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shieldofiron · 17 days

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Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977

Part 1/3 Also on Ao3 here

For @harringrove-relay-race. Very happy with how part 1 turned out, and there will be more to come. Thanks to @foxxtastic for the intro and next up will be something stunning from our fearless Relay Race leader @half-oz-eddie

Rated M / 5k words / Part 1/3

Part 1: Into Hades

Rolling Stone Magazine - May 2002

Billy Hargrove arrived after I did, in his lovingly maintained blue Camaro, the subject of his song, “Lady Blue.” “Lady Blue” was recently named #93 on Rolling Stone’s Top Love Songs of the Century.

“I wrote, ‘She’s the wind in my hair, the rumble in my soul.’ I thought it was so obvious,” He laughed, his blue eyes still boyish. “My niece made it her wedding song, I said ‘Really? It’s about a fuckin’ car!’”

He showed me several pictures of his niece, the supermodel Tyler Sinclair. It seems good looks run in the family. He suggested the diner and he ordered waffles, winking when I mentioned that we’ll be here a long time.

The decades have been kind to him, maybe a few more lines. It’s not hard to imagine him stepping right back onto the stage, as if no time has passed at all.

“A little extra glitter on the eyes,” He said with a smile, “to hide my crows feet. That’s all I need.”

I ask what he’s going to wear to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for Kaleidoscope's induction and his smile dims only for a moment.

“I think I should pull out some old costumes. You know, the butterfly still fits.”

He was referring, of course, to the sheer butterfly cape costume that nearly had him thrown off the stage in Houston Texas in December 1976. He caved to putting on a pair of silvery shorts rather than the nude underwear it was designed with. He later wore it with the nude underwear on the inside cover of Kaleidoscope, the album that will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in just a few short weeks. Kaleidoscope was his last album with the iconic Glam Rock band Pretty Boy, which famously broke up at the height of their career while touring for the album, onstage.

It’s not often that a band is inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and there’s a question if all of them will even show up.

“I’ll be there,” Hargrove said, fiddling with the silver band on his middle finger. “I have no problem with seeing him.”

The him is, of course, the lead guitarist and other lead singer of Pretty Boy, Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington invites me to his oceanfront house in Malibu later that afternoon.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to go,” He said thoughtfully, his brown eyes darting around the room.

When I mention that Billy is going to go, he seems surprised.

“He didn’t say he was going to punch me, did he?” Harrington smiled, but it doesn’t seem like much of a joke.

For one of the most famous rock stars of the 70s, Harrington is shockingly low key. He wears a t-shirt and slouchy linen pants, and he jokes that he ought to have shaved when I take out my camera. The house is stunning but empty, with miles of blank white walls and overstuffed white furniture.

“I’m looking for a little peace,” He shrugs, “I used to have all these pictures up, all this furniture… It was too much.”

It was hard not to see him as an artist without a muse. He drifted listlessly, picking things up and putting them down as we talked. So it was a surprise to me to hear that he’s been recording.

“I may never release it but… Yeah,” He laughed, “Music. After all this time. Bet you didn’t know.”

He picks up a rare photo from the piano. It’s from the early days of Pretty Boy, before Billy Hargrove. Harrington has his arm around his bandmate, Eddie Munson. Their drummer Chrissy Cunningham is balanced precariously across their shoulders, laughing and cringing at the same time. Bassist Robin Buckley smirks from the corner of the frame, messy bangs in her eyes.

“Who knew, right?” He asked no one, shaking the frame a little.

There are no pictures of Billy Hargrove.

“That’s a… a long story,” He said, when I asked.

But I have time. I tell him Rolling Stone will pay for it. At least that makes him laugh.

It was just by chance that Pretty Boy’s last concert was filmed.

“We were meant to just film in Vegas,” The director, Argyle Molina-Zapata, sat down with me after a private screening of Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977, “But there was a freak rainstorm, and I couldn’t get my camera’s out of the back. The crowd was digging it, refused to leave. I remember when Billy hit the high note for ‘Mother Make Me,’ there was this lightning crack… brilliant.”

Molina-Zapata shook his head, “But the footage, what I got of it, was awful. Awful! So I begged Murray to let me come with them to Santa Fe.”

Murray was Murray Bauman, famed tour manager, who handled the Boys, later Pretty Boy from their first album Starfire, all the way to Kaleidoscope.

“And I was lucky,” Argyle nodded, “They had that extra tour bus.”

The tour busses are featured in the first few minutes of the film. They roll around the corner, one reading Billy Blue (Billy’s original stage name was Billy Blue before he dropped the Blue), and the other, Steve’s Six (Named after Steve’s best friends from his hometown.)

“They were nightmares,” Murray Bauman’s voice crackled over the phone, “Nightmares on tour. Separate buses. Separate hotels. Fuck me, I swear to god at one point they wanted separate stages. And the label caved on almost all of it. Fucking nightmare.”

It’s almost impossible to imagine it when you see them on stage together. There’s something electric that passed between Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington, something that drove crowds wild. They gravitate towards each other on the stage, orbiting like planets until they can share the same mic. They can’t seem to stay apart.

It’s hard to see exactly what happened that night.

“I’ve watched it a million times,” Argyle laughed, “But the only two people who can really say what happened are Billy and Steve.”

What you can see is this: Steve tearing into “Pride & Prejudice”, the lead off Kaleidoscope and the last song of the night.

Billy was trembling, visibly shaking as he sang and Steve harmonized along.

What can I say, if you ask me to walk away?

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Billy danced closer, joining Steve, his handheld mic loose at his side.

Can you ever put away your pride?

Is it worth it to not have me at your side?

I guess it must be, because I’m yours,

Regretfully,

Baby.

Billy leans in, sharing Steve’s mic for the bridge.

Is it really a mystery?

What I mean to you, and you mean to me?

Is it really, baby?

Billy shook his head, curls bouncing. He looked into Steve's eyes. He smiled. Steve looks at Billy, and Billy looks at him. It almost looks like Billy mouths something, but bootleg footage also has appeared where it looks like Billy just nodded. Steve goes a little shell shocked, hand freezing on his guitar, falling out of sync.

And then Steve turned away and left the stage, handing his guitar to a stagehand. Billy turned to the crowd, his expression strangely triumphant. He was always magnetic on stage, but this moment transcends that. It somehow feels like he’s getting everything he wants.

So I guess I’m losing you,

You promised me you would and it’s true.

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Steve Harrington hasn’t performed in public since 1977.

“None of us knew what was going to happen that night,” Chrissy Cunningham curled up next to her husband, Eddie Munson, on the large white couch of their Seattle home.

They’re a handsome couple still, draped in rock and roll finery. He toyed with the edge of her scarf, and she curled his long hair around her long fingers.

“We had some of our own shit going on at the time so…” Munson shrugged, “Maybe we were distracted.”

Their living room was crowded and verdant, every spare flat surface covered in plants. Their partner, former record executive Jason Carver, puttered in the kitchen in an apron that read Plant Papa.

“Yeah,” Chrissy smiled, “We had some stuff going on at the same time. But still… It seemed like they were getting better. Didn’t it seem like they were getting better?”

Munson shrugged, “The thing about Billy and Steve… they were soulmates. You don’t write music like that and not… it was like they had a second language, just for them. They were soulmates, I really believe that. Everything they did, everything that happened… they could only hurt each other that badly if… yeah.”

When I ask what they did to each other, Eddie and Chrissy just scooted closer together, like teenagers in a slasher, hiding from the killer. She laid a hand over his leg, her two stone diamond ring catching the sunlight.

“Steve never wanted Billy to be in the band,” Eddie shook his head, “but Jim had a soft spot for Billy. And Steve had… I mean Jim was…”

“Jim was like a father. To all of us.” Chrissy’s knee jiggled.

“We were this little tiny band from Nowhere, Indiana,” Eddie nodded, “And Jim believed in us.”

“I was just a junior exec at the time. I was put on the Kaleidoscope tour in case of catastrophic failure, which by the way it was,” Jason Carver is making risotto while we speak, the steam curling the lock of hair that falls over his face. “But it wasn’t my fault although I was high as hell on coke half the time. I guess I deserved to get fired. But Jim was the real deal. Gold records out the ass, best wife in the world, and his daughter, I mean… she was something else.”

They’re referring, of course, to Jim Hopper, producer on Kaleidoscope as well as Billy Blue and The Boys’ records, and the father of pop superstar Eleven aka Jane Hopper.

“Jim was…” Steve Harrington’s eyes always got a little misty talking about Jim, staring out over the ocean. “Yeah, I guess he was a little like my dad. My own parents were always gone. Which is like… I grew up so privileged so like I’m not saying… I just mean I grew up mostly by myself. And we were just so lucky he even agreed to listen to us when we got to LA.”

“I remember that night,” Joyce Hopper’s voice was raspy, cigarette-y in the way only old movie stars are. She’s a gorgeous woman in jeans and a gardening hat, speaking to me while she tends to her garden at her home in Castellammare. “He came home and said, ‘I have the next ones, the next big ones. Fuck, Joyce, they’re brilliant. Unpolished, but brilliant.’”

When I ask about when Jim discovered Billy Hargrove she just laughed.

“If Steve and the rest of The Boys were unpolished, Billy Hargrove was a fucking ten carat diamond,” She said. “But Steve’s band was Jim’s, and he could polish them up how he wanted. And then when he thought they were just right for it… he set the diamond.”

Jim Hopper was a big man, larger than life both in appearance and in personality. His fingerprints are all over some of the best hits of the decade.

Watching him on old interviews, there’s an immediacy to his presence that leaps off the screen.

“My daughter is the one who really found him. She snuck out with her sister and wandered God knows where. And she just… found him. Called me the next morning, saying ‘Dad, you have to hear this guy.’ He was playing in this… terrible club,” Jim said, tapping his cigar on the table of Merv Griffin’s set. “Absolute shithole, pardon my french. And he’s got a great voice, you’ve heard his voice, right?”

“I have,” Merv said.

“I had to get him out of there. He was a star.”

Billy Hargrove was a teenage runaway from San Diego when he came to LA in 1971.

“I had a girl’s backpack from my stepsister, eight dollars, and an extra pair of underwear. By the end of the next week? I had two more dollars,” Billy laughed. “But I got lucky. I met Heather.”

Heather Holloway was a showgirl at Wildwoods, a nightly revue. She found Billy at the backdoor, and took him to her apartment.

“She saved me,” He frowned. “Whenever I needed her most.”

Heather Holloway, Billy Hargrove’s first and only wife, died in 1979.

“I got a job singing at Sugar, this great gay club downtown. It was in the late afternoons, so I had a crowd of about… two. But those two brought two more,” Billy smiled, “Heather would talk me up to all the promoters. He’s a singer, he’s great, you’ll love him, he’s so cute.”

“He was an instant hit,” Sugar’s manager, Bob Newby, tells me by phone as well. “I did have to keep a couple of creeps off him, when he just started he was only nineteen. But even if you closed your eyes… he was a hit.”

“Guys used to think that because I was a part of the entertainment, I was fair game. And let me tell you, the novelty of that wears off mighty quick,” Billy shakes his head.

He shares a diary entry from his late wife of a night in April 1972. He came to her home with blood all over his face.

“Some guy thought because I was a fag…” Billy’s mouth twisted, but he went on, cradling the little marble notebook in his hand. “He could do whatever he wanted to me. When I fought back… he cracked a bottle over my head.”

He’s not just a piece of meat. He’s a person. I don’t understand these people. I just don’t understand, Heather Holloway wrote. I cleaned him up and he’s sleeping now.

The next diary entry is from a day later. April 12. Billy and I drove to Vegas and got married. When we spoke in the morning he said he was afraid for me too, even though I’m careful with the girls. He’s afraid of the cops trying to bust up the Wildwoods and picking me up. At least this way, he says. He and I can come home to each other. Look out for each other. Always. The groom wore band aids and his great velvet pants. The bride wore lavender. It was perfect.

“And lucky too. Because within a month… I met Jim,” Billy smiled. “And my whole life changed.”

Upside Down Records signed Billy Blue, unagented, in1972 and he spent the next year working on his debut album with Jim Hopper.

“I didn’t even realize, when it happened,” Billy shook his head. “A couple of girls came by after a show, wanting to talk to me, wanting to meet me. That wasn’t that unusual. But they were young, far too young to get into the club. And the little one, she was asking all these weird questions. Did I have an agent? Did I know if I had enough songs for an album? Weird fuckin’ questions. And then she said I have to meet someone. To be honest, I thought she was coked out of her mind when she said, ‘You have to meet my dad.’”

“I was not,” Eleven promised me, “coked out of my mind. But that’s just Billy.”

Eleven aka Jane Hopper, meets me backstage at one of her shows. She’s dressed in slouchy leather pants, to match her sister and drummer Kali Hopper.

“I knew he was something special. My dad was always talking about the IT factor. That thing that made a person something special. But I didn’t get it until I saw Billy Blue singing on that tiny stage,” She smiled. “He didn’t just have the IT factor. He was IT.”

It’s odd then, that Billy Blue’s first album had a surprisingly tepid response. His first single, in 1973, “Let Alone,” came in at only 26th for the month of April on the pop charts.

“People liked it,” Billy shrugs, “But I don’t think they knew what to do with it. You have my songs, these like… little pop love songs and ballads. I wasn’t that strong of a writer at the time. It was like half my songs, half covers. And so they’d book me, expecting fucking… Peter Frampton. And here comes this big queer with glitter on his nipples.”

But the lyrics of “Let Alone” would hint at his later songs, a hallmark simplicity that shone off his raw voice and poetry that hinted at a troubled past.

And if you were meant to care for me

You would, and that’s how it has to be

You said I couldn’t go on without you

Ha, look at me, looking brand new

At the same time, The Boys’ song “Paper Girl,” penned by Harrington, was number one.

She’s my paper girl

Wakes me up every morning, right on time

She got me smiling, got my head in a whirl

Picture perfect, paper girl

“Billy didn’t have much commercial appeal. Sex appeal, yes,” Jason laughed, toying with Chrissy’s hair. “But for sales? That’s where The Boys came in.”

“I hated that name,” Eddie said, “To start with we were half girls.”

The Boys had already had a somewhat successful tour under their belt by the time Jim suggested a collaboration with Billy Hargrove.

“It was a nice, short tour,” Steve Harrington glances away when I ask about the first tour.

“It was a nightmare. Balls to the wall nightmare,” Robin Buckley’s voice is a warm crackle over the phone. “Steve went on like thirty overlapping benders at once.”

Her partner, soap actress Vickie Carmichael cackles behind her, at their home in Salt Lake City.

“The thing about Steve is… well… he’s never found a good way of coping with himself,” Robin huffs. “Music was about as close as he ever got. But in those early days, he just kept looking for more and more.”

“You don’t think it was about-” Vickie asked, just barely into the phone.

“No.”

“It was about Nancy,” Eddie said confidently when I mentioned their first tour. “Nancy, Nancy, Nancy.”

The Boys got their start in the late sixties, beginning with Eddie and Steve. Eddie gave Steve guitar lessons, which turned into some talent show performances. They used to practice at Eddie’s Uncle’s trailer.

“That’s where we got the name,” Eddie nodded, “My uncle used to just call us that, and it stuck.”

“I don’t even remember,” Chrissy said.

“That’s not how we got the name,” Steve shook his head, when I mention Eddie. “It was our first gig, after we got Chrissy and Robin. Robin put it down after the headliner kept asking when ‘you boys’ would go on, and kept addressing it to Chrissy’s chest. She blew him out of the fucking water.”

Nancy Wheeler was there that night, writing about local bands for a tiny column in the school paper.

“She was beautiful. Smart. So smart. Could hear her talk forever,” Steve said, eyes falling.

Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were married in 1972 after they graduated high school.

“Steve made his own choices,” Chrissy shook her head.

That summer, the Boys plus one drove to LA and Nancy Wheeler took a job at Women’s Day Magazine and later, Rolling Stone. Steve Harrington and The Boys got a “steady gig” at La Bonita Rosa on the strip, playing for drunks every night from seven to eight.

“I really liked playing at La Bonita,” Steve said. “The audience, right there. You could smell the sweat. You could see on their faces if you were bombing. And we used to bomb. A lot. But it was a great place to try things. Experiment. We played there for about a year but… it felt too short.”

Within the year they had met Jim Hopper, who got them into the recording studio and sold their demo nearly on the spot to Upside Down Records.

“They had a great sound. They had got this way of playing. Smooth like a polished stone. Everything sounds good sitting in a frame like that,” Jim said in an interview with Rolling Stone in 1981. “Their songs were… catchy, but basic. But they had the sound.”

Upside Down records set the Boys on a US tour after “Paper Girl,” and “Joy to Love You,” both charted.

