-crawling cheap-club-hitting lifestyle, and the few blocks between their flats felt like miles between Auror training and Order business that had picked up in earnest. Remus and Sirius were having a few rocky spells themselves, because Remus kept coming back from missions moody and hurt. Peter went back to live with his mum, and they barely talked at all. He finally joined the Order too, but was confused when he realised none of it was similar to the half-arsed stories the others had been telling last year. Maybe Peter began avoiding them, then, but James hated to think about it. And Regulus— they missed Regulus like a bleeding limb. James and Lily constantly talked about him, about what Regulus would be scowling about again at school, what it would be like to have Regulus with them there, but the distraction was futile. Without Regulus, they got impatient and snappy with each other, and their being irritated with themselves unwittingly made it even harder for the other. 

And the horcrux hunt was going nowhere either, though it seemed to be all they talked about anymore whenever Sirius and Remus were over. Like they were doing now. They’d been arguing for the past hour and all they’ve managed to establish was that Sirius should Shut Up about Moony’s Missions and Remus should Shut Up about His Share of Rent.  

“Stop!” James shouted, chair scraping as he sprung up from the table. He ran his hands roughly under his glasses. “Just— stop.”

James righted his glasses. Three sets of crossed arms glared at him. 

“What are you suggesting, then, wonder boy?” Lily said, pointedly not raising her voice. 

“We need to stop talking about this. Just today— we’ll relax and, hang out like normal, can’t we? It’s almost Christmas and—” And Regulus isn’t here. Nor had they heard from him even though Reg promised he’d be here. It’s hard for him to send word, which James understood, but for the love of Merlin he needed a mug of heavily spiked hot drink before Sirius threatened fiendfyre arson on his parent’s house again. 

Lily pinched between her brows, Remus was rubbing his temple, but Sirius was the first to relent. Then one by one, their expressions softened.

“You’re right, James.” Sirius responded, voice quiet. He let out a humourless low chuckle, “We’re really letting it get to us, aren’t we?”

“And who could blame us?” Lily slowly wrung her hands. They were growing dry from the severe cleaning charms at Mungo’s. “Remus?”

“I could do with some hot cider,” Remus muttered, then pushed off towards the kitchen, expertly hiding (from no one present) a wince and a limp from the last full moon. 

Lily watched Remus walk off, waited for Sirius to follow, then turned to James. She opened her mouth to speak, but James hurriedly leaned forward and stole the word with a kiss. He wrapped both his hands around hers and started to murmur rapidly between kisses, “I asked mum to send some of the moisturiser she used back in the day, you should try some of that, the muggle stuff you’ve got don’t really work with charms and—”

“James—”

“My dad might have made it specifically for mum but he sent me the instructions and we can probably tweak it or maybe you can because you’re smarter at those stuff anyway—”

“James—”

“Everything is going to be fine!” He insisted. “I know we’re scared, and tired, and maybe it’s only just the beginning but we’re going to be fine.”

Lily stared at him for a long time, bright green eyes wavering and James’ heart wanted to shrink away. “How do you know?” She asked in a whisper.

James’ throat knotted. He suddenly couldn’t get a word out. He couldn’t answer at all, until—

A doorbell. A knock. A coded knock. 

They gasped simultaneously. It was almost Christmas but Christmas had come. Regulus has found them, Regulus has come. 

“Well, you see?” James looked back to Lily, eyes glittering now. A slow smile was spreading on his own face. “See what I said? This will be just fine.” 

They shared one last fierce kiss, before both rushed for the door.

[inkribbon796]

Egotober 2023 Day 14: Relative Time

Summary: Logan knew lots of things. That the world was unfair, that things didn’t work out the way he wanted them to, and that five years was a very long time.

A/N: We get a prisoner two-fer special. One today and Yancy’s visitation Day tomorrow.

Logan’s brother is Orange, I am calling him Dante here. It may be subject to change any time I feel like it, or when we learn Orange’s name.

Prompt: Time

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Four years. Four months. twenty-two days.