“It was like… overnight. One day we’re in a studio, messing around. Kid stuff. I was nineteen,” Steve Harrington shookhis head. “But…”

“That tour,” Chrissy trails off, playing with her ring again.

“I…” Steve Harrington scratched his nose. “I was losing it. Majorly losing it. It felt like we had just moved to LA and we were already neck deep. I mean, I had a number one fucking song. And for some reason I got it in my head to call my mom. She told the maid she wasn’t home. And I could hear her over the phone. My mom. So yeah. I lost it. Lost about half my damn mind on that tour. And people will say it was because of Nancy, because we got married just out of high school, and she wasn’t supportive… but that wasn’t true. Nancy saved me.”

“Nancy never wanted him to be in the band. But… she also didn’t seem to care that much either,” Eddie shook his head, “It’s… complicated. Love is supposed to be. Simple. Like the chords of a song. 1-3-5.”

Jason Carver rolled his eyes at that, “Then what are we?”

Eddie grinned, “We’re a band.”

Nancy Wheeler met me on a Thursday in New York City, slim sunglasses dominating her small porcelain face. We get lunch at her favorite deli shop, and she perches at the counter, loafers dangling. She’s an editor at The New Yorker now, but she still has a soft spot for rock and roll, as evidenced by the Grateful Dead t-shirt under her blazer.

“That tour. I didn’t even know anything was wrong. He just came home with a funny look on his face, saying, ‘We’re headlining.’ So I said, ‘That’s great, Steve.’ He just kept… saying it. It was starting to piss me off, if I’m being honest,” She shook her head. “I should have known something was wrong.”

“I wish she had stopped me. But how could you know right? Hindsight is always 2020,” Steve Harrington said. “I mean, she was my wife. How could she not want me home? But that’s just… sorry. That’s not fair to put on her. I chose to go.”

“I flew out to meet them when they were in Indianapolis, visited my family, and I came a day early to see him,” She smiled warmly, and then it fell. “He was… Well, first, Eddie Munson tried to intercept me at the hotel, so I wouldn’t see him. I told him, ‘I’m here to see my fucking husband.’”

Steve Harrington didn’t add any more details about the tour, just shrugged when I asked.

“He was coked up like you wouldn’t believe,” Robin scoffed. “She walked in on him with two girls and coke all over his… well.”

“I just asked him. Do you want to come home? Do you want to get help? Or not?” She purses her lips. “And so he came home and we found a rehab place near Hawkins.”

“The tour kind of… fell apart. Obviously. We had lost our lead singer and guitarist to fucking… Hawkins, Indiana,”

Everything stopped for the Boys. Upside Down offered to let them out of their two album contract, but Steve couldn’t afford to pay it down.

“Rehab,” He shrugged. “Is expensive.”

Right as it seemed that everything would be over for the Boys, things were looking up for Billy Blue.

“Jim was always saying, ‘the record is selling alright, the songs are getting there but he needs a… push,’” Joyce said. “‘He’s so close. So close. He’s a star.’”

“He always believed in me,” Billy smiled, toying with his ring again. “Always. Even when I threw a jug of milk at his head.”

Joyce laughed when I asked about that moment, “He came home saying, ‘He milked me, Joyce. But he’ll fix the song tonight.’”

“And I did,” Billy said. “And the album was going alright. I did a little tour, socal and the southwest. And then one night, Jim brings me this song. He said, ‘I want you to tell me what’s missing from this.’”

The song was, of course, the Boys’ biggest hit, “Hades.” Steve Harrington’s first version was called, “To Orpheus” and the chorus goes:

Don’t turn back don’t look behind you baby

I’m close, I’m right behind

The future's so bright, and I want you to take me

Wanna be holding your hand when I make it across the line.

“It was fine, but just kind of… nothing. It was supposed to be about Eurydice, but it was so… nothing. She just loved Orpheus and that was it. There were no insides to her. She was going to follow him to her doom,” Billy shook his head. “That’s not right.”

This was not the version that made it to the recording booth, of course. The Boys’ single, “Hades featuring Billy Blue,” came out in 1975. The actual chorus goes:

Turn back on me and I won’t forgive you baby

Don’t want you to see me like this

Up ahead is bright, and I want you to take me

If you’re strong enough to cross that finish line

“‘Hades,’ was a real step forward for the Boys. Gone were the teenybopper tunes,” Steve Harrington’s biographer and personal friend Dustin Henderson wrote in his book The Pretty Boy. “Their first album got the kids dancing. But the second proved that they actually had something to say.”

“Still hate it,” Steve Harrington said. “I wrote that song in rehab. It was deeply, deeply personal to me.”

“He came out, all ready. He wanted to start recording right away,” Robin sighed. “Like I mean the next day. All these songs, just pouring out of him. But the label had lost faith in us. And they certainly weren’t going to let us start recording with a guy who had only just earned his thirty day sober chip.”

“The song wasn’t ready,” Billy shook his head. “But I guess he was. Jim said he needed this. So Jim asked if I would come and like… pitch some stuff as a personal favor. Songwriting credit, that’s all it was supposed to be. Get the songs moving, get them going.”

Steve Harrington takes a long time to continue speaking about it.

“I felt it, writing for that album. I felt proud of those songs. They didn’t belong to anyone else but me,” He toyed with some piano keys while we talked, and then finally sat down and began to play something tuneless and half formed.

“That album was all about Nancy,” Chrissy said. “I mean. I know it. You know it. Nancy knew it. And she kind of hated it. But-”

“You can’t leave your husband right as he gets out of rehab,” Nancy said to me, toying with her wedding ring. “When he writes all these songs about how you’re the only thing… Steve was always like that. Heart wide open. That’s why when he met Billy. I almost thought… it would all be okay. That sounds fucked up but. I thought they could save each other. That the music could save him.”

“It was just a songwriting credit,” Billy raised his hands. “Jim swore up and down. I was just gonna come in there and sit down with this guy Steve. But when I walk into the studio, there’s two mics set up.”

“I was the Boys’ only singer,” Steve Harrington shook his head. “And to be absolutely honest, I was kind of a jackass about it. So to have some guy come in and say he’s gonna sing me my song… well…”

“Steve was the only one who would ever argue with Jim, And he let him have it that day,” Eddie laughed. “He called him the most low down, dirty, rat bitten bastard in California, and that he would die rather than give up his band to someone else.”

“I did not want his band. I did not know his band. And I did not care. And his song sucked. And I told him so. And then I sang it. Better.” Billy smiled.

“Billy was…” Chrissy shook her head. “Incredible.”

I ask Steve what Billy was like that first day in the studio.

“He was,” Something passed over his face. “Alright. He has a great voice, alright.”

“I was good. Better. Best.” Billy smiled.

“But he didn’t understand the song. He wanted Eurydice to… doubt. To think she wasn’t going to get out,” Steve slammed his hands on the keys. “It’s been… almost twenty years. I still don’t understand it.”

I asked why he let Billy stay. But Steve doesn’t have an answer.

“They were like oil and water, right away,” Chrissy said.

“Yeah, but oil on the water can catch fire,” Eddie shrugged.

“Jim asked me to stay,” Billy looked away from me, down at his waffles. “It was a favor to the label.”

“If Billy said louder, Steve said mute,” Robin snickered. “It was kind of great, actually. Finally someone called King Steve on his shit. One day I came in and they were arguing over how close the microphone should be to your throat. Almost got in a physical fight over a fucking microphone. I mean, I love Steve. But he always thinks he’s like… the babysitter. It’s his job to do everything for everybody.”

“Like who was this guy? Really? He came into my studio with no shirt on, most of the time still half smashed from the night before, and he thinks he can make all these changes. But Jim keeps telling me it’s just business, the label thinks it’s good business.” Steve frowned, and then smiled, and then frowned again.

“Yeah, I never wore shirts back then. Or underwear,” Billy said with a grin. “I was a rockstar!”

“Steve fought for every song on that album,” Nancy Wheeler patted her lips primly with a napkin. “He only lost on one.”

“Billy Hargove has songwriting credit and lead vocals on “Hades.” Dustin Henderson wrote.

“Billy was all over that album. He’d make some minor suggestion, maybe this chord instead of that, this word is better. And Steve would flip out, yell at him, yell at Jim, threaten to storm out… and then two days later quietly tell me to change the chord, he’d start singing the new words. Billy was there with us about every single day,” Eddie said.

“Of course, it was our biggest hit,” Chrissy laughed. “Everything but that song, Steve did what he wanted. Oh we had Billy in the studio, making suggestions. But Steve did what he wanted except for ‘Hades.’ Jim said that song is the album, and he wouldn’t cut it.”

“Jim was always right,” Steve closed the piano. “The bastard.”

Hades exploded onto the radio in late 1975. They didn’t have the same distribution as their first record, but the Boys had another hit.

“Billy had this way of singing it. Still does. He broke four mics when we recorded it. Singing so loud I had to keep an eye on the cymbals to stop them from shaking. You can feel him, right in your chest.” Chrissy giggled. “Like he was trying to wake all the dead from Hades. If anyone could, he could.”

“It’s a really, really great song,” Robin said.

This song belongs to Billy Blue, Rolling Stone wrote in 1976. The only question now is, what will The Boys do next?

“I remember that article. Fucking… Harrington said that he basically wrote the whole song. But he said, ‘the label thought bringing Billy in was a good idea,’” Billy gets tense for the first time. “I’m not saying I was like… I just mean. It would have been nice. To treat me like an equal. I’m more than just a singer. I’m not just… a piece of meat.”

“Billy was really pissed about that article. I remember, the day after the article came out, we were getting breakfast at this tiny place off La Cienega. Steve had this car back then, a big maroon BMW, and Eddie had got him a vanity plate when he bought it. Stupid thing it said, ‘BIGBOY.’ Anyway, We’re having breakfast, and we hear this screech outside, like an accident,” Robin Buckley gets uncharacteristically quiet as she goes on through this story. “Billy’s car is parked halfway out of the parking lot, and he comes in like a bull in a charge. Billy… he wasn’t some wimpy guy. He was small, but he was strong as hell… He came right over and grabbed Steve by his collar and lifted him right off the counter. And he said, I’ll never forget it because Steve used to recite it from memory, yell it at me, ‘Tell me I’m not dreaming. Is that Steve fucking Harrington? The lead singer of the Boys. Hey man, I love your song ‘Hades.’ How’d you get your voice to sound halfway decent for once?’”

“I don’t remember that,” Steve Harrington said flatly when I asked.

“And Steve used to be a fucking dick in high school. So he starts getting real bitchy, shoving Billy off him, asking what his problem is, why he’s such a dick all the fucking time, when it’s not even his band. And Billy said something like, ‘No one wants your shit band. Not with you in it,’” Robin paused for a moment. “And they just. Stare at each other. Like… daring each other to do something.”

Billy just shrugs when I ask, “I was pissed. I gave this guy a number one hit, and he still wanted to treat me like some… airhead singer the label brought in as a stunt. I’m not just a singer. I’m not a piece of meat. I’m a person.”

When I ask Steve about that day he’s pretty quiet, deflated at his piano. He only wants to talk about the song. The music. Can’t seem to talk about Billy any other way.

“He sang it like he not only knows Orpheus can’t save him, but that he won’t. It was supposed to be hopeful. A happy ending.” Steve said.

“So you still hate the song?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. It’s brilliant. And that’s the whole problem.”

To be continued...

Next up is Half-Oz-Eddie's piece at 7:00 pm. GET HYPE!

#harringrove relay race #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #steve x billy #harringrovefic #harringrovefanfic #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove fanfic #stranger things #my writing #DJATS au #Daisy jones and the six au #tw drugs

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sweetiecutie · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Loki Odinson x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, size kink (I mean, this man is literally 6’4🙄), tummy bulge, bit of overstim, cumplay if you squint

A/n: sorry for being inactive bubs, my sister got in a bad fight w/ her boyfriend and he left the country and took all their shared money savings with him, refusing to pick up his phone, and it was pretty fun to watch. Hope you enjoy this writing💖

Loki was stressed and tired. Tired of always having to maintain the image of calmness and prudence suitable for a member of a royal family. Of his father always underestimating him, instead preferring the older of his two sons. Of said older son aka his brother Thor, overly confident in himself and his abilities which always leaded to him getting into big troubles, at the same time throwing tantrums at every smallest inconvenience

All he needed was some stress relief and you happened to be more than willing to help him out. That’s how you ended up huddled on his huge bed, body rocking with every brutal thrust of his hips, dick plunged deeply inside of your quivering heat, writhing orgasm after orgasm from your shuddering body

You’re laying on your back with Loki settled comfortably in between your opened wide legs, strong hands firmly pinning you down to the mattress, keeping you in one place. Your skin is shiny with sweat, you can feel Loki’s cum drying on your thighs and chest, bringing a slight shriveling feeling but you couldn’t care less. You run your fingers up his sides lovingly, caressing his soft skin with light touches. Your hands come up to man’s shoulders, resting there, digits play with his silky black hair

- Keep your hands up, - Loki rasps breathily in between deep thrusts, forcing his huge cock inside your squelching pussy, slipping out until only the tip is left inside and then slamming his whole length back in. His grip on your hips is firm, long pale fingers dig into the plushy skin, surely leaving dark marks in their wake

- But I wanna touch you, - you whine weakly, lips jutting out into a little pout as you look pleadingly at your lover

Ferocious rutting of Loki’s hips comes to a halt; tall man crouches over, his face is hovering right above yours intimidatingly, noses almost touching as his dark obsidian eyes glare into yours coldly, his long silky hair frames his thin features, stray locks fall down onto your cheeks and neck, tickling sensitive skin there

- I said keep your hands up, - Loki says quietly, putting heavy emphasis on each word. His voice is low and husky, sternness of his tone almost makes you shrink as long-haired man keeps staring down at you admonishingly, daring you to defy his order

You swallow heavily, doing as you’re being told, putting your hands off your lover’s broad shoulders, obediently resting them on a mattress right above your head. Loki hums in approval, resuming the jutting of his hips, plunging his dick in and out of the snug sheath of your cunny. Delicious drag of his throbbing shaft against your velvety walls makes your back arch up in pleasure, eyes flutter closed at the strong sensation

- Good girl, - black-haired murmurs sweetly, thin lips curl into a mischievous smirk and the quick change of his demeanor makes you mind go fizzy, the bottom of your stomach tingles slightly at the praise

He hooks his hands under your bent knees, yanking you towards himself what causes his dick to nudge deeper into your sopping cunt; thick cockhead hits your cervix just right, stretching you out to your limit. You let out a wail of pleasure, eyes rolling back into your skull

- Fuck, doll, just look at that. You’re so small, barely fit me in. I can see my cock moving inside that pretty pussy of yours, - Loki murmurs softly, airy chuckle leaves his throat. His right hand lets go of your hip, resting on your belly instead, slim fingers trail abstruse patterns on the silky skin, causing goosebumps to break out

You rise your head a little, peering down at where your bodies connect and you finally understand what he is talking about. On your lower stomach, right beneath your navel, there is a distinguishable swelling forming every time Loki ferociously slams his cock in your drooling pussy, his fingers tracing the outline of his dick in your tummy. He notices your intense gaze and buries himself inside you to the hilt, stilling his thrusts and staying motionlessly, allowing you to have a better look at what is going on

You mewl thickly when Loki presses his thumb especially hard against the bulge, your head falls back onto the plushy mattresses and man resumes his movements, slanting his hips into yours deliciously, balls hitting your ass with loud smacking sounds that rock the air of the chambers along with your breathy moans and cries of pleasure

You feel your orgasm quickly approaching as Loki’s dick drags along every sweet spot inside of your pulsing walls; the hand that was previously massaging your tummy slides a bit lower, deft fingers rub and toy with your swollen clit, making you thrash in heavy pleasure underneath himself. You grip on the sheets above your head, still not daring to move your hands from their position, thighs wrap around man’s lean torso, seeking some kind of support

Your stomach tightens as you get nearer and nearer to your release and finally, the dam within you breaks, flooding your whole being with a mind-blowing pleasure. It feels like pure electricity surges through your body and your tired muscles shudder violently, making Loki guffaw in excitement, planting light smack to your left thigh

The sight of you falling apart on his dick along with the hectic clutching of your walls pushes Loki closer to the edge; he keeps pummeling your squelching hole, chasing his own release, overstimulating your sensitive body with wide meaty thrusts, making you tremble underneath his bulky form. He pulls out, finishing himself in a few final strokes, releasing his perky cum all over your pubic and quivering pussy with a low groan

Loki swipes the head of his cock over your puffy glistening folds, smearing and smudging his cum all over them, making you jolt harshly at the contact with the overly sensitive nub of your clit, mean chuckle tumbles through his chest at your pathetic cry, your thighs tremble uncontrollably on each side of his body

He leans down, connecting his lips with yours in a lazy wet kiss, tongue slipping in your mouth easily, tangling with yours in a messy dance. You finally decide to move your hands from their position, resting them on top of Loki’s nape, drawing him in even closer to which he happily complies, almost laying on top of you

He breaks your kiss, a shiny string of your shared saliva connecting your lips. Your body sores from multiple rounds of sex and Loki runs his warm hands down your sides, resting them on the concavity of your waist, fingers softly rub your skin there. Black-haired peers into your eyes lovingly, mischievous smile tugs the corners of his lips upwards and he rasps breathily agains your lips, his words bring blush to your face:

- C’mon sweets, one more time. I know you can give it to me🤍

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, they inspire me on creating even more content for you💖

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for-fucks-sake-h · 2 years

Text

TIFF Promise

Part two of the group project @oh-honey-styles started with this blurb. Check out part three by @andwhenshesays!

The green silk flower was a wilted mess laying on the floor of the entryway — ironically mimicking yourself where Harry pressed his hips into yours against the nearby wall.

The moment you both were alone, he was on you. His hand easily found its home on your thigh for the car ride home, pretty fingers caressing your skin in a tempting draw, knowingly and effectively putting you in a trance of eager need.

You barely made it through the door before he was grabbing you, pulling you in tight and slanting his mouth over yours in a desperate kiss. Practically ripping his jacket from his strong shoulders, the flower caught your eye on the floor as his mouth made its way down your neck.

“You… are evil.” His voice sent a chill down your spine, his tongue soothing the insult as he found your mouth once more.

You hummed against his soft lips, almost in agreeance, as your hand found his swollen length to rub him through his trousers. The softest of moans slipped past his lips, and you withheld your smile as you pressed kisses against his jaw, knowing the sounds you would soon be pulling from that gorgeous mouth.

He watched as you undid his pants, as you pushed them down his thighs, and as you teased your finger across the line of his underwear. His hand gripped the side of your neck roughly to pull your mouth back to his, tasting his moan and panting breaths as he pressed his hardness against you.

When you broke free from his insistent kisses, he begrudgingly let you, his chest heaving as your mouth trailed down the column of his throat, stopping to suck a kiss at his collar bone, the center of his chest, his left pec, his right, lower and lower until you were kneeling in front of him with the black tank top pushed up and out of your way. The planes of his stomach quivered under your touch, the lines of his groin too good to pass up getting your mouth on, and thighs waiting to be bitten beneath the tight confines of his boxer briefs.

He was perfect, and it took everything inside you not to suck him into your mouth right then. But there was a part of you that wanted to savor it — this space you were in with him, just the two of you, after being pulled in so many different directions.

Harry's fingers lovingly found their way into your hair, the feeling getting a soft hum from you as you teased his underwear down his thighs until they dropped to the floor. The top of his back was the only thing touching the wall as he waited with his hips poised in front of you, not daring to move.

You kissed each thigh slowly, softly, before moving to the creases where they met his groin, and the top of his pelvis, and the soft smattering of hair below his belly button — basically everywhere but where you knew he wanted you most.

His composure was decent enough compared to how hard he was, but every sound he made gave him away. The soft hisses, the heavy breathing. Fuck, you could even hear him swallow. The more you drove him crazy, the more turned on you got. It was an addicting torment that you couldn’t possibly get enough of.

“Give me the lick you promised me, love.” His voice was so rough, tone so desperate, that you had to look up at him, just to see that need written all over his face, buried between the furrow of his brows and swimming in his pleading eyes.

And so you obliged, keeping your eyes on him as his mouth fell open around a breathy moan, his head tilting back slowly as your tongue slid up the warm expanse of his length, until you could gently suck his tip into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His head fell back down to look at you, mouth hanging open as his hands framed your face, watching as your tongue swirled around him and a moan pushed past his lips.

“Again,” he murmured, a plea and a command, all in one.

You were soaked seeing him like that, so fucking needy for you as you licked him from base to tip again, his fingers flexing in your hair. One of your hands held his length steady while your other gripped tight fingers into his thigh, nails digging into the thick muscle there.

One final lick up the entirety of his length had you sucking his tip into your mouth, more and more, until he was brushing the back of your throat and he was gasping around the feeling.

“Mhm, that’s it,” he encouraged softly, moan after moan gracing your ears as you bobbed up and down on him, over and over and over. “Fuck, love. Don’t stop.”

And you wouldn’t – not until you had him coming down your throat, gasping for air and moaning through his release, just as you promised.

***

Look at us, can you believe it lol. Thank you to my girls @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays for all the encouragement no matter how long I go without writing or how many times I say how bleak things feel. And thank you to YOU for continuing to read my smutty nonsense, I appreciate it more than you know. Now we just need to bully Kate into doing part three 🥰

masterlist || ask

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #group project #mine

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g-xix · 4 months

Text

Scrambled Egg. Deji x reader x JJ x Simon [platonic]

IDEA: coming home from school w them and the parents aren't there, so you all try cook something. Too bad Deji and JJ try help. Inspired by Deji and JJ'sscrambled eggs in thesidemenSunday.

---

"We okay to come 'round to yours, JJ?" Simon turned his head to meet JJ's as he carefully placed his pencil case in his bag. The fabric besides the zipper had a small hole in it and Simon had been treating his bag with the uptmost care recently. JJ didn't seem to care as much, however, as he shoved his chemistry folder into his bag which donned a grand rip in the side.

"Oh yeah, as long as you just don't mind Dej." JJ shrugged, making you and Simon laugh as you all shut your lockers, jamming your lock on the turner and fiddling the code around.

You slung your bag around your shoulder, helping Simon pack his sports kit to hurry him up so that you could get back to JJ's to rush through your homeworks together and then take it in turns to play on JJ's laptop.

Stepping outside, the Winter air was frosty and made you zip your jacket up with a shiver. Noticing your shiver, Simon offered his gloves whilst Deji (who had joined before you'd left the building) plopped his beanie on your head- JJ making the group stop before you walked any further, so that he could properly put the woolly hat on- pushing it down the back of your head and over your ears as well- delivering a good headpat before continuing onwards.

It was a great relief when you all arrived back at JJ's, all letting out contented sighs as JJ opened the front door with a click of the keys and a pushing of the handle- though those greatful expressions were wiped clear off of your faces almsot instantaneously as the bitterly cold air rushed upon you as you stepped in- almost colder than the Wintery air outside.

It had turned dark by the time you'd all walked home to JJ's, and thus it was a struggle for you to trace your fingers across the walls and try find a light switch, having been the first to take your shoes off at the door.

"Here we go," JJ muttered after a moment, flicking the wall before they were painted within the warm white light of an overhead bulb, illuminating the many framed photos of JJ and Deji as children with their parents who all smiled oh so lovingly at a camera.

No matter how many time you'd return to JJ's house, seeing that photo wall would never not bring a stupidly soppy smile to your face.

"He looks like he's just sneezed there," Simon snickered and pointed out one where JJ's eyes were barely open- nose scrunched and face unattractively wide, almost in a perfect o-shape.

"He looks like he's just sat on Dej there-"

"Oh wait-"

"He did." You and Simon chorused and pointed to the picture before which indeed displayed a very pleased JJ sat on a crying, barely-toddler Deji.

"Oh piss off you two," JJ rolled his eyes but couldn't resist the infection grin from growing on his lips also letting out a laugh alongside all of you.

"Oi, JJ, Mummy and Daddy have gone out!" Deji exclaimed from the kitchen, his face popping out from behind the living room door with a chocolate-yoghurt drink to hand, and white ring around his lips.

JJ sighed at the sight of his younger brother. "Bloody hell, I've told you Dej, those chocolate snacks are useless for you- just... Just let me make something... Bloody Hell, I don't know why Mum gets those snacks anyways- they're stupid overpriced!" JJ kept complaining to himself/Deji (it was unsure who he was lecturing) as he walked past Deji and into the kitchen, turning the lights on and opening the fridge which could be heard as the vacuum was broken.

"Dej, are you allowed to cook when your parents aren't at home?" You furrowed your brows and asked the younger of the two siblings. You weren't familiar with whether either of these boys were any talented with a pan and spatula but you had heard a certain whisper of Deji accidentally burning his hand within the first food tech lesson in senior school and him being withdrawn from that class. Permanently.

Deji shrugged in response. "We've never asked."

"Can either of you even cook?" Simon was next to ask, causing Deji to chortle as he shrugged again, smile passing on to Simon as he heard JJ let out a louder shout at himself in the kitchen. "Shall we help him?"

"Well, I don't fancy helping him but it'd be fun to see what's happening over there."

The three of you trooped through the living room and to the kitchen behind, finding JJ with his hands on his head, a look of great stress creased across his face as he shook his head gaze plastered to the floor.

An egg had been dropped over the faux wooden and was slowly trickling further and further out of its shell.

"Mum's gonna be PISSED, you've wasted an egg!" Deji cackled, breaking JJ's trance.

JJ groaned and put his head in his hands, his frustration only making Deji laugh even more raucously- triggering JJ to launch an attack- lurching forwards, hands out as if trying to grab Deji, and subsequently planting his foot straight into the gloopy mess before taking his other leg off the floor with such momentum that he whizzed backwards and landed flat on his back, thumping against the floor and flicking egg-gloop up and onto Deji (who let out a scream) whilst yourself and Simon dodged to avoid JJ who sprawled across the floor with a loud shout.

You couldn't help but bite down on your cheek, resisting the urge to smile whilst JJ's back arched off the floor with a loud cry, Deji shouting about the albumen that'd slung onto his nose.

"You reckon we should help yet?" You turned to ask Simon, the sight of the wide grin on his face tugging the corners of your mouth up also.

"Not yet, I wanna see just who's gonna win this..." Simon watched and you could only nod in agreement... Until you saw Deji reach for an egg of his own.

At that point, you knew that someone had to step in to prevent world war three from starting for another few years.

"DROP THE EGG, DEJI-" You held Deji back from JJ with a hand whilst JJ simply scowled from the floor.

You lived to regret your words however, as Deji took what you said far too literally and loosened his grip over the egg- letting it drop to the floor with a CRACK.

"DEJI" The other three of you exclaimed whilst Deji just looked from one to the other with a look of surprise in his face, as though he were unbelieving that he was the one being targeted.

"Look," Simon decided to step in, only seeing the situation worsening by the second. "We'll clean this mess up, Dej and JJ, you two clean yourselves up, and then we'll try make something."

JJ looked begrudging to the idea of admitting defeat to his idea of cooking something for Deji, but had to shake his head and shrug, saying a reluctant "Okay then", and letting yourself and Simon look at the mess.

It only took about 5 minutes to actually clean the two eggs up, and Deji and JJ had joined you after another minute.

"What can we make?" JJ asked eventually, looking to you for help along with Deji and Simon. After all, you were the only one who took food tech GCSE and was actually good at it.

"I suppose.... Brownies aren't too hard...?"

Well, turned out they were for the Olatunji brothers.

Deji had some strange obsession with cracking eggs, but he couldn't do it very well- and in the end you ended up with a mixture containing four too many eggs, and crunch texture (egg shells. Of course.)

"Deji, we physically cannot cook this. This just can't go into the oven."

"Can we just see what it makes?" Deji furrowed his brows and pleaded.

"Dej, you got banned from food tech and she's doin it for GCSE- if Y/n says that's not going into the oven then that's not going in." Bless JJ for reinforcing your words and plucking the tray from Deji's hands. You noted how the mixture had a strange goopy jiggle to it as JJ dropped it onto the opposite counter.

RING RING RING!

JJ jumped at the sound of the landline phone ringing, rushing to grab the phone and press it to his ear.

Deji, Simon and yourself all watched with interest as he spoke a few words before placing the phone back into the holder and turning around with a horrified expression.

"Mum's fifteen minutes away..." He near-whispered.

Deji's eyes widened as he let out a gasp, Simon and yourself wondering what was so perilous at the news.

"Oh she's gonna be pissed that we've wasted all the eggs and made absolutely fuckall..." JJ's hands found his head, sitting on either side of his face helplessly. You couldn't help but feel pity for the fact him and Deji were so inexplicably futile.

However, after a quiet moment of mourning, JJ picked himself up and clapped his hands, springing into action and a "RIGHT," picking up utensils and tidying the general area.

"We cannot let Mum see the mess we've created, so Deji- you wipe up all the mess on the counter, Simon, could you please wash up the utensils with me?" The two boys nodded in agreement before JJ turned to you with wide brown eyes. "Any other ideas, Y/n?"

"I'm gonna work on getting all the ingredient out of your stove- otherwise when Mrs Olatunji tries to cook she'll set off the fire alarm by burning all that flour."

"Good thinking- thank you- so much," JJ's words almost made you feel sorry for him, and you reached over to collect him in a small hug, squeezing his side and rubbing up and down his arm comfortingly before patting and letting him go. "Don't you worry, JJ, it's been fun enough seeing you mess up as is."

With an eye roll and smile from JJ, you all rushed to do your own bits- scrubbing the spoons, scraping the counters, wiping the stove with a mini-cloth... You were all working at top speeds until Deji looked out the window and yelled-

"MUM AND DAD ARE PULLING IN!"

Thank God you'd finished your cooking, just as JJ gasped and turned around, realising-

"What excuse do we use for the eggs?!"

Everyone went silent in thought including yourself.

JJ looked as though he could've pulled his hair out at that moment, until you had a brain-wave.

"DEJI, get me the last three eggs!"

Deji pulled the last three out and gave them to you so quickly you almost dropped them- meaning that JJ had to cup his hands under yours just to stabilise you and prevent (another) accident from happening. You could feel an almost dangerous warmth radiating from JJ's hands, his anxiety making his whole body heat up. Your hand found his arm, gently pressing in a comforting way your mum used to do to tell you it'll be fine, flashing a sweet smile before getting back to your cooking.

"JJ, Deji, watch-"

You cracked each of the three eggs into a bowl without getting the shell in, whipping it up with a fork whilst Deji and JJ watched over either shoulder. Simon seemed to know what you were doing as he grabbed some salt and pepper and began shaking it into the mixture as you whisked.

"Right, this is the quickest and easiest shit you can make with eggs-" You dashed some oil into a pan Simon had placed over the stove- igniting the gas and pouring the mixture from the bowl to the heating surface as Simon called "They're taking shopping out of the boot!"

"Stall them!" Run out and ask whether they need a hand with getting it all in!" JJ leaned away from your ear to yell at Simon, which Simon duly noted and scurried outside, as indicated by the door shutting and opening.

Meanwhile you kept the boys captivated as Deji handed you a spatula and let you scrape the mixture from the bottom of the pan, forming soft clumps of scrambled egg.

"Chilli peppers?" JJ asked, leaning past you to grab the seasoning from the top shelf.

"Be my guest." You allowed him to sprinkle a few on, still displacing the eggs with the rubbed spatula to keep the eggs forming.

"Hurry up!" Deji hissed nervously as he heard Simon's loud voice and the Dad's voice approaching closer and closer to the front door.

"I can't physically go any quicker! It's bloody cooking, Deji!"

"Yeah, shut up Dej!" JJ reinforced your slightly panicked words, though a bit harshly.

"Sorry Dej, you know we love you..."

"God, I feel like I'm with parents right now..." Deji grumbled, making you roll your eyes as you looked to the left and caught the embarrassed look on JJ's face as well as his darkened cheeks. Cutie.

The sound of the door opening at the front and Yinka's voice calling through the house: "JJ? Deji? We're home!" Was enough to make all three of you jump, however.

"Plate!" You hissed at the two behind you as they panicked to help you.

Simon was no less scared than all three of you- all too knowing what the Olatunji parents looked like when they were angry- and did his best to stall them even in the hallway as they took their shoes off. Not only could Simon feel his arms shaking from the weight of the plastic shopping bags (he'd been given the bag with three heavy milk bottles in it) but also his fingers tremoring in fear of what Yinka and Olajide Snr would see when they walked into the kitchen.

Yet there was only so much which Simon could do as Yinka walked on past him and followed the corridor into the kitchen, Simon rushing his shoes off to trail nervously behind and look over her shoulder as when he walked into the living room, holding his breath as he saw...

JJ, Deji and yourself stood- hands all clasped behind your besides at the table...

On which sat a plate of scrambled egg.

"What's this?!" Yinka exclaimed in surprise.

A porcelain white plate was presented with a raw, untoasted slice of bread beneath yellow curds of egg. The scrambled egg itself looked wonderful: seasoned; sprinkled with paprika and chilli flakes and soft and steaming, clearly fresh from the pan... The sight of all three students stood behind it like army cadets with backs straight and arms behind their backs was a sight to behold though.