That’s how long Logan had before he could pick up brother, and Logan was certainly counting. He had a clock timer in the bedroom he had shared with his brother, a little paper manual flip timer in the kitchen to make himself feel better, and then the one on his phone.

His older half-brother, older by almost ten whole years, had always been there for him. Their mom had never been around and then when Logan was almost thirteen their father just didn’t come home after work. Leaving Logan and his brother alone.

To this day Logan had no idea what had actually happened to him. If he had just abandoned them, or if the various gangs and enemies he’d had run-ins with had done him in. The end was the same, and honestly Logan wasn’t ready to actually go looking yet.

But today was very important for Logan, he was taking the bus down to the correction center to visit his brother. He did it every month like clockwork and it made him feel less hopeless.

Logan made sure that he didn’t have anything dangerous on him before leaving and got there right on time like always. He had to be, he couldn’t emotionally afford to be late.

Once there he went through his usual routine, went into the little visitor’s side, checked in his bag and agreed to get searched, and then waited on one side of the visitation area.

It took a bit for his brother to come out in his orange jumpsuit. There were guards all around the room and Logan was not the only person visiting someone. But Logan did his best to pretend.

“Hey,” Logan said. “Dante.”

“Sup,” his brother said. He had a new little scar over his eyes and Logan was terrified of losing him.

“What happened?” Logan asked.

“Relax, it’s nothing big,” Dante said. “How’s school?”

“It’s,” Logan faltered, trying to be normal about this but he couldn’t. His brother shouldn’t be . . . no he couldn’t think like that here. “It’s fine.”

“Good grades?” Dante said, a hint of pride to his voice.

“Yeah, if I keep going I’ll be valedictorian of my year,” Logan said.

“Good,” Dante said.

“I miss you,” Logan said.

“I know,” Dante said. “Don’t it’ll make it harder. Time moves slower when you want something. Focus on your schooling, and you know where to go if you need anything right?”

Logan nodded. His brother was talking about one of his brother’s old friends who was essentially helping Logan by finding him a job and keeping him living in the apartment. “Yeah, Jan found me a job at his restaurant.”

“Good, should be enough,” Dante said. “Make sure you take care of yourself, don’t get in with the wrong crowd.”

Logan wanted to make a joke but he just couldn’t. “I might have found some apprenticeship for college.”

That got a bit more of his brother’s interest. “Really? With who?”

“Optical Engineering and Robotics,” Logan said, it was Bing’s civilian front. Well known for just giving internships to normal people and then passing them off to college. Logan working with Bing’s little engineering company was to be expected.

“Huh,” Dante said. “Well, you’re smart. Figures someone would see how smart you are.”

Logan smiled.

They would get to talk just a little bit more before his brother had to go. Logan couldn’t stay and that was how things worked.

Time moved on for Logan. Maybe Bing had something for him to do to take his mind off things. He’d try and take his mind off things until next month.

[damonjuicyscock]

Pictures of you-Chapter 6 (90's Liam Gallagher X Reader)

Pairing: 90's Liam Gallagher X Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, a bit of fluff (Liam trying to be cute, but also being a cute bastard), maybe a few spelling mistakes.

Words: 2273

Summary: You're Oasis's official photographer. Your relationship with Liam changes little but by little bit, but is it safe for you to fall in love with him ?

A/N: I'M BACK ! My Wi-Fi came back, so here is the chapter you've all been waiting for. The smut will be published on Thursday and not on Wednesday because I'll be on the road and will not have time to write the smut, knowing I'm not there tomorrow and Tuesday. I've received some messages asking me if there will be smut in the fanfic, yes there will be ! But I'm building tension little bit by little bit just as I said. And you know that with Liam, it can be pretty smutty !

Enjoy !

(Because Roll with it at TOTP is pure comedy)

Nothing changed after this kiss between Liam and I.

He kept fucking groupies, he continued to be Liam, A little prick.

I was mad at Noel, but I kept doing my job, professionally.

Was I jealous? I didn’t care at all at the moment. I was living my life.