Simon wished he had a camera to take a picture of them with. He'd take a picture and frame it so it could be pinned up on the wall besides the stairs alongside all the other pictures of the Olatunji siblings.

"Scrambled eggs!" Deji happily introduced, a great happy smile on his face.

"You cooked without us home?" Their dad entered now, scanning the living room as if looking for a fire or some sort of kitchen disaster. Too bad you'd cleaned the latter before he could've seen it.

"Oh I'm so sorry, Mr Olatunji, Mrs Olatunji, that's my fault," You took credit. You knew Yinka had a slight soft spot for you, and hoped that she would be kinder to you if you took the blame. "We were just all quite hungry and afterwards, JJ and Deji really wanted to make something for yourselves also... I think they said they wanted to surprise you for when you came back..."

You internally fistpumped as Yinka's face broke out into a prideful smile at her sons.

"Did they really?" She was practically beaming with pride. "Oh that is too sweet- I'll tell you what- I'll just go put these into these bits I've bought into the cupboard then have it- thank you very much Y/n...

"What about us?!" Deji exclaimed. JJ elbowed him in the ribs for speaking out of turn.

"Yes, thank you to you and JJ as well," She pressed a kiss to either head as she walked past them and towards the cupboard.

Simon spotted a pan that was still out besides the counter, just behind Yinka. His eyes widened as he squinted his eyes and realised that pan was filled with gloopy, crunchy brownie mixture.

"Dej!" Simon hissed quietly enough for it to go unnoticed by Y/n and JJ (who were exchanging victorious little grins and fistbumps whenever Yinka and Olajide looked away, also helping to put the shopping away). As Simon caught Deji's attention, Simon jerked his head at the pan allowing Deji to spot the mixture and widen his own eyes- rushing towards the metal pan and hiding it as any reasonable person would, by...

Shoving it into the oven.

Simon could've facepalmed at the stupidity of Deji, yet he chose to just display a thumbs up. At least the pan was out of the way; he could take it out and throw it away later.

"Have you kids eaten, yet?" Yinka turned around and asked the cohort as she put the final pack of pretzels onto the bottom shelf before shutting the cabinet.

"Oh yeah, we made some eggs for ourselves, too." JJ reassured his Mum, and you internally smiled as you realised all complications were falling into place and smoothening out. Yes, you'd 'used' those eggs to make yourselves food... Not that you'd dropped two and wasted the other six on gloop-brownies-

Yinka and Olajide sat themselves down at the table with huffs, tucking their chairs in as Simon rushed to pick up a knife and fork for either and joined the line that Deji, JJ, and yourself had created opposite to the parents.

As the knife sliced through the egg and bread, you were all holding onto your breaths- squeezing your hands tightly behind your backs in absolute tension as you waited their response. You could feel JJ almost shaking from besides you, and unclasped your hands- reaching to the right to find his and placing your hand over his. He exchanged a quick glance before turning his palm over to interlink your hands, his fingers tightly squeezing yours whilst you tried to soothe him by rubbing his outer hand with your thumb.

You could practically feel the blush forming on your cheeks from your actions, and yet you were too nervous from the tension to care- everyone in the room was silent, awaiting as the parents raised their forks and knives laden with 5-minte-scrambled-eggs and bread...

The fork entered their mouths...

Five chews...

Hand slackens around fork...

Olajide's eyes go wide...

Yinka begins smiling...

Yinka swallows and gets up...

Yinka begins walking towards you...

"Oh wow, Y/n this is lovely! You said you made this? Wow, you've made it so nicely, thank you very much, kids!"

You could feel your heart swelling as Yinka wrapped her arms around you, one hand resting on the back of your head and pressing you into her body maternally, whilst the other squeezed comfortingly around your back.

JJ and Deji were chuffed as well as they received their own hugs and well-done's, and Simon got a little hug of his own, too.

The four of you raced upstairs after washing their plates and utensils, dancing around JJ's room ecstatically as you realised you'd gotten away with fucking up their kitchen, wasting eggs, and cooking whilst the parents weren't at home.

You may have gone to sleep with empty, cruelly rumbling stomachs, but you also went to sleep with hearts overflowing with pride and joy.

BONUS SCENE!

"Kids!" Your neck snapped back as you heard Yinka's voice calling from downstairs.

"Yes, Mum?" JJ called back down to the kitchen.

"Can you come downstairs please?" Her voice responded, making you all groan as you paused the game, putting the monitor on sleep mode and trooping down the stairs to the kitchen whereby you knew Yinka would be.

You were first to step through the kitchen door and regret it most as you saw that the previous humour and happiness within Yinka had been wiped clean, replaced with a confused and almost horrified look as she wielded a pan in her hand.

"What is this, can you explain to me?"

The mixture inside was burned and charred completely black and somehow still seemed to have a jiggle to it as the tremor in Yinka's hand had the horror wiggling slightly. And not only that, but the whole room smelled of farts because of that "brownie" monstrosity Deji had created, with four-too-many eggs.

You looked to the side to make eye contact with the other three boys who were all partially responsible also, and whilst JJ's eyes were wide in fear, Simon's jaw hanging loose in disbelief...

Deji had taken flight and sprinted out of the kitchen, running two-steps-at-a-time up the stairs whilst Yinka shouted for him to COME BACK DOWN, NOW, DEJI!!!

BONUS BONUS SCENE!!!

(Wow, timejump from secondary school AU all the way to current!Sidemen era!)

You took the camera off of it's tripod, slipping the SD card out and handing it to Kon, handling the camera with upmost care as you slipped it back into it's case and zipped it up post-shoot.

A warm smile remained on your face, only growing bigger as you felt a hand slip around your waist, pulling you into your muscular boyfriend's body.

"Nice scrambled eggs you made there, Jide," You grinned as you turned to see his own grin, dimples cutely pressed in at the corner of his mouth so sweetly you couldn't help but place a chaste little kiss there.

"Learnt it from the best," JJ chased after your lips, wanting a better kiss which you couldn't deny, sharing a quick kiss on the lips before pulling back and laughing.

"God, it's so ironic that after all this time the only thing you've learnt how to make is scrambled eggs..."

You cast a glance to the simple pile of egg amongst eight other well-crafted dishes. It was certainly the odd one out, and yet it also somehow looked like one of the most preferrable meals amongst the others.

"You could teach me how to make something else, you know?"

"Oh yeah?" You quirked a brow and turned back to face him. "And what do you wanna learn to cook?"

"I don't know, what's the easiest."

You cast your memory back to the things you'd make as a child- some of the easiest recipes- until your mind found the item you'd once deemed easiest to make, and yet had watched as JJ and Deji had messed it up to beyond repair.

"Well, I suppose brownies aren't too hard..."

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

Ayup everyone. Thought I'd write something kinda unconventional in terms of the fact i feel like i always write fluff/smut/x reader oneshots, but the recent sdmn vid kinda j made me wanna write some platonic fluff, ygm? Vid in question is:

youtube

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

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bbyquokka · 1 year

Note

Hiii 💞 hope you're having a good day/night/evening

Just wanted to say that I stumbled upon your fics and I loved them sm I finished reading them all 😭 I'm obsessed, I specially love the way you write about Jisung I think he's so close to how I always imagine him 🥺 so I was wondering if you could write something about him, where he and reader are a new couple and he's spending the night at her place for the first time and he's all cute and nervous 💖 thank you sm 💖

hiii! i hope you're having a good day/night/evening also! thank you for reading my fics! dont be afraid to give me feedback on them! thank you for also requesting and i hope this is what you expected. lemme know your thoughts and opinions – i welcome all feedback!

⌢ : ⤹ 💤 sleepover

→ PAIRING: Han Jisung x gn!reader

→ GENRE: fluff | suggestive.

→ SYNOPSIS: you and Jisung have a sleepover

→ WARNINGS: pet name (baby) | established relationship | some suggestive themes, nothing too extreme though

→ WORDS: 1.2k

→ have a request? send it to me here. read my rules to learn about my guidelines before submitting requests!

Feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

→ m.list — → ao3

"So, you're staying over at y/n's tonight? Minho asks your current boyfriend, Jisung, who is packing an overnight bag.

"Yeah, I am."

"First time?" Jisung nods slowly, packing some clean underwear and clothing before zipping up his bag. Minho disappears for a second before reappearing, slipping something in Jisung's pocket.

Jisung frowns, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the item Minho slipped in. He sighs softly and rolls his eyes as Minho belly chuckles, clearly amused by his little ‘gift’

“Seriously, lino?” Jisung sighs, hand outstretched as a condom is lay flat on the palm of his hand.

“Hey! You never know. Better to be safe than sorry.” Minho shrugs, speaking in a sing-song tone of voice.

“You’re a menace.” Jisung mutters before putting the condom back in his pocket. He doesn't have any plans on doing anything tonight with you, but as Minho said; better to be safe than sorry.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A soft knock on your door brings you out of your train of thoughts. You've been worried, anxious but also excited about Jisung sleeping over for the first time. You're a fresh couple so you’re still learning about each other. You both agreed to take things slow, deciding it was best for the relationship; neither of you wanted to rush things.

You open the door, smiling lovingly at Jisung. Dressed in standard jeans and t-shirt with a beanie on his head. His overnight bag over his shoulder.

"Sungie!" You grin. Jisung blushes at the nickname, looking at his feet in a shy manner.

"Hi baby." You grin, excitement and nerves bubbling in your stomach. You step to the side to allow him in, closing the door behind you. He takes his shoes and coat off, placing them to the side neatly before taking off his beanie. He ruffles his hair, trying to fix the static state his beanie hat has caused before giving up.

You take his hand gently in yours, your action catching Jisung off guard. You giggle at his flustered state, his nerves getting the better of him.

"My hand is sweaty!" He mumbles, trying to escape your grip.

"I don't mind. Plus, mine is too, so–" You shrug, grinning. Jisung softly chuckles, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you look?" You flush pink, butterflies exploding in your stomach and filling up every cell in your body.

"All the time, Sungie."

"Mhm. Then, I shall keep doing so." You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your heart doing tiny skips.

"Let me show you to my room." You whisper before dragging Jisung through your apartment. Jisung looks around, taking in every small detail of your apartment. From the house plants to the picture frames hanging on the walls; he makes a mental note at how the decoration is so you.

You open the door to your bedroom. You spent that extra hour to make sure your bedroom is clean as a whistle. Fresh sheets on the bed, your plushies neatly situated in their place. Fairy lights on the wall to give it that cosy vibe. The smell of flowers from your perfume you put on earlier is still hanging in the air around you both.

Jisung hums, looking around. It's cute and simple. It's you and that's what he loves about it.

"You can place your bag down on the bed if you want." Jisung snaps out off his thoughts, nodding before placing his bag down. He looks around again, noticing there isn't a spare mattress for him.

"Sorry to ask but, where will I be sleeping?" You flush a deep shade of red, your palms getting sweaty as you chew your bottom lip.

"Uhm. I thought– I thought we could sleep together." You paused, before your eyes widen, noticing how that sounded, "Not in that way! I mean, we could if you wanted to but, i mean like – We sleep! In the same bed!"

Your arms flay around as you stumble over your words, desperate to not make it sound sexual or that you're implying anything. Jisung laughs, cupping your cheeks in his hands gently.

"Hey, I understand." You breathe a sigh of relief, Jisung's lips pressing gently against yours.

"Sorry." You mumble against his lips.

"Don't be. You're cute." You hum, pulling away slowly.

"I'll go make some food or something."

"Sure! I'll unpack then."

After Jisung unpacked his bag, he made his way to the kitchen. You're humming a soft tune, cutting up some veggies. Jisung wraps his arms around you gently, kissing your shoulder blade.

"Can I help?" He asks, stroking your sides gently. You hum, handing him a knife and a cutting board. He takes it off you before getting to work.

Making some delicious food and eating it caused you both to become tired all of a sudden. You both agree on getting ready for the night, deciding on settling in bed with a classic movie; Howl's Moving Castle.

Jisung is in the bedroom, stripping himself of his clothing whilst you finish the last of your skincare routine. You walk out off the bathroom, making your way inside your bedroom as Jisung strips himself from his t-shirt and jeans.

You swallow, stopping in your tracks as your half naked boyfriend is standing in your bedroom. Jisung looks at you flustered, trying his best to cover himself up with his hands, feeling semi-naked.

The tips of his ears red, your gaze taking in every detail of his skin. You take in his body proportions. His broad shoulders, his tiny waist and toned skin. He works out occasionally but he takes care of his body by eating and drinking healthily and it shows.

"You're so–" You breathe out, unable to tear your eyes away from him. A sense of shyness explodes in Jisung's stomach, washing over him in waves. You pull his arms away from his body, taking in every detail of his firm chest and abs.

"Perfect." You finish your sentence off, causing Jisung to blush a deep red.

"Thank you." He whispers. You stroke his rosy red cheeks, giggling softly. You strip yourself of your clothing, changing into your nightwear as Jisung does the same.

He picks up his jeans to fold them and puts them to the side neatly, the condom that Minho gave him falling out of his pocket. Jisungs eyes widen as you pick it up, looking at him with a raised brow.

"I– It's not what you think!"

"No?" You question, slowly walking to him. He gulps.

"No! Minho, my roommate, gave it to me! I didn't plan anything, especially when it's our first night together! I'm not like that, please don't think I am."

You laugh at his flustered state, his words spewing out of his mouth at lightning speed. You wrap one arm around his neck pressing your body flush against his. You look at the condom that's held between your fingers before looking at Jisung in a suggestive manner.

"I mean, we could."

Jisung holds your waist gently, biting his bottom lip gently. He swallows, feeling heat rush down south at your implication.

"We could..?" He carefully questions. You hum, nodding.

"We could and I think, we should."

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julek · 2 years

Note

Anything striking you for 7 or 5 maybe? 💕🐢

#7. forehead against forehead + #5. intertwining fingers

There's a soft thud against the doorframe that makes Jaskier look up from his laptop.

"Hey," he says, his face softening with a smile. "Had a good nap?"

Eskel, who's leaning against the white doorframe with a languid expression, nods. There's a line running down the side of his face, which alone is proof of just how good that nap must've been.

"Come to the lounge," he murmurs, his voice rough, as he rubs at his eyes. "Sit with me a while."

Jaskier looks back at his computer, the half-full document blinking back at him. He's been working on his new project since noon; he can take a break. Plus, he's not sure Eskel would let him get back to it without at least moving around the apartment, and having something to eat.

Eskel nods. "I'll put the kettle on."

Jaskier loves their home.

He loves the hardwood floors (the ones he spent so much of his summertime scrubbing and waxing until they reflected his very image) and the high windows, their frames lovingly painted by his own hands. Eskel's evergrowing collection of houseplants which is slowly turning the apartment into a colorful jungle, each one of them with its very own name and personality. The way the afternoon sun comes through the kitchen window, painting the mug cabinet golden, their mismatched cups glinting.

It's so full of them, is what he loves. That he can see himself in each corner, that Eskel's mark is on everything they own. That every scrape on the wall has a story behind it, that every chip in the wooden furniture can be looked at with fondness. That he learned what the word home meant to everyone else, that sense of ease and light and love, finally echoing in his heart.

That it's the word forever intertwined with Eskel's smile.

"Your tea," his lover says, sounding a little more awake now.

"Thank you," Jaskier replies, making room for Eskel on the couch. He sits down right where a patch of sunshine crosses. Jaskier takes the mug from his hands, and blows on the hot water before taking a sip.

They don't turn the TV on. Instead, they sit in silence, listening to the sounds of the building around them: the distant noise of their neighbor's washing machine, the tweeting of the baby birds that live on their balcony. Someone is practicing the piano a few floors below them, and it makes for a nice background track as they take cautious sips of their tea, wary not to scald their tongues.

Leaving his mug on the coffee table, Jaskier lets his head fall on Eskel's shoulder. It makes for a comfortable pillow; the flannel shirt he's wearing is soft with use and he can feel the muscles underneath it (because Eskel, the showoff, always flexes them whenever he knows Jaskier can feel them). (The bastard).

He feels Eskel's head against his. "Okay?"

"More than," Jaskier replies, snuggling closer into his side, relishing in the way Eskel wraps an arm around him. "Jus' like being with you."

His hand finds Eskel's, and he twines their fingers together. His fingers are skinny and long, adorned with rings, and he plays with the lines on Eskel's hand, tracing them. Eskel presses a kiss to the top of his head.

"Funny," he says, making Jaskier look up from their entwined fingers and into his eyes. "I was just thinking the same thing."

Jaskier's face breaks into a smile, dimples and all, and he presses a loud kiss to Eskel's nose, then a silent one to his mouth. He tastes of rooibos and vanilla.