I even met a cute guy, who was kind to me, but it was like being friend with the enemy, because this guy was Graham Coxon.

Graham was cool, but I didn’t like Damon. I thought Liam and Damon weren’t the same, but they were both cocky bastards.

Noel finally apologized in July 1995.

I had one month relationship with Gray and we broke up in august 1995, both being pressured from our sides by Oasis and Blur’s members, and fuck I had a hard time getting over it.

Graham had been so lovely, I was attached to him, a lot. Not in love, but greatly attached.

6 years that I was sick, and this shit didn’t want to go away.

And you all know what happened as well in August 1995. Roll with it v Country house, aka the beginning of the Britpop war.

They were all acting as if they were doing fine, but Guigsy and Liam weren’t.

That’s where everything started.

In September 1995, the gentle soul that Guigsy is, left the band for a few because he was suffering of a nervous exhaustion. That’s also when Liam lost it.

September 14th 1995-Stoke on trent:

I was in my hotel room, listening to music and smoking a joint, until I heard a loud knock at my door, making me jump.

I walked to the door and opened it. Here he was, a whiskey bottle in his hand.

Liam?

Yer free?

Huh yeah…

I let him come in.

What are ye doing?

I was listening to the last Wet Wet Wet album and there you are.

Liam chuckled

Yer listening to this music fer pussies? Thought you were Rock N’Roll!

Says the man who listens to Erik Satie. Actually they’re pretty good. They’re like Oasis, they progressed since their inception.

He took a sip of his whiskey before adding:

That’s shit!

You clearly didn’t hear yourself during rehearsals, and if you’re here to spit on what I listen to, you can piss off back to your room. What do you even want?

The smile he had plastered on his lips faded.

Dunno. He shrugged

You don’t know?

Nope.

And I saw his eyes betray him. Tears invaded them, and he tried to resist from crying.

Liam, is there something wrong? You seem…sad?

I…’s nothing.

What? You’re scared I might judge and mock you? Well no Liam, I’m not like you. So either put your fucking pride aside for a second and don’t feel like you’re weak because you’re not and talk to me or shut the fuck up and go back to your room.

This seemed to wake something inside him.

Ye really want to know what’s wrong? What is it right, Guigsy’s gone, me brother almost hates me, Blur pisses me off, ‘s lot to take, d’ye know what I mean?

Yes, I know what you mean. I’m actually an expert in what is the impression of feeling too much and actually feeling too much. You just don’t understand it and it scares you, am I right?

He looked at me deeply in the eyes, wiping a tear away before nodding.

And Liam, Noel doesn’t hate you. You know, he’s been different with all of us since what happened last year in L.A. Except with Whitey, of course. You know, he’s my best friend and my favorite person, but sometimes, he really deserves to be punched in the face. Noel loves you without a doubt. You’re his little brother and he wants to protect you from some things.

I’m not a kid anymore, me.

No you’re not, but you’re acting like one.

It led him to wiper more tears away. He knew that this was the whole truth.

He put his head on my shoulder. I didn’t know how to act. What could I do in this case?

I caressed his head through his hair and his face and I felt him soften. Was there really a soft Liam?

That’s when he lift his head up, looking at me with the most tender look I ever saw. The, he crushed his lips on mine, delicately.

I was surprised but answered the kiss.

When his tongue asked for entrance, I let him, our tongues melting together.

When our kiss came to an end, I looked at him, blushing.

Liam, I… I don’t…

It’s not like we never kissed.

I don’t love you Liam.

Says the bird as red as a tomato.

I may be red, but just because you and your ego took all my air and I can’t breathe.

Oh C’mon Y/N, I want to bury the hatchet.

You always want to bury it when you’re drunk.

I wasn’t when we kissed the first time.

Yes you were.

Not.

And what? You want to bury it by fucking me? You’re barking up the wrong tree Liam, you’ll never get to fuck me, even the idea of it makes me want to throw up.

We could have fun though.

YOU couldn’t have fun. I wouldn’t.