"Since we're on the same wavelength," Jaskier says, cheeky, "do you think we could go down to the bakery and get some of those absolutely wonderful bread rolls that make you so happy?"

Eskel shakes his head with fondness. "I guess we could," he says, playfully knocking his forehead against Jaskier's. "Or I could make us some."

Jaskier pulls back immediately, his eyes wide with joy. "You really would? For me?"

"Thought it was me they made so happy," Eskel replies with a smirk. "You weren't doing all of it for my sake?"

"Weeeeeeeell," Jaskier's voice carries, the mugs clacking together as he hurries to grab them and rushes into the kitchen. "No act is truly altruistic, isn't that right?"

"Mmm," Eskel says, sitting back on the couch for one more minute, eyes closed. "Don't know about that."

He can hear the clatter of Jaskier quickly washing their mugs, clearing the space on the counter for him to get cooking as soon as possible.

"Eskel, dear?"

"Mm?"

Now it's Jaskier leaning against the doorframe. "You coming?"

Eskel opens his eyes. There's a slant of the dying sunlight running across the wall, and it catches Jaskier's eyes, dark blue melting into crystalline.

"I am," he says, and follows Jaskier into the kitchen.

#mywriting #jaskier x eskel #jaskel #jaskel fanfic #answered #anonymous #hope you like it! thank you for sending the prompts <3 #jaskel modern au

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bechnokid · 1 year

Note

Thoughts on the new Pokémon games? Any favorite Pokémon or characters?

They are pretty good! My favorite character is Nemona and my favorite Pokemon is Chi-Yu, who I have lovingly named "Splashy".

I do have some more in-depth thoughts if you want to keep reading.

Graphics (5/10)

Probably some of the worst I've seen in a mainline game, despite the character and Pokemon models being really high-quality.

The low-quality draw distance is to be expected, but it's still pretty jarring seeing NPCs without their hand animations fully rendered. Some hands would look like 🤚 when holding a Pokeball or even just a pencil.

The environments are really lackluster, and the weather can cause the frame rate to drop into the single digits.

Glitches are plentiful, but not in a good way. Pokemon spawning in walls, HP bars glitching in Tera Raids, environments glitch when camera is not at an optimal angle, etc.

However, the Pokemon's textures look absolutely fantastic. I love how shiny the Magnemite line looks. :3 I kinda wish the particle effects were better on Pokemon like Skeledirge and Chi-Yu, but that's ok.

Story (10/10)

I'm so glad the story ended up so much better in SV than in SwSh. I remember not being able to play through Shield after playing Sword because of how boring the story was. Not this time, though. SV continued to keep me engaged throughout the whole thing.

(SPOILER ALERT) I kinda wish they put more effort into making Scarlet and Violet different from each other regarding the AI Sada and Turo. I don't think it would have been too farfetched to have Sada a golem because of the existence of legendary titans.

Arven's story is fantastic, and although he is not a favorite character of mine, I've really warmed up to him after learning his goal in healing his Mabosstiff.

Gameplay (7/10)

I really thought Gym Leaders, Titans, and Team Star Battles would be scaled. That would have been really cool...

I was deeply saddened that they decided to remove the majority of the QoL features from PLA, and reverted to its traditional turn-based gameplay. It isn't bad by any means, but it makes the game slower than it should be.

Being able to sneak up on Pokemon and catching them off-guard was really fun, but I wish it can be applied to also catching them and not just battling them.

However, auto-battling is really cool and fun!! I love it! Being able to bring out my Pokemon and battle other wild Pokemon really sped things up.

Follower Pokemon are back!! Although I kinda wished they changed the speeds of some of the Pokemon when they're running/walking with you. Chien-Pao, I know you have a walking animation, please just relax and walk with me!!

RIP sparkling sounds when finding shiny Pokemon. I understand that it makes finding them more exciting, but I think it makes it harder for those who have difficulty telling colors apart to find them. I don't really get having to remove a feature that would otherwise make finding shiny Pokemon more accessible to others.

Characters (8/10)

Although no one really got me all "doki-doki" like Guzma has, the cast was absolutely fantastic this time around.

I love that almost all of the gym leaders have their gym challenges as something they do on the side. Their passion is something else that they're into and they bring it into their Pokemon battles, whether it's baking, creating art, streaming, cooking, etc.

The Elite Four is fantastic, too. It's great seeing another Gym Leader become another member of the Elite Four. :3

That said, I don't trust Geeta.

Please help Larry.

Overall Score (7.5/10)

Pretty good! It's a good start to an open-world Pokemon game, but kinda falls behind compared to other open-world games out there that have surpassed it by a long shot and were released earlier! I mean like. The franchise is nearing its 30th anniversary and it still doesn't have voice acting of any kind.

It's an obvious result of dev crunch, and I really hope they space out release dates if it means getting better games. However, I don't think this will happen anytime soon.

#ask post #anonymous #bec talks pokemon

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mschivs-works · 1 year

Text

Scar(r)ed - Part 1 & 2

(The start of) a take on how Dustfinger got his scars. Further notes at the end, enjoy :)

You even get part 1 & 2 because I'm cool like that 😎

1.2k words

—

PART 1

Just like any other day the people were eager to get from stall to stall, trying to navigate through the crowded market. Few kids listened to their mothers and instead of staying close to them marveled at the baked goods, glazed with honey, edible flowers and nuts or at the Firedancer. Though Dustfinger had not only attracted the children. Everyone loved watching him throw the torches into the sky and catching them every time without fail. All five of them. If the tight-rope walkers in their blue garments would lean down and reach out they would have surely been able to catch them.

Dustfinger was without a doubt the greatest attraction.

He felt their eyes darting back and forth in between him and the flames and couldn't help but smile. Though he heard neither their cheers nor their clapping, giving his undivided attention to the fire. The wind picked up but it only took a few whispered words in its language to keep the flames bright as ever. One by one Dustfinger caught his torches and finally looked at his audience, taking a bow. He had been growing his hair out all summer and it fell onto his shoulders, the very front strands framing his face. The sunlight seemed to set it on fire and when he straightened back up his eyes glistened, full of life.

Roxane had to smile. She stood not far away, a little to the side and was clapping with all her might. Her arms were starting to get tired but she couldn't have cared less. Dustfinger caught her eye and she had to smile even more, giving him a thumbs up. Was that a hint of a blush on his face? It was gone before she could be sure, for Dustfinger was already putting the torches down to move on. As soon as he let go of them the flames jumped into his hands instead. The people blurted out 'Woa'-s and 'Oooh'-s and looked at the flames with astonishment. Roxane chuckled, they didn't know why the fire wasn't scorching Dustfingers skin and it made his acts all the better. Not like the Sootbird, he burned himself every time he performed. Though today he wasn't on the market and so Dustfinger drew all eyes onto him.

Dustfinger. The best fire dancer in all of Lombrica and Argenta. He who threw his torches the highest. He who had made friends with the fire.

It was currently climbing up his arm, flames licking at his skin but never biting. He made it jump to his other hand and formed a flower. Its petals wilted away in mere seconds but new ones sprouted in their place. Dustfinger looked at Roxane and it warmed his heart to see her in awe. He knew she loved the flowers and made sure to make at least one every time she was watching. He gave the flower a blow and it turned into countless moths, almost the size of his hand, that flew up above the heads of the crowd before vanishing into thin clouds of smoke. Once the last one was gone he formed his hands into a dome and gently blew into it. The inside began to glow like embers and you could hear the roaring of the fire. Then he opened them and with a stronger blow set a jet of fire into the sky. The people gasped and stumbled backwards only to lean forward again eagerly awaiting another one. Dustfinger did it again. And again. The kids were cheering the loudest, they loved it more than anything, he knew. Dragonbreath is what he called it.

—

His knife was polished to perfection - as per usual -, reflecting the sun perfectly, as well as Basta's hateful eyes. His fingers caressed the back side of the blade lovingly, almost as if he was petting a small animal. However, this pet had sharp teeth and Basta wanted nothing more than to see it bite off the fire-eaters face.

He was leaning against the wall of a house, envying the damned fire dancer. He didn't understand what they all saw him or his fireplay, why they were all so in love with him! Basta didn't care what the people thought of the fire-eater but oh how he hated that Roxane loved him. Beautiful Roxane. She was madly in love with Dustfinger and for what?! He was a coward and what else could he even do besides throwing a few torches into the air? She was stupid to love that unfortunate boy and not him, Basta. Oh yes, Roxane loved Dustfinger and Basta hated her for it but he loved her all the same. It was insanely frustrating. He huffed as the fire dancer came down from his stage and met Roxane with a smile.

—

The people were still clapping and while coins rained into the opened bag Dustfinger had placed at the front of the stage he grabbed his shirt. It was black with accents of red - of course, the colors of the fire dancers. Then he took his bag with a thousand thank you-s directed at his audience and put his torches inside. He hung it over his shoulder and as he made his way down he tried to fix his hair a little. A moment later he stood in front of Roxane. She took his hands and smiled at him. "I love it when you make the flowers." "I know. I make them just for you." Roxanes gaze shifted a little and Dustfinger could have sworn he saw her blush. A smile settled on his lips. Though it did not last long. In the corner of his eye he recognized a characteristically dark silhouette. Raven hair, piercing eyes and black clothes. And a knife in hand. "Is something wrong?" Roxane's voice immediately pulled his eyes back to her visage. Her head was tilted, making her long hair fall off the side a little and Dustfinger saw the concern in her eyes. "N-no don't worry," he answered with a smile to sell his words.

"Listen Roxane, I need to leave now. I have to bring the Prince some rations, I promised. People think his bear is a Night-Mare and no-one will leave him alone if he shows his face anywhere near the city." A chuckle echoed in his voice and he squeezed her hand a little tighter. "Meet me at the old barn at sun down. You know, the one with the withered away well." Roxane gave a nod in agreement and Dustfinger smiled. "Wonderful, I will see you then." He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and placed a kiss on her forehead. Then he made his way to the city gate.

Dustfinger looked over to the house. Basta was gone.

PART 2

Dustfinger passed the guards at the gate and followed the path. His long legs gave him a fast stride which he did not mind, not at all. tht uneasy feeling from seeing Basta still clung to him and he wanted to get away from the city as quickly as possible. He took a breath and checked his bag. Alongside the loose coins - he would sort them later -, and his torches there were some rations, wrapped in leather. Everything was still there. Satisfied Dustfinger kept walking and soon the late summer sun and the chirping of the birds made him forget about Basta. Or at least he wasn't bothered by him anymore.

The prince was with the others in one of the camps near the city. After walking along the path for a while he had gone straight into the forest. Dustfinger knew every tree, stone and bush near the city and in less than an hour he arrived. The kids were playing while most of the women prepared some food or repaired clothes. One came back with a load of fire-wood and dumped it near the fireplace. Dustfinger gave her a quick nod and she smiled before tending to another task. "Dustfinger! There you are." The prince came over and Dustfinger embraced him with a big smile on his face. He glanced at the bear but he seemed to be half-asleep. "I hope you brought-" "You can always count on me." Dustfinger got out the rations and handed them to the prince, who eagerly uwrapped them. His face lit up when he saw the fresh loaf of bread. "Thank you my friend." Dustfinger shrugged it off and sat down next to the fire instead. The flames turned towards him but Dustfinger looked at the Prince.

"Judging by the sound of your bag you had a successful day." Dustfinger had bitten into an apple and nodded in response. "Was Roxane there?" The Prince's voice was smug but affectionate and the fact that his best friend seemed to blush only made him smile more. Dustfinger sighed. "Yes, she was. And so was Basta." Evidently Dustfinger was not happy about that. "Don't worry about him. To Roxane he is the same that he is to all of us; a sign of trouble. She chose you." The Prince gave him a nudge and Dustfinger couldn't help but smile a little.

Yes, she had chosen him… why? He didn't know. Roxane was the most beautiful girl he knew and not even a nightingale could match her voice. She had had many admirers but she had sent them all away. Roxane only had eyes for him, Dustfinger, a no-body that happened to know how to make the fire speak to him. Sometimes he believed it was all a dream, that he'd wake up one day and see her with someone else. The thought of it alone made his heart break, because he was sure that living without her was a thing of the impossible. He loved getting lost in her eyes and hearing the sound of her voice, oh yes he loved it. More than anything else in this world. When she sang all of his worries simply faded away into nothingness and the world seemed a better place. He forgot about the cold winter nights, about the Fire-Raisers and Capricorn and the Adderhead. He loved it the most when she sang only for him. Then it was just the two of them, his head resting in her lap while her fingers gently ran through his firey hair.

A sudden huff of hot breath next to his ear let Dustfinger flinch. He turned and stared right into the beady eyes of the bear. He took a breath of relief and chuckled when the bear nudged his arm. "You want the apple, don't you." As if he understood exactly what Dustfinger said the bear grumbled and a second later the fruit vanished into his mouth. Dustfinger turned back to the prince. "Speaking of, unfortunately I can't stay because I am supposed to meet her at sun down. But I am sure you and your 'Night-Mare', " he nodded over to the bear with a grin, "will be just fine. I will be back tomorrow." Dustfinger and the prince gave each other a pat on the back and he was already on his way back to Ombra. Or more specific: the farms and fields surrounding it.

—

Hi all. I will update this as frequently as I can. I like to go into detail and build up scenes so expect a couple more individual parts. Later this fic will get exolicit with descriptions of violent and angst but triggerwarnings at the top will warn you.

Let me know your thoughts in the tags and comments!

Also that's MY art do not steal! (may use with credit)

#I am rly hyped for this :)#Hope you like it #inkheart #cornelia funke #Dustfinger #Basta inkheart #Basta #the black prince #Tintenherz #Inkheart fic #Angst #Whump #Fluff

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scarletpath · 6 months

Text

Harbinger Bard BG3 Fic

So when I was making my Tav, Zyn. I came up with the name Harbinger Bard as his title but I never used it in any of my stories. So I was really inspired to write this fun story about it. I might even write a part 2 to continue it.

It's all about how he got the name. And he HATES the name.

The day was a truly wonderful day. The weather was perfect, warm and comfortable. The sun was high, and the breeze was welcoming. It was peaceful. A perfect day for everyone to have their own time off to wonder and enjoy the city. Zyn was seated at a table by the wall of the tavern, enjoying the live music on the stage. It was rather relaxing. A welcoming environment indeed. His one hand was reached over on the table beside him, gently holding onto Astarion’s. The Vampire was sitting down next to him, idly people watching. They were worlds apart but connected by a gentle touch. Moments like these seemed to come so rarely in the past few weeks.

Their peaceful respite then soon came to an end. A cheery Wyll came into the tavern with a book held tightly to his chest. He spotted the relaxing elves and happily walked over to them, taking a seat in front of them.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting. I hope you don’t mind if I join you two.”

“Not at all Wyll. Watching strangers could only be so entertaining after a while.” Mused Astarion. Zyn nodded his head in agreement.

“Marvelous! I’m just so excited right now.” Wyll exclaimed, raising the book he had with him for a moment before placing it down on the table.

“I met Volo down by the square. He finally got his next book out. I’ve been waiting for months for this.” He said, lovingly caressing the book’s cover before happily saying out the title of the book.

“The Harbinger Bard. Volume five, The Dagger Named Kindness.”

There was a sudden coughing fit from Zyn as he leaned forward. He quickly took a few quick breaths to calm his chest, clearing his throat slightly to clear his airways.

“What? Why would you... I mean, I never pegged you as someone who liked Volo’s works.” Zyn honestly looked rather thrown off and obviously failing at looking calm.

“He’s such a foolhardy man. He makes up words when he can’t rhyme. I can hardly see his books as any better. He likes to make things up.” An awkward chuckle left Zyn as he waved his hand a bit to emphasize how preposterous the silly Bard was. Astarion on the other hand looked rather curious and reached over to the book. As if he was a bit suspicious about the contents of the pages. Wyll allowed him to take a look.

“Yes, he can be rather eccentric, but he’s a really good writer. The Harbinger Bard series is anything but fiction though. It’s about a real Bard that has been roaming around all across Faerûn. Helping villages and towns by cutting down every Bandit, Goblin and ne'er-do-well that he comes across. But no one knows who he is. They say he always goes around in different disguises so that no one can find him. Volo’s stories are based on witness accounts and investigating sites where he had fought.” Wyll looked starstruck as he talked about this heroic vigilante.

“Of course, our chivalrous Wyll would be so passionate about a wondering defender of the people.” Astarion didn’t look up from the book as he flipped through the pages.

Zyn reached over with a pleading look, trying to move the book away from Astarion’s eyes.