So what, yer rejecting the wonderfulest man in the universe?

And here we go again…Liam, when will you finally understand I hate what you are?

And what am I, me?

A condescending little prick, full of himself, who only loves himself, and is incapable to love anyone else but himself, and I despite this kind of guy, I despise you Liam, as much as you despise me. You just want to fuck me because you want to brag about it like “look, she hates me, but I managed to get her, she caved liked the good and easy girl she is”. And no Liam, you will NEVER get me.

Are ye always a fucking mardy bird?

A mardy for what? Describing the truth? You can have all the girls you want Liam, but you can’t have me, I’m not interested. And though, why would you even have me in your bed except for what I said? You came crying here because you thought I would pity you and let you fuck me? Bad move dude.

Nah, I came here because I know ye wouldn’t judge me about what I felt about this shitty period.

But the consolation will never be what you hope for.

Except I almost fell for it. The thing was I saw he was trying to get along with me since our kiss in Rockfield. But wasn’t it to destroy me after? And though, I really hated the part of him I described.

I was trying to protect myself. Because slowly, I was falling for him, and I didn’t know it yet.

And less than a week after… It was my turn to fuck up.

*

September 21st 1995-London

Liam 23rd’s birthday. I was surprised to be invited. Maybe Noel insisted, I never knew, because I never asked the question.

It took place in a nightclub, where Liam privatised a part for the night.

I decided to wear a dress for once. It was large, red and low-cut. Red is always sexy, isn’t it?

I wore some blue on my eyes as makeup with some mascara, eyeliner and a red lipstick.

When I arrived, no one recognized me. No one except Liam, surrounded by girls, who lift his head up at the coincidal moment I appeared in front of him.

He was agape and in literal awe.

I winked at him and joined the others at the bar.

Evening boys. I said

Y/N? Noel asked

Yeah?

I almost didn’t recognize ye!

Did my face change? I asked

No! But…

I know Noely, you’re not used to see me like this.

And yer stunning! Bonehead said

Thank you dear.

I ordered a bottle of gin and asked for tonic to make some G&Ts.

Liam joined us at the bar. Alone.

Hi Y/N.

Hi Liam, no chicks?

Told them it was a private party with me mates. He said, smiling

That’s great. Happy birthday. I answered

Thank ye. Yer beautiful by the way.

I smiled as an answer.

The summary of the evening is quite simple. We all drank until we got dead drunk, snorted cocaine, smoked cigarettes and joints, and some of us didn’t, until I heard a song my gay brother loved and listened to. I ended up dancing on the dancefloor to Never Can Say Goodbye by the Communards. Not so Rock N’Roll. I reproduced the exact same dance than in the official video with people who also knew it. I used to see my brother do it so much I knew it by heart.

Boys were talking between them now at a table, even if Liam was throwing me discrete looks, watching me dance, and smiling like an idiot.

His brother finally caught him doing it.

Go dance with her! Noel encouraged him

Are ye mad? No!

Yer dying fer it! I’m sure she won’t refuse!

That’s not me type of music man!

No one will know, go!

Until the moment he decided to join me on the dancefloor, the music changed. It was now Sometimes by Erasure. When I saw him next to me, I was surprised, but smiled. And I was smiling like someone high and drunk.

It was the first time I danced with him and in fact, it was cool.

He took my hands and made me turn on myself. I laughed hard, not used to this, but also because I was having fun. And this was the second time Liam was making me laugh and laughing with me.

It felt lie a privileged moment, before we would come back to our usual arguing and practically insulting each other.

Then he got to grab me by the waist and crushed his lips on mine.

Of course I answered the kiss. And can I use the pathetic excuse that is “I was drunk”?

At the time I did.

Especially because everyone saw us.

The guys immediately reacted.

What the fuck! He really kissed her!  Bonehead exclaimed

Yup, he did! Noel, ye alright? Alan asked

Noel had his hands clasped together, consterned.

I just hope they won’t end up together, it would be a big mistake.

Are ye jealous or summat? Bonehead asked him

No, I just want to protect them from each other. If they end up together, it won’t end well.

Who says it will end?

Because I know them both, and believe me, it’ll be chaotic. Their features don’t match.

It isn’t our fucking business mate. We can’t act on this.

I know, me.

Liam and I ran back to the table, hand in hand, Noel catching it.

Okay, just to be clear, Noel and I have never been together and never felt love towards each other. Or maybe some kind of sibling love, purely platonic if you prefer. He really was looking to protect us. And in a way, he wasn’t wrong for wanting to do so.

But he was wrong in saying our features don’t match. They even matched and match too much.

Except from our personalities, Liam and I were practically the same, and that was why it might not have worked or worked but clashed and clash a lot.

After that, we drank a lot more and snorted more cocaine.

We drunkenly walked back to Liam’s place, hand in hand before kissing me in front of his front door.

And after this, a total blackout.

*

The morning after, I woke up, shitfaced.

The first thing I saw was that I was in my underwear, without my bra.

That’s when I heard snoring beside me. Liam was still asleep.

I knew nothing happened between us when I saw he only had his shirt opened and he was in his jeans that were closed.

By the way, he had a nice morning boner.

I discretely stepped out of the bed, dressing up and took the rest of my things.

Where are ye going?

Oh, good morning Liam.

Don’t wanna cuddle?

I…I gotta go.

Okay, what’s wrong? Liam asked, dryly

What is wrong Liam is I didn’t sleep in my bed last night. What’s wrong is I slept in your bed, we kissed, and I was drunk. I won’t give you any hope, it meant nothing to me. I already told you, I don’t love you.

Leave then.

That was what I was about to do.

And make sure ye don’t forget anything, I don’t want ye to come back.

Oh I won’t, don’t worry ‘bout that.

Bitch.

Asshole.

I left his bedroom, showing him my two middle fingers. The truth was that during the free 10 days remaining before tour, I needed to think. The truth was this night changed one more thing. The truth was that I was slowly falling for the little prick that Liam Gallagher was.

But I couldn’t let him have me and hurt me. Not with my condition.

[bloodybunny28]

Game On!

AVGN x Reader

Warning ⚠️: Possible smut?

Note: Kinda notice there is just a few AVGN fanfics, so I am gonna make one.

Please don't judge me, this my first goddamn fanfic. Just testing my writing skills and the techniques that I've got from reading fanfics.

Beep.

Boop.

Beep.

You two are seating in a black soft couch, variety of games for different game consoles surrounding.

You just watching your friend named Nerd playing Galaga.

Since the day you met him in that small game shop, you just fell your head over heels.

Everytime you came in his house, down to the basement from work as a cashier in convenience store. What you always do is just watch him playing games, one after another. Just a way to make yourself happy, seeing him and just playing makes your day.

But this day, is a bit different. Rather say a big change to your whole life.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

A word that just running through your mind. Not until something came up. An idea that could kill two birds in one stone:

A confession of love and acceptance.

You've been thinking this for days, weeks, months and years. On what will happen if you confess your love to him.

Will he be shocked? Or Disgusted?

You keep thinking that because he always say his goddamn motto everytime someone asks why he doesn't have a girlfriend:

"Nerds before birds."

So in order to make that, you are going to challenge in a bet.

Thinking to yourself, nothing to lose now. At least I admit my feelings to him, making this whole thing over.

Telling to yourself:

GAME ON.

"Hey nerd."

"Yeah, y/n?"

"Kinda bored, I just wanna play a game and bet with ya."

"And that is?"

"Let's play Street Fighter 2, three rounds, 60 seconds. Whoever wins, will accept any requests."

"Sure, challenge accepted."

Nerd go to the NES console and ejected the game.

He unplugged the NES and he plugged and turn on the SNES. He go to the shelves and get the Street Fighter 2 cartridge and put on the slot.

After the title screen appeared, he get the 2 controllers and he give you the other one and sit down on the couch.