“Astarion. Put that silly book down, ple-”

He was then cut off when Astarion froze for a moment when he found something in the pages. His shoulders started to shake before he erupted in laughter. He tried to calm down and even did a mock ‘Ahem’ before he started to read what he found. Placing his hand on his chest as he played into the theatrics.

“The imposing Bard stood over the cowering knave. His brow was occulted shadow, black hair framed his pate. His eyes were as crimson as the Hells. He pulled out his bodkin, a sharp blade with an inscription towards the side that truly quoth 'kindness'”

Astarion barely made it through his performance without laughing. Zyn gave Astarion a pleading look not to say more.

Wyll seemed to be more amused at how Astarion seemed to like the book.

“Well, if you want. I can get you the first book to start you off. You really seem interested in the man.”

A puckish smirk crossed his face.

“Oh, I’m already am.” He said playfully, reaching out to take Zyn’s hand. Zyn gritted his teeth, whispering out a harsh ‘Don’t...’.

“I.. Don’t quite follow.”

Astarion literally looked like the cat that ate the canary. Without warning he pulled out a dagger and placed it down in front of Wyll. Only it wasn’t his. It was Zyn’s. And engraved on the side was ‘Kindness’.

Wyll stared at it with wide eyes.

“Goddammit Astarion!”

“Wait... does this mean...” Wyll paused as he thought back to everything he knew about Zyn. A wonderer, looking for himself. Held no mercy for the wicked. Used both his skills as both a Bard and an Assassin to dispatch the enemy and support the group.

“Oh... my gods...” Wyll stared up at Zyn, who looked none too pleased and quite aggravated at the very amused Vampire. His expression brightened as a wide smile formed on his lips.

“You’re him! You’re really him! You’re the Harbinger Bard!”

Zyn grimaced as he leaned over, trying to shush Wyll.

“Don’t say that stupid name out loud!” He hissed, quickly glancing around to make sure that no one heard. Wyll was unfazed at how unpleased Zyn was. He was just so excited that he was face to face with one of his idols.

“Fine...” Zyn grumbled out. “I’m that guy in those stupid books Volo wrote. Though, he was clearly overzealous with his ‘creativity’.” He said gingerly.

“I’m not some hero on some stupid quest, nor am I the “Harbinger Bard” “He said as he used air quotes. “Gods I hate that name.” He muttered.

“These books are just over hyped ramblings of a stupid Bard about my encounters.”

“I don’t know darling. It’s quite the page turner.” Astarion chimed as he read a little more. “Especially now that we know the ‘mysterious’ identity of the famed Harbinger Bard.”

Zyn glowered at Astarion with a tight-lipped frown.

“Oooh, we should have a book club of the series!”

“Oh my god, yes! I’ll bring my copies!”

“How about not!”

Wyll just laughed. It was obvious that today was amazing for him.

“But I just must ask. Why have ‘Kindness’ etched on your dagger?”

Both Astarion and Zyn stared at Wyll and in unison said:

“Kill them with Kindness.”

“Ah, I should’ve known.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #astarion #wyll ravengard #bg3 drow #my tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion/tav

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ansicred · 8 months

Text

Tim + Engineering

This is Tim's biggest "thing", and he's been interested in it ever since he was about 4 years old and had "helped" his father fix up the family car one summer holiday. His main related collection is car manuals/schematics because he likes seeing the process of how they're built while his other collections are bits of computers (including synths) and tools. He has filled a good amount of his bookshelves with the manuals, with only certain schematics being framed and put up on his wall, and has boxes of computer parts literally everywhere. His interest in computer engineering came about while he was at school and had been offered the chance to do Computers/ICT as an A Level subject (a rarity) - which he had planned to go to university with, but his joining of and success with Odd Foxes sort of put it on the back burner. He became obsessed with synthesisers specifically after he'd bought his first one, taken it apart, and put it back together again. The obsession only grew with the synth's popularity in music and he's, essentially, an expert on them. He doesn't just play them, he fixes them when they're broken, he customises them, and builds his own (in 2023 he has 3 modular synths he's designed and built himself that he named Huey, Dewey, & Louis (Hu3y, D3w3ii, & Lo-1s). His idea of a break from work is to work on his little computer projects and mess around with computers in general, of which he has roughly 4 going at once at any one time - with one over-arching one being a synth-pc combo he lovingly nicknames his Wonderchips Project that he's spent a good deal of his free time on trying to make it work (and often using his bandmates as guinea pigs for user-friendliness testing). Aside from computers and synths, he's sometimes spent time on 'smaller' projects that involve customising music players (like a boombox he'd customised for Frank as a birthday present), fiddling with car radios, and building up a car (... despite the fact that he can't drive). He always has a small toolkit on him for emergencies and makes a point of making sure that there is a bigger one wherever he's going (one at the studio, one as part of the tour gear, one at home, etc), you know, just in case something happens that requires him to fix something.

#ansicredocs #oddfoxesverse #timfoxes #timfoxeslore

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speechlessani · 2 years

Note

I laugh and shake my head, "You are absolutely ridiculous, Ben Kenobi!" I call as I head back to my room.

A day later, I ship out a letter inside a small parcel with things,

Anakin,

Your letter was extremely cute, and I think your handwriting is so pretty. I love your words and I don’t think they are simple because you are not simple.

The mark on your neck is called a hickey in Basic, and I would love to leave more. I definitely should have left more than one, for that I am sorry. If the thought of leaving you the next morning was on my mind, I assure you I would have. I miss your radiant face and your smile. I hope you are smiling for everyone to see.

I am so glad to hear your mother is so happy! I am also overjoyed to know your days are spent having fun and doing what you love, and that Watto is a good boss. I do not mind if you tell your friend Kit that we… ‘made love’, as I have told my brother. He teases that if I might need to have treats with him to make me feel better, then the sacrifice of his physique would not be worth it. Arrogant bastard. (I love him dearly I assure you.)

I love reading about your work, if you can send me drawings or blueprints of what you are working on, I will be happy to study them. Your fancy dinner sounds scrumptious, and I hope it was as delicious as it sounds. Please tell your mother I am well! I’ve sent this with a small box, the woven shawl is for her, and I hope it compliments her pretty smile.

I am well! My recent mission was a success, though I’m sure you knew that with your new fancy datapad! If you find my social media (Instagram) I might be able to find your account within a sea of others, though I make no promises. In either case you can still see the photos I post about my life and my missions.

Next week I will be heading to Cato Neimoidia! It’s an inner rim planet and I’ll be on guard duty for their Queen. I am SO EXCITED. My Commander, Jet, will also be in attendance so it’ll be like a splendid little vacation with him. Speaking of, I showed him the drawings I’ve done of you, and he insisted I show them to our little brother, Max. Max says your pretty and asks if you’re single. (Ha!)

I am using this paragraph to lovingly invite you to wash your sheets. I thought it over and I’ve included my favorite sweater to sleep in. It is a men’s large and should actually fit you, I bought it when I was sixteen at a second-hand shop and it is literally the comfiest item of clothing I have ever found. It should smell like me. And don’t worry, I won’t miss it! It is summer here on Coruscant and I’m usually too busy with missions to enjoy my comfy items anyway.

For you, I am sending a polaroid camera. I’ve included film and a few photos of me, please send me back a few of you. I will carry them on my belt into battle if you do. (Oh! And I want to see what Kit looks like! One of you together too, please!)

I adore the drawing you did of me, and I’ve framed it and put it on my wall next to a drawing of you. It’s almost like we have a photo together! You are so beautiful.

The final thing I’ve put in the small package, for you, Shmi, and Kit, is some cake mix and frosting. It only requires a little bit of oil, water, and an egg. It’s chocolate! I think you’ll really like it, sweet boy.

I am sending this letter with a typed version in Huttese, but I wanted you to know I wrote it out first. I scanned it and it gives me back the translated version. I wanted to be sure you would know the meanings of all of my words. I would write it myself but… I’m afraid it would come off as less than competent.

I do miss you and the memory of you keeps me warm in the long, hard nights of the battlefields. I hope you are well and that you enjoy the cake, do let me know your reaction to it, please?

Thinking of you,

Lilium Pierce

The second Anakin receives the package he hurries home, plopping down onto his bed to open it all up. He spends half an hour reading and rereading your letter, then carefully looks through the things in the box, absolutely beaming the whole time.

He waits about another week and a half, when he’s had time to do it all, to send something back.

��

Lili

Your handwriting is so pretty but I think you know that.

A hickey… that is strange word. But I like them. I still want more of them. Do you know if you will come soon? I look every place every morning for you. Every thing make me think of you.

My dinner was yummy and my mom love the shawl. She say said it is very soft and comftorbal comfro comfy.

Cato Neimoidia is pretty. I see pictures on my datapad. Will you wear dress?

I sleep in favrite sweater every night and put it on every day when I come home. It smells now like both. Me and you. Together. Always. I wish.

This camera is fun. I already have use all of film and ask for more with credits I send you. I also put many pictures of me and my friend and my mom and our cake. It was good. It was best thing I ever have taste. I had sugar rush for many hours, my mom say said. My faverit favorite is one with creamy icing stuff on my nose. Ha.

You call me sweet boy? When you are there be so sweet all times? I say though it made me blush. You really want to carry picture of me on belt? I feel like wife missing husband in war in book I read uhh recent. Why did I put uhh.

Anyway I miss you much. I dream you are with me and I never want to wake. My eyes glue shut when I see you in dream.

Your full name is Lilium Pierce. Lilium. I think you could not get more beautiful and then you prove me wrong. You have other trick up other sleeve?

I want name for you. You call me sweet boy. I want…

Hmm…

My love. Because I give you all my love when I see you long time ago. And I think only of you. All my heart and all my thought they go to you.

I miss you, my love. I hurt with no you here. I sleep with your picture on pillow every night. So you are next to me.

Bye bye. I… love you. I do really. Okay I must go. Bye bye my love.

-Anakin Skywalker

—

And from there, it takes about three days before Fox comes up to you, holding it out. “Hey- you got this in the mail, I thought I’d deliver it personally since you’re right here.”

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bi-disaster-yn · 2 years

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Persona Non Grata

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Alpine has been rubbing reader up the wrong way and Bucky doesn’t understand why his girlfriend and feline friend don’t get along.

“BUCKY!” You shouted. “Get in here! Now!”

Your boyfriend appeared at the door frame to the living room, rubbing his sleepy face with his flesh hand.

“Yes, doll?” He asked, confused at the volume until he pulled his hand away to see the scene of the crime.

There, on the couch were your favourite cushions ripped to shreds. The stuffing was all over the couch and the floor, making a complete mess of your usually neat and well kept apartment.

The culprit was sitting in the centre of the mess, giving you a nonchalant and frankly smug look. Stupid fucking cat, you thought.

“Do you see what your cat did?” You spat at him. You knew that it wasn’t fair to take this out on Bucky but Alpine had been driving you up the wall recently.

Ever since you and Bucky had moved in together, the cat had tested your patience. She would lie on top of your black clothes and get her white hairs all over them, she would screech at 5am, waking you both up so she could have attention. Instead of using the scratch post you had got for her, she used the table legs. You’d had enough.

Bucky sighed, “yes, doll. I see that. They’re just cushions though, I’ll buy you new ones.”

Your flared your nostrils, feeling your blood go hot and the anger bubbling underneath your skin. “They’re my favourite cushions! And they were really fucking expensive. They were the first things I bought for this apartment which has now become your cat’s playground!”

Bucky started to pick up the bobbles of stuffing off the floor, giving Alpine an affectionate pat on the head as he went. Alpine closed her eyes in appreciation and when she opened them again, you were sure she was mocking you with her stare.

“She’s a cat, Y/N, she doesn’t know what she’s doing is wrong.” He replied, picking up the rest of the mess and observing the cushion covers that had been ripped with her claws. He quickly put them back down before you had time to properly observe the damage that had been done.

You rolled your eyes; “she’s pure evil, Buck.”

This earned a smirk from Bucky and you knew it was dramatic but you didn’t care. Alpine was persona non grata to you.

“Look, I get you’re upset but that’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?” He put the rest of the stuffing in the bin and looked at you. “Why don’t we go and get some breakfast then we can go shopping for new ones?”

You folded your arms in protest, not wanting to adhere to your boyfriend’s sensible suggestion as you were too worked up and frustrated. “Why are you not even mad about her bad behaviour?”

He shrugged, “like I said, she’s a cat. She doesn’t know what she’s doing is wrong. Besides, she’s so cute, how can you be mad at that face?” He laughed lightly and put Alpine on his lap. She rubbed her head on his chest and looked up at him lovingly. Like butter wouldn’t melt, you thought.

You groaned and spun round, grabbing your jacket, having had enough of not having your grievances taken seriously. “I’m going for a walk! Enjoy your day with your little demon!”

You walked out and slammed the door, not giving Bucky time to say or do anything.

You sulked for a good couple of hours, getting a coffee and going for a walk in the park. All around you was people walking their happy dogs.

Why did have to like that cat? You thought. Why could he not have had a dog?

Then you remembered the time that you had come back from a mission from 3am and Bucky had clearly had a nightmare. He was sitting in the middle of the living room, staring at the wall and clutching on to Alpine for dear life. Alpine was licking his jaw and rubbing her face all over him and you could see that it was slowly calming him down.

You also remembered the time where Bucky had went out for beers with Sam and Alpine was completely lost without him. She paced the apartment frantically, desperate for her owner. She would look at you every now and then with a plea for help, mewling at you as if accusing you for not being worried enough.

You sighed, knowing that Alpine and Bucky were kind of a package deal. Whilst you would have preferred a dog, Bucky wouldn’t have had the same bond or derived the same comfort from a dog. You were the love of his life but Alpine was his family. He didn’t have much family anymore so Bucky needed to cling on to what he could.

By this point, you’d calmed down and were ready to go home and apologise to your boyfriend for overreacting. The cushions being ruined was annoying but it was a small price to pay for the knowledge that Bucky found immense comfort in Alpine.

With your tail between your legs, you returned to the apartment. You were about to call out for Bucky but you heard voices coming from the living room. You stood at the door which was ajar and the sight melted your heart.

Bucky was sitting on the couch watching a sewing YouTube tutorial on your laptop. His face was sternly concentrated on the needle and thread as he attempted to sew your cushion covers back together. Alpine was cuddled into his side contentedly.

“You know, Alpine,” Bucky said. “You’re going to need to be nicer to Y/N. She’s my favourite person in the world and I love her so much. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Alpine gave him own a look of complete apathy and you chuckled, almost respecting her level of disinterest.

“Anyway,” Bucky continued to Alpine as though she could reply. “I think I might just need to get her new cushions. I’m hopeless at this.”

You sighed contentedly, watching him, no longer caring about the cushions. You had your boyfriend and his stupid cat and that’s all that mattered.

#bucky barnes x yn #bucky x original character #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #alpine #bucky and alpine

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just-jordie-things · 3 years

Text

Bite Me - Mike Wheeler

word count: 4052 warnings: swearing, unedited and poorly written summary: Mike has harbored a crush on (y/n) since the day they met. And all it takes is a run-in with Billy Hargrove for him to lose his shit and let his feelings be known. (a/n): I just randomly felt the need to write for one of my best boys

___

(y/n) (y/l/n) was a sweet girl. If you asked anyone they’d tell you how kind she is, to everyone she meets. From giving out homework answers when someone forgot, to sharing her lunch, she’d lend a hand no matter who you were. She was a good person, and that’s why Mike was so in love with her.

He had been ever since she’d joined the Party, back in the fourth grade. She’d been bringing in an extra juice box and snack for two weeks, just for Will, and the four boys agreed unanimously to offer her a spot in their group. Mike can still remember the look on her face, the wide grin that showed off her recently lost tooth, and the way she’d giggled and agreed instantly.

They taught her D&D, she was invited into Will’s fort, and taken in by Joyce as one of her own. She was truly one of them.

She didn’t look at him like everyone else did, it’s one of the first things he’d noticed about her, and he could see it every time their eyes met. That annoyed expression that he was used to receiving -from peers, from his parents, even Nancy, even their friends- he’d grown so accustomed to it, until he’d met her.

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” Mike was shouting, about to lunge towards Steve, before (y/n) and Dustin grabbed his arms to yank him back. “We can’t just stay here and-”

“That’s exactly what we’re doing!” Steve shouted back, shoving a scolding finger in the younger boy’s face. “We’re staying here, so I can keep you dipshits safe!”

Steve rolled his eyes before spinning around to leave. Nothing stressed him out like these kids.

“Come on, we’ll figure something else out” (y/n) said quietly, and tugged on Mike’s arm a little more.

His glare softened when he turned to her.

She nods her head off to the side, prompting him to walk off with her. He groaned, but he followed when she pulled him towards the living room. Her hand didn’t let go of his wrist until they were away from everyone else.