He chose two player and ot proceeded in character select screen. He chooses Ryu and you choose Chun-li.

After that the game starts, on the first round. He just murdered YOU. He just fucking spam the spinning kick of Ryu on you. It just continues until the third round.

You try your best to avoid that but he was too smart, he always cornered you and fucking spamming that move. You can't lay a finger because he always fucking do that.

When the three rounds are over. The face of defeat was all over your face. You lower your hands while holding the controller just to show that you just really defeated because of what he do.

"So, I am the winner heh." Saying it with pride.

"You will not become a winner if you didn't just keep fucking spamming that move!"

"Why? You didn't say that spamming moves are not allowed, you just say best of three."

Well, he has a point. You didn't say that.

"Yeah, okay fine. What you want me to do?."

"Huh, well..."

He just put his hand on your back of your neck and he pull you in a kiss.

A goddamn KISS.

Due to that, you were shocked. So shocked, trying to process what is happening.

He just keep kissing your lips, latching onto you.

After a few seconds, your brain finally process. You close your eyes and synced.

When the air is getting thin, you two both separate.

"That is my goddamn request."

"Wait, what does that mean?"

"Well, since the day I met you. Let's say I lose my heart to you."

"So that means you like me?"

"What do you fucking think? Of course! Kinda scare to admit that I like you."

"Well, Nerd. I like you too. Since the day I met you in that small game shop."

That string of words made you feel a lot better.

Since that happen, you have another idea came up on your mind.

You quickly straddled his hips and you put your right hand on his face, caressing it. The nerd was shocked.

"Well, since all that confessing stuff happened. Make a better request shall we?"

He smirked, and kissed you again ravishingly.

I AM GOING TO END THIS HERE BECAUSE I AM SCARED THAT I AM NOT GOOD AT WRITING SMUT. SO SORRY.

If you wanted me to release an explicit version of this, please message me.

Hope you like it. :)

[its-inevitable-lupe]

One I we didn’t have much experienced

two I we mentally emotionally unstable .. needy dependent to each other but Independent to the world.

But gosh woman.. you loved me a lot more… you tolerated me so much. and I think you really will always will.. that when you mention other people I actually never get bother or anything because even if you don’t say it… even if you come back to me and message and have your breakdowns… a part of you will always pick me even if you don’t stay with me. Which I understand. I would of wanted to know your true feelings for me… I want to hear them.. to feel them. I wanted you to hurt me… to tell me what I did.. what I did to make you became this person??? Because I really brought this person out of you…. and I think after my stupid rants about people.. I think a part of me will always try to remember and forget you at the same time. I compare… i think of you always even when I dont. No pride but you are always daily… constantly with me. Now A stranger I use to find comfort endlessly. And I think my nights with you even if you were 4 Thousand miles away from me felt like absolute home and peace.. obviously when we were behaving and just really being cute. A part of me wishes I could remember more nice things. I honestly can’t explain to you fully what’s happening in my life. It really sounds dramatic. I wish you were nicer… gentle.. and I felt your little self speak to me when you message me… and I’m sorry I felt nothing tbh…. And I’m sorry I was too much at the end but tbh you deserve it. I really wish that you would come to be open handed and more open to me with what happen.. like really tell me. Why wait weeks… months.. years.. why come and go… why do this to you and to me. I deserved the behavior in the past but today I do not. Don’t treat me like the person you once knew. I stop writing of you and it was okay tbh and nice to really get over it and the anger I had. The sadness. My ego is huge at times and my blindness and overthinking ruin many things but I learn to tame it. I missed the fuck out of you. You have zero idea how many days… for three years I wish you would apologize and message me and tell me fuck my conscious is killing me… it’s getting to me. Until I felt and detach myself from you. Body and mind and heart I drag you out of me. I did everything to get over you. Yes. I done it all. I cut once bc of you. People, drugs, alcohol which I happen to have a problem but two weeks this week clean…… would you be proud of me? Your past self would. And feel love for me.