“You know nothing you could say right now is gonna make me less pissed off-”

“I know,” (y/n) giggles before he can start ranting again. “But maybe you can just take a breath and pretend to calm down?” She hums, and she laughs again.

Mike groans loudly, loud enough that everyone in the house could hear him, before he threw himself down onto the sofa.

(y/n) just shook her head, and sat next to him.

“Steve’s just trying to keep us safe, Mike,” She says, voice just as soft, but a bit more serious now. “He’s not doing this to make you mad, you get that, right?”

He nods, but hangs his head in his hands.

“Are you… um… upset because El’s out there?” She asked unsurely.

She had a pretty good feeling that Mike had a crush on Eleven. He was distraught when she left, and since she’d come back (a few hours ago) he’s been extremely on edge. Hence the pouting right now.

“I guess,” He shrugged. “I just- I want to just-”

“I know,” (y/n) murmurs again. “I get it”

She admired Mike’s need to help, to get involved. He was brave, if not a little reckless as well. But there was something sweet about his extreme need to help. Even though she was still convinced he was only wired this way because of his crush on Eleven.

Mike looked over to her, finding that loving look on her face. His favorite expression -maybe even his favorite thing- and it somehow calmed him down a bit. She smiled when he hadn’t started grumbling again.

“You good now?” She asked.

“Yeah,” He sighed. “I’ll be fine”

She grinned, and poked his cheek affectionately before getting up from the couch.

“I’m gonna get a glass of water and make sure Steve’s calmed down too,” She told him. “Guess I’m the only sane one around here”

He laughed a bit as she left the room.

“Steve?” (y/n) called gently as she approached her older friend.

He turned to her, an unamused, and rather annoyed, look on his face.

“You alright?”

“I will be, once I’m in a retirement home and have restraining orders placed on all of you,” He answered, making the girl laugh. “Your boyfriend calm down yet?” He asked, and her laughter stopped almost instantly.

Steve was chuckling now at how red her cheeks were turning.

“He’s not-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, heard it before, pretended to believe it before, whatever,” He said, and (y/n) busied herself with getting a drink. “Now’s as good a time as any to just, you know, confess. You’re stuck here anyways”

“No I… I can’t um…” She shakes her head, staring down at the bottle of water she’d grabbed from the fridge. “I can’t do that” She finished weakly.

Steve had known (y/n) for a few years now. He’d met her the first night he’d hung out with Nancy in the Wheeler home, she’d been there with Mike coming up with a new character for D&D. His first impression, as it was for all of the kids, was that she was a geek. And she was, but she was a lot of other things too, and what stood out the most to him was her kindness. She didn’t exactly fit in with the Party like the boys seemed to. Not only because she was a girl, but because she was… friendly.

Mike wasn’t cruel to Steve by any means, but he was a snarky little shit that sometimes made Steve just want to-

“Why the hell do you like that little asshole so much anyways?”

(y/n) was still blushing as she shrugged her shoulders.

He’d picked up on her little crush one of the first times she’d met him. He called her out on it right away too, luckily only Dustin had heard, and he’d laughed it off, thinking it was a joke.

It wasn’t.

“He’s such a piece of shit,” Steve said through a laugh, earning a pointed glare from (y/n). “Obviously he doesn’t treat you the same way he treats, well, everyone else”

“No, he doesn’t,” (y/n) sighed lovingly.

Her eyes glanced out to the living room, where Mike and Lucas were heatedly, and quietly, arguing. She rolled her eyes at the sight, not that it surprised her.

“He’s very, um-”

“Sweet on you?” Steve supplied, earning another look, which quickly turned into a nervous smile. “Yeah, that’s how I’d put it. I don’t know why you’re being such a baby about it. He obviously has a little crush on you too,” Steve said, wagging his finger around in her face. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be such a little gentleman towards you”

(y/n) didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t have to for Steve to know how she felt. He’d always known. She didn’t do a great job at hiding it, but her friends, and Mike for that matter, were oblivious.

They were interrupted by a bright light shining in through the windows, bright enough that she shielded her eyes as she wandered out to the large picture window.

“Who is that?” She asked, as everyone gathered around to figure out who could show up at the Byers’ house right now.

Their question was quickly answered.

“Sinclair!”

The angry, dangerous voice sent a shiver all the way down (y/n’s) spine, before an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. Billy Hargrove was bad news, but him being here, right now, was even worse.

“Stay inside” Steve ordered, shoving the kids down underneath the window.

“I know you’re in there!” Billy screamed again from outside.

“Stay inside” Steve repeated, before walking out of the house.

“What the fuck does he think he’s gonna do?” Lucas asked, as everyone peeked their heads up just enough so they could see what was going on outside.

“He’s gonna fight him” Dustin said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

“He’ll lose,” Max mumbled. All eyes turned to her, but her gaze was trained on her brother, afraid. “He’ll kill him”

“He’ll be okay,” (y/n) whispered to her new friend. “Steve’s a tough guy, and can throw a punch-”

“I’m not so sure he can take one, though” Max said.

(y/n) frowned, and set a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“We’ll be alright” She assured, even though she wasn’t certain what was going to happen.

Steve was now walking down to Billy, who was still yelling, but they couldn’t make out what exactly.

“What’s he saying?” Mike hissed, only to get shushed by Dustin, thus starting a ‘shh!’ war.

(y/n) only let it go on until Billy shoved Steve back by his shoulders.

“Boys!” She scolded, sitting up a little straighter as the fight outside escalated.

Just as she’d sat up, Mike grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her back down.

“You want to get seen and murdered?” He whisper screamed. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her sweet smile. His brow furrowed at her smile, but he wasn’t quick enough to say anything about it, as everyone’s attention was pulled back to the scene outside.

Billy had shoved Steve to the ground, and was racing up to the house now. He locked eyes with the Party, who all quickly leaned down as low to the floor as they could get.

“Lucas, run!” Max screamed, shoving the boy to haul ass before her brother could storm in and get his hands on him.

When the door swung open so hard it slammed against the wall, Mike grabbed (y/n) by both arms and just about ripped them out of their sockets as he pulled her upwards with him to get her as far fucking away from Billy as possible.

“We have to help Lucas!” She tried telling him while he dragged her off to the other side of the house. “Mike!” She shoved his hands off of her, and gave him a pleading look. “This isn’t like you, come on, he needs our-”

“Where are you, Sinclair!? Come on out!”

She ran away from Mike before he could convince her to hide.

Finding Lucas shoved up against the wall, something in her clicked. Billy’s significantly larger framed towered over the boy, who was clearly afraid, while Billy snarled nasty things right in his face.

“Why don’t you just fuck off?” She yelled at him, before thinking through the consequences of her actions.

Dustin and Mike stared at her in shock. She didn’t curse much, so to hear the foul word come out in her voice was… pretty out of character.

Just as Billy whirled around, likely about to send one knockout punch to her face, Lucas took his moment of distraction to knee him right between the legs. (y/n) squealed, both hands covering her mouth in surprise.

It was then that she took Mike’s advice to run back into the kitchen, and duck down behind the cabinets so she was out of sight.

“You’re fucking dead!” Billy howled in pain, and while every bone in (y/n’s) body told her to cover her ears, close her eyes, and stay hidden, she peeked around the corner anyways.

“No,” A different voice, a calm voice, a familiar voice, spoke up.

(y/n) had never been so relieved to see Steve in her whole life.

“You are” He finished, and took a strong swing of his fist against Billy’s jaw.

The crack that resonated made her wince, and she shut her eyes only for a moment as illy toppled backwards. He didn’t fall, and instead swung back at Steve, starting a very violent fistfight in the Byers’ kitchen.

“Come on, you gotta move” A pair of arms encircled her torso and helped her up from the ground.

Mike’s hands were much more gentle with her now than they had been a few minutes ago, and this time she let him bring her out to the living room, away from the fight.

Her eyes were wide with fear as she watched Billy throw Steve around the kitchen effortlessly. It was terrifying, she felt as though she was about to see him get killed.

When he landed a rather harsh punch, right under Steve’s chin, she cried out for him.

Steve crumbled to the ground, definitely knocked unconscious. He looked dead, though, and as the thought crossed her mind, she felt it again. The snap. Like an instinct buried deep was just let loose.

“You motherfucking piece of shit!” She screamed in a way that Mike, or any of them, had ever heard before, and was charging at Billy in an instant.

It was a hasty decision, grabbing the beautiful vase of flowers off of Joyce Byers’ table and throwing it full force at the back of Billy’s head.

While his head was soaked, and definitely bleeding from the shards of glass, he still managed to stay standing, and was fuming with anger as he glared down at (y/n).

“You made a big mistake little girl” He growled, and began to stalk towards her in a threatening manner.

“Bite me” She snarled back at him, followed by the rash decision to spit on him.

“(y/n) what the hell are you-!?”

Mike’s warning was cut off when Billy reached her, and she kicked him with all the force she could right in the gut. He grunted, but it hardly slowed him down. All she could see was red as she kicked him again, and began to throw her fists against his chest.

She didn’t have an ‘oh fuck’ moment until he grabbed her wrists in his large hands, and kept his hold so firm that tears welled in her eyes from the pressure.

“I’m gonna fucing kill you, little girl” He snarled, teeth bared right in her face.

Oh, fuck.

She tried to yank her body backwards, out of his grip, but he was faster, and stronger, and bigger than her. This resulted in her being thrown, no, slammed into the nearest wall. She cried at the crack of her skull against it, but had no time to react as Billy’s fist was all she could see, before it struck her and knocked her out instantaneously.

She fell like a limp, broken thing, and even when Mike grabbed her and shook her by her shoulders, she remained unconscious. It didn’t matter that Billy was still looking for blood, he pulled her into his lap and held her close against his chest. He was living a delusion thinking he could protect either of them if Billy came back for more, but he didn’t care. He was gonna keep her safe now.

Max had plunged the syringe into her brother’s neck, and was threatening him with Steve’s bat, but Mike hardly paid them any attention.

“(y/n), wake up, come on,” His voice was barely a mumble, and he hated to admit it but his throat was growing hot and tight with his tears choking him up. “C-come on open your eyes” He stuttered.

He pushed her hair out of her face so that it wouldn’t get sticky from the blood running out of her nose. He wiped away the red substance with his sleeve, not bothered by it at all.

“We’re going!” Lucas called, and rushed over to Mike to help him carry her. “Dustin Will and Max are getting Steve in the back. I’ll help you with her”

Mike didn’t have time to question anything Lucas had just said, and hastily went along with the plan. They looped (y/n’s) arms over both of their shoulders, and made their way out to Billy’s car. ___

Everything.

Hurt.

It was the first thing that (y/n) was aware of when she came to. Her legs, her arms, her torso, her head-

Oh shit my head hurts.

She groaned softly, reaching a shaky hand up to prod around her eye. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but it was definitely bruised. The rest of her body had to have been bruised too.

She suddenly shot upward as the car went over a bump, and that’s when she realized she was even in a car. Why was she in a car…?

Her head rolled against the seat, and she was met with someone’s shoulder against her cheek. She winced at the pressure, probably because her cheek was bruised and bleeding.

“(y/n)?” A gentle, but distant voice called. It sounded kind of hazy, like the person talking was miles away, and not right next to her. “Hey, can you hear me?”

Her eyes met Mike’s round and worried brown ones, and a lazy smile tugged on the edges of her lips. Even though his brow was furrowed, and there was a deep frown on his lips.

“What happened?” She asked, voice scratchy and quiet.

“What happened?” Mike repeated, much louder than he intended. She flinched, and while an apologetic look swept over his face, he didn’t apologize. “(y/n), you attacked Billy Hargrove” He told her in a grave tone.

“I did?” She asked proudly, her smile returning.

“No- don’t- jesus (y/n) what the hell are you on?” He asked. “He almost killed you, I mean, look at you!”

“Can you please stop yelling dipshit?” Max called from the front. “I’m trying to focus here!”

(y/n’s) eyes widened, and it dawned on her that Max was the one driving. But just as she opened her mouth to protest being in the car right now, Mike continued on with his angry little rant.

“I mean, seriously, what the hell, (y/n/n)? Did you think you were gonna win? Did you really think that you were gonna take him down?”

Her brow crinkled and her eyes welled with tears, both from all the pain and his cruel words.

“Do you even realize that he could’ve killed you? Huh? I mean, I really thought he did for a second. Do you even care?”

“What’s your problem right now?” The girl whimpered

“You are! You’re my problem,” He said, not thinking through the fact that she was crying right now. “That was really stupid (y/n), really reckless”

“Oh, because you care so much about playing it safe,” She scoffed.

It was getting awkward for the others in the car, minus Steve, who was still knocked out.

“All you wanted to do tonight was to get out there- well- well here we are, Mike!” She shouted. It hurt her head to yell, and Max was yelling again too, but she drowned it out. “Hope you’re freakin’ happy” She mumbled, holding her hands against the side of her head.

Mike sighed, and pulled her hands away from her face, staring at her seriously.

“(y/n)...” He said softly. “I’m sorry it’s just…” He let out one more heavy breath to prepare himself before diving in. “Look at yourself (y/n), you’re hurt and there’s- there’s nothing I can do about it”

(y/n’s) brow furrowed as she stared back at him.

“What do you mean?” She mumbled weakly.

“I mean I- you… I have to… ugh” He groaned, clearly frustrated by his inability to form a coherent thought.

“You have to… what?” She hummed, face leaning around his shoulder tiredly.

They were close enough that their whispers were only heard by them. And somehow, it felt like they were the only people in the car.

“Mike?” She whispered when he hadn’t said anything yet.

His eyes flickered over her battered face. The black eye, her split lip, her bruised and cut cheek, his heart broke looking at how much pain she must be in right now. He couldn’t believe he let this happen.

“...protect you” He answered lamely.

“Protect me?” She repeats, soft, and loving. “From what?”

“Apparently everything from interdimensional monsters to senior year bullies” He said, making her laugh softly.

“You don’t have to do that,” She said with a small shake of her head. “I’m alright, I will be anyways. You don’t have to worry so much about me-”

“See I do though- you- you make it impossible not to worry. I’m just always- I’m a mess, okay?”

She giggled again, and rose a brow.

“I’m not following…you sound kinda crazy Mike-”

“I love you, okay?” He told her.

She choked.

“And I just need you to not get yourself hurt… okay?”

She’d never heard him speak so quietly, so nervously.

“You- you’re- um-”

“No more fighting people- and-and things- bigger than you, deal?”

His hands cupped around her face, thumb stroking over the bruise on her cheekbone in a comforting sort of way. She swore she was melting into his touch, for a moment she forgot all about the agony her body was in.

She didn’t think twice about leaning off his shoulder so she could reach up and plant her lips against his. It’s a gentle kiss, because her lips are sore and she was a bit nervous.

Mike’s eyes widened, and he was sure this wasn’t real. No, it couldn’t be real, there was no way (y/n) was kissing him. Maybe he was the one that got knocked out? And this is all some kind of twisted nightmare-dream?

But it was real, she was kissing him. And it was… wow it was great.

She’d almost pulled away, but he pulled her right back in, and shut his eyes to kiss her properly this time.

If he was being honest, he wanted nothing more than to just take her and pour every ounce of love he had for her into this kiss, but it would probably only hurt her more.

They were cut off by a low whistle, and (y/n) turned to see Steve, who had apparently been sat next to her this whole time, and Dustin, who was sat on his other side, both giving the pair very different looks.

Despite his face looking just as messed up as hers, Steve pulled a sly grin, and winked.

Dustin, however, looked like he might vomit.

“What. The. Fuck!?” His voice cracked when he screamed, making both (y/n) and Mike jump a bit in their seat. “You guys have been- been- hooking up this whole time!?”

“What? No!” (y/n) argued back, shaking her head and trying to kill the idea in Dustin’s head before it escalated, but it seemed to be too late for that.

“You have! You’ve been frenching!”

“Oh my god,” Mike rolled his eyes. “Dustin, shut up”

“Can we save this argument for later, fellas?” Max hollered from the front. “I don’t think that this is the most important thing going on-”

“W-wait a- wait a minute- wait a-!” Steve’s eyes widened as he started to panic. “No! No way! Stop the car right now! Who let her drive-!?”

His screaming was abruptly cut off by the car swerving, causing everyone to scream now.

“Drive on the right side of the road! Jesus Christ we’re all gonna die!”

(y/n) wrapped both arms around Mike, one behind his neck and the other around his torso, keeping her secure. In case this car were to crash, her seatbelt, and Mike, would anchor her in place. Well, she hoped it would anyways.

He reacted quickly, embracing her tightly.