But oooh How the many many countless nights you would stalk me and maybe in your heart you would feel for me but you left me alone. That’s something that will always deeply sadden me. It’s something I forget but don’t forget.. it’s something I’m used to in my life and being abandon… that has always been my life so things that should make me sad I don’t feel it like a normal person……. Maybe if I did I would never look or speak to you ever. Like other people but I give chances and I have love and empathy in my soul. Why can’t you just stay with me and save the games… like we aren’t playing but we are here.. and everyone is watching. Why can’t you admit you miss me huh… you feel something… DAMM. At least something

(I fell asleep never send).

[sweetlywriting]

Can you make a Twisted wonderland when you break up with them, but you were forced

Scenario-Someone forces you to break up with them

Includes-Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Azul Ashengrotto, Rook Hunt, Riddle Rosehearts

A/N-I really like this idea anon, but you didn't ask for a specific character so I'm going to do my favorites <3

Leona Kingscholar-

Oh great

Leona had come to accept the fact that the world never let him become king, but now you were out of reach too?

At times it may not seem like he cares but the way he sucks up his pride and whispers pleas shows he truly did love you

Leona's not one to chase you though, if you want to leave you can

Since your gone he spends most of his time sleeping, but even in sleep all he can think about is how empty the bed is without you next to him

He feels like he’ll just sleep for the rest of eternity.

Until he overheard a couple of your friends talking about how sad it was that you were forced to break up with him, To which he drops whatever he’s doing and runs around the school til he’s found you

He’s not letting you go for at least the next month, also whoever forced you to break up with him is their ass kicked

“Herbivo- Y/n please don’t do that again.”

Vil Schoenheit-

Hah! that’s got to be a joke right?!

He really does think it’s a joke, mostly because he’s too scared that you're not joking

He’ll pretend that you’re still together while telling others that you're just upset over something, half trying to convince himself

When you stop waiting for him after class and holding his hand he starts to get serious

Vil’s a direct person and he will find out why you broke up with him

He’ll be quite upset that you didn’t tell him that you were being forced, and he’s definitely going up to whoever did it and starting an argument

Normally he would make a scene and yell when he’s mad but he genuinely just wants the person who had done such a horrible thing how much he adores you and that nothing can force the two of you apart

And then he’ll convince you to confess again because you “technically” broke up with him.

“My life is only so perfect because you're in it, so please don't do that again.”

Azul Ashengrotto-

What? Why?

He’s very confused and much more frantic too

Did he do something wrong? He quickly tries to find reasons you would do something like this so out of the blue, but a part of him is saying that he was never worth much in the first place, that you would be happier with someone else

Once he comes to that painful conclusion he quickly shoves himself into his work hoping to ease the pain

Jade and Floyd see this and are not happy. What happened to your relationship? It was fine a day ago?

They’re not going to let it go either

One way or another they will find out

When they tell Azul he’s more relieved than anything, he’ll quickly send Floyd and Jade to “squeeze” whoever has been forcing you to break up with him and find you and hold you tight

He won’t admit it but he cried quite a bit.

“I want you to be with me forever.”

Rook Hunt-

Rook observes you quite a lot being an adept hunter, and can easily tell that you don’t want to actually break up with him

The only problem is he doesn’t know why you're doing this

But with a little help from Vil in less than a day he can quickly find out who's forcing you, and he’s not going to stand for it

He’ll make sure they learn their lesson

And then promptly tell you that the problem is gone with a dashing smile and a flick of his hat

No time to be angsty because he figured it out so quick

But he will be slightly sad that you felt like you couldn’t tell him immediately.

“Ah love, I know you too well.”

Riddle Rosehearts-

Huh? Why?

You better believe that there will be no breaking up with Riddle until you tell him exactly why

If you really did lose your feelings he’ll let you go, but he can tell something I’d clearly wrong

You were both laughing an hour ago

He’ll eventually get you to tell him with some persuasion, black mail, and Treys cookies

Whoever forced you to break up is clearly losing their head

He’ll make up some rule about no splitting up the housewarden's partner.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave me.”