“I’ve been thinking I would get killed by a demogorgon,” She mumbled to him. “Guess it’ll just be a plain old car crash that takes me out”

He chuckled, but shook his head at her.

“No one’s dying, we had a deal”

She glanced up at him, a sweet smile on her lips. And she waited for him to look back down at her to say anything.

“I love you too” She hummed, just soft enough that Dustin (luckily) couldn’t hear.

The smile that grew on Mike’s face was brighter than she’d ever seen from him before. (y/n) was so relieved that her feelings were returned, that she felt she could go back to sleep, if she wasn’t getting nervous all over again about what was going to happen.

All they had to do now was to kill a monster and save their friends.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #mike wheeler #mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler fanfiction #mike wheeler scenario #mike wheeler imagine #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader

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oftenderweapons · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 5k

Genre: smut, pwp, slightest angst, plenty of fluff, established relationship, idol!AU

Rating: 18+, minors scroll away.

Synopsis: Set after the events in Illicit Affairs | MYG, Kitten finds the courage to take that step that always makes her a bit uneasy. She finds out her brave decision was way more than worth it.

Warnings: angst in forms of them needing to part because of Yoongi's schedule, and Kitten's toxic ex, and Yoongi's shoulder (he's still injureed in this one). Swearing, very descriptive unprotected oral sex (female and male receiving) face riding, blindfold, sub!yoongi, breast worship (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), squirting, ofc cumeating, spitting kink (? i guess it's called snowballing technically).

Author's note: This was requested by @dani2008aguilar (tags arent working dumblr, fix that) so thank you Dani and another special mention goes to the wifey @joheunsaram who betaed this lovingly (and hornily LOL)

Here is my masterlist, enjoy!!!

There were many things you had chosen not to say.

First, that you were scared of Yoongi leaving so early in your attempt at a relationship.

Second, that a part of you still feared him finding someone better — more understanding, unproblematic, empathetic.

Third, that you wanted to hide in his bed and stay there, possibly forever, possibly with him.

For now, you were just lounging there, hair wet, body naked and wrapped in a towel.

He was currently in the bathroom, flossing and shaving. He was so neat. Such a maniacal perfectionist.

You snickered at the thought and stood, getting rid of your towel and putting on one of his t-shirts. The glass wall dividing the shower from the bedroom was largely appreciated by Yoongi at that moment. The design that had convinced him and Namjoon both to buy an apartment in that building was definitely worth the money.

Yoongi stared at your frame in one of his signature FG shirts, your breasts and curves making the hem hit a couple inches higher than his usual fit.

Once he entered the room, he laid down on his side of the bed, waiting for you to join. He looked adorable in his light, loose pajamas, so soft and blatantly expensive. It was one of the few items he was willing to spend good money on — with the exception of music equipment.

You found your place on the bed and snuggled up against him.

“Isn't it getting a bit too hot to sleep all cuddled up?”

You blinked at that and scooted away. It was confusing since he was the one who would always stick to you by morning come; still, you let it slide. It would be your last night together before his so-called “cramming-week” and he wanted space. So you gave it to him, no matter how disappointing it felt.

However, it was as if he could sense he had said something wrong. “Kitten?”

“Yes.”

He came closer, spooning you. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Mh mh,” you confirmed drily.

His hand suddenly appearing around your waist almost disturbed you. “Kitten?”

You moved away to shut the light. Yoongi was confused.

“Love?”

“Let's sleep. It will be a long week.” You fluffed up your pillow and found your sleeping position.

On the opposite side of the bed, he switched on his light. “I won't be able to sleep until you tell me what happened.”

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

“Why are you upset at me? Because of the cuddles? I was being sarcastic and we both know I wanted them!” he complained petulantly.

“Then don't make me feel like shit about them!” you snapped back almost loudly.

Yoongi froze a little at your remark. “I'm sorry about what I said, ____. I was teasing you but it's okay if you're not in the mood. I'd like some cuddles, please.”

You exhaled and opened your arms at him. He immediately threw himself at you, closing his eyes once he felt you starting to pet him affectionately. “I overreacted. The distance thing worries me.”

He nodded and kissed your chest. “I'm sorry I didn't get you. I should have asked.”

“There's also… something else, I guess…” you started vaguely.

“What is it?” He immediately sat up straight, cupping your cheek. “Are you okay? Is this okay? Are you—”

“Everything is fine,” you reassured him quickly. “It's just that there's something I've wanted to ask you the whole day and I kept telling myself I needed to find the right timing and I kept postponing and I feel like I have no time left now.”

“Kitten,” he cooed sympathetically, fondly.

“I want uh… I— Would you like, uhm… to go down on me?” you almost whispered, your words rushing out of your mouth.

He blinked a couple times. “You want it now?” He watched you blush and look away before gripping your chin and making you look at him. “Look at me and tell me if you want it now or not.” As you tried to avert your gaze, he moved like a snake to maintain eye contact.

“Yes, now,” you confirmed shyly.

He placed his lips on yours delicately, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheekbones. “I'm sorry I reacted that way. Did you feel like I was doing what your ex did?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around him, secretly so grateful for his understanding. “I know you're not him, but sometimes I prefer not asking than being denied. And I don't want you to feel forced into saying yes.”

“Trust me, you don't need to convince me,” he started kissing down your jawline, reaching your ear and purring against it as he murmured, “I was born for this.”

You chuckled as your toes curled, his voice working its magic on you, as always. “I bet you are.”

“I can't wait to prove it to you.” He slotted his leg between yours, letting you grind against it as he dedicated some more attention to your neck and chest.

“Do you want me to take the shirt off?” you asked, lost in the feel of him so absorbed by your body.

“As long as you're comfy,” he replied tenderly, his fingers slipping the neckline to the side so he could nibble and suck at your collarbone. “We're just getting started.”

You snickered and threw your head back, giving him more of your naked skin. “What would you say if I asked for a blindfold?”

Yoongi slowed down and parted from you, his expression sultry as he looked into your eyes. “Won't that trigger you?”

You shook your head. “I want to focus on the feeling and… I mean, in the past, not looking helped my mind from wandering.”

With a kiss on your cheek, he rose and stretched to his drawer. “What's our safeword, Kitten?”

“Yellow to slow down, Red to stop. Green to go,” you replied diligently, watching him rummage into his drawer until a gummy smile accompanied him fishing out a black silk blindfold. “I use it for travelling.”

You snorted in a very unimpressed way. “Yeah, sure.”

His petty expression made you laugh as he arched an eyebrow and sat on his heels. “We both know you don't want me to edge you, right?”

His tone made your laugh freeze on your lips, your hands reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it off, trying to appease him with the sight of your naked chest. “Sorry,” you mumbled meekly.

He nodded to himself and climbed on top of you. “It's okay. We're good, baby. I just need you to remember you are the one who requested the blindfold, so you're in control of it, okay? You can wear it, take it off, burn it, I don't care. It's your own toy and you're in power. Okay?”

You nodded and settled down, propping yourself up.

“I know you've done this before and just avoided it with your ex, but if anything triggers you, you give me your safeword. You're in charge, yes? I am serving you,” Yoongi stated clearly. “You have all the power. To stop me, to order me around, to use me and move on me however you like.” His gaze was steady as he held your eyes with his. “I'm bottoming for you, are you alright with that?”

You didn't know it was actually contemplated in the picture. And the idea of Yoongi being so adamant in his will to submit was not only enlightening but also arousing. “I don't want to hurt you though.”

“I can set my boundaries. I'll use the safewords too if I need them.”

“Okay then,” you confirmed, trying to relax.

He laid on top of you, propped up on his elbows as he touched his lips to yours. “How are you feeling?” he asked, closing his eyes and feeling your skin with his face. The smoothness of your neck under his lips, the warmth of your chest against his cheek, the light sheen of perspiration between your breasts meeting the tip of his nose, his mouth, and the taste of your sweat on his tongue, salty, an anticipation of the flavour of your wetness.

And then the softness of your breast under his teeth, grazing your flesh before sinking in. And then the rough texture of your nipple.

“I'm doing perfect,” you breathed out, running your fingers through his hair. “You're so lovely, baby.”

Yoongi smiled and nuzzled up against your chest. “I know,” he teased before turning serious. “You make me like that,” he praised you before sucking your flesh into his mouth.

“You love sucking my boobs, don't you?”

He stayed attached to you and nodded. The motion made your insides clench. He released your skin with a pop, nuzzling it with his nose to dry it — but also to check that it bruised enough to stick around for a week, while he’s gone. And your blood vessels bloomed so close to the surface that not abusing them was a shame. He would have marked your whole body if he could have.

You enjoyed watching him for a minute before grabbing the blindfold and putting it on. You knew that not looking was in large part an excuse to experiment with him. You wanted the trust. And you wanted to feel him, only him. You would have plenty of time to watch him do that in the future. Right then you wanted to dive into sensations — focus on how different it feels rather than looks.

Something wet, soft, hot circled your belly button. His tongue. And then his teeth nibbled at it. You knew you had to be gooey between your legs. You felt the creamy wetness already.

Yoongi’s hands landed on the inside of your knees, spreading you wide.

Yoongi was never one to believe in the motto ‘the world is your oyster’. He preferred willing surrender rather than reckless exploitation.

But now, with your legs spread wide in front of him and that wet, salty scent filling his nostrils, with the way your breasts moved so blatantly in front of him rising and falling with deep breaths, your folds glistening as he parted them with his fingers, he found the small pearl between your legs. He had been offered an oyster, and he was ready to enjoy every single millimetre of it until you were begging for reprieve to gods unknown.

He grabbed two pillows from his side of the bed and slid an arm behind your lower back. “Lift your hips, please, love.”

You did as he asked, lowering yourself only to find out your hips were significantly raised now.

“This way my neck won’t cramp. It will feel good, I promise.” Yoongi’s words hit two inches shy of your mound, his hot breath fanning over your damp skin.

“Just lick me already,” you breathed out, only slightly exasperated.

He chuckled, tempting you. He brushed his lips against your labia. “What did you say, Kitten?”

You felt your cheeks heat up and your voice cracked a little as you complained — with way less outrage now — “Just lick me already.”

He laughed. And then he delivered.

His first lick was glorious, slow, torturing. He pushed his tongue into your entrance, then he slipped it out. And then he licked up.

It was heaven. And the moment he found your clit, you knew you had the longest night of your life right in front of you.

You mewled.

“Just like that, kitty cat,” he taunted you before his tongue turned serpentine, heading back down and drawing a series of tantalising curves with the very tip of it before delivering three short and dainty licks to your very clit — not the hood, not the sides —, each in a different direction.

He closed his mouth, rubbed his lips side to side against your core, covering his lower face in your juices.

“Any requests? Suggestions?” he murmured, stopping for half a second.

“Everything you did but more and harder,” you panted, gasping in disrespect as he grabbed your legs and spread you wider, turning ravenous over you, sucking your nectar out of you and spitting it over your folds. He was literally in heaven. He was feasting, his mind was hazy and his heart was beating old songs of desire and mirth. He watched your skin glisten, he heard it squelch and he tasted it as his spit and your wetness mixed up. It was so beautiful he closed his eyes and dove into it all. He didn’t care. He was just a man, and you were his object of worship.

He knew he would need hours to feel like he had done everything he could and finally give in to exhaustion. But he wasn’t anywhere close to even a mild tiresomeness, so he got into his rightful position and dug in.

You didn’t know what was happening. He had one thousand tongues. One thousand hands.

He touched everything, tickled every spot, licked every inch, turned you inside out. You weren’t sure you were still you by the time your first high came around.

You needed to clench around something but he refused to give you that, no matter how hard you begged, how much you promised, how desperately you bargained. He gave you ten percent of what a true orgasm would have been by denying you fullness.

You ended up sobbing, pushing, pulling, thrusting into him, wriggling like a feral beast underneath him, trying to escape him while he pinned you down with all the strength he had.

You could only feel tongues. Thousands of them.

And then, while oversensitivity possessed you, he had the brilliantly cruel idea of catching your clitoris in his mouth — and sucking. Hard.

Your hands flew to his hair, grabbing it, tugging at it — away — then pressing him back down when you found out that tightened his hold and made it all even more unbearable.

Yoongi had the vague impression you had to be screaming. He didn’t care. He heard a beeping sound in his ears — it usually meant the head was good. He didn’t have the heart to ask you; first, because he didn’t fish for compliments; second, because his mouth was too busy to talk and he was very happy with whatever it was doing at that moment.

He only stopped when you begged for a breath, which he conceded only because he was feeling a bit too breathless himself.

You tugged the blindfold off looking at him just in time to catch him wiping his face with his forearm.

“You’re fucking insane!” you exclaimed, slapping at his hand as he tried to bring it between your legs. “Gimme ten minutes or something!” you joked — while also being pretty serious.

He chuckled. “Feedback?”

You shook your head and threw it back on the pillow. “I’ll ask for this a lot. But you’d better slide those pretty fingers in next time or I swear I’ll never let you eat me out ever again.”

He kissed your belly. “I’ll slide my fingers in the day you’ll look me in the eye while you fuck my face.”

Your face boiled at the thought. It wasn’t ‘oral sex’, or ‘eating out’ or ‘going down’. It’s ‘fucking his face’, with all the rowdiness and dirtiness it entailed. It was feral and forbidden and so extremely naughty, with a pinch of vulgar and unspeakable.

You loved it.

“The blindfold stays off,” you announced, cosying up into your spot, fluffing the pillow behind your head. “I’m ready.”

He grinned. “You want to watch me, kitty cat?” That was his nickname. The one you used to tease him with. It wasn’t the usual ‘Kitten’ he used with you — he was taunting you.

“I want your prodigious fingers inside me, kitty cat.”

He showed you his gummy smile. “You’re a fast learner. Grab my head, I won’t be happy till I’m gasping for air.”

“You know a job well done,” you teased, cupping his crown and pushing him down, till his chin and lips and nose slid down your mound, rubbing against it in a way that made you shiver. “Just do it again but fuck me with your fingers this time.”

He lapped at your entrance three, four times, letting his drool slide all the way to his fingers — two awaiting just below your entrance. He realised he was rubbing himself against the sheets below him. He wanted a pillow.

He didn’t know how but you noticed and passed him one. Call it the perk of sleeping with too many pillows.

His situation fixed, he turned back to work. He was more than grateful to do so, his fingers inside you started rubbing that perfect spot, the one he had learnt so well with all the random fucking you had done in the last week or so. “Which kind of motion do you like?”

You stared at his face. His cheeks were adorably red, his hair curling at the tips with perspiration, and his eyes were so black, flooded with frenzy. “Try a few, I liked more than one.”

He nodded. “Stop me with the right one, okay? I want to please you, Kitten.”

You combed his hair back, trying to get the best view of his tongue lolling out and tentatively flicking it against your clit.

And there he was: the glorious Min Yoongi. Tongue out, bubblegum pink, eyes closed as he took a larger lick, slurping side to side slowly, voluptuously, sucking at the labia diving in to rub his nose to your folds, to smell you, taste you, feel you.

His fingers were relentless while his mouth assaulted your cunt, robbing it of every ounce of pleasure you could offer.

At some point you realised you were flexing your quads, trying to push into him, against him. He seemed to realise it as he took a pause, using his nose to nudge your clit as he spoke. “Fuck my face, Kitten. Just hold my fucking head and rub yourself over my face. I hold my tongue still and you slide on it.”

You tried to imagine it. “You put it inside and I like… in-out—”

“God no, babe.” He hardened his tongue and nodded, the tough muscle rubbing against you.

“Oh fucking— Goodness, yes!” you sobbed, feeling your orgasm crest over you.

He stopped moving once your body responded naturally, your hands grabbing his hair and tugging him into motion while your hips started to fuck up, against his awaiting tongue.

“Yoongs—” you gasped, your glutes flexing faster, till you felt your hips cramp.

You clamped them shut in response, Yoongi continuing unfazed as he recognised the crest of your climax before you started tumbling down the high at breakneck speed — the same speed at which you were pushing yourself against him.

Yoongi was positively surprised. He had been waiting to see you like this for so long, and now your tits were bouncing as you thrusted up, throwing yourself at him with all your might.

You were unbridled and beautiful and in that precise moment he felt like he was fully serving his duty.

He felt accomplished. The fact that he was also on the verge of his own orgasm was a minor inconvenience to him, one that he solved easily.

“Sit on my face,” he spoke once your clit was too sensitive and you forced him away — his fingers still ministering their attentive stroking against your walls, slow, deliciously so.

“Are you sure?”

“Just sit on my damn face, babe. I promise you’ll love it.” He kissed your belly, then looked at you.

You were sweaty, dishevelled, as if you’d ran a marathon in the middle of August. You didn’t look tired, though.

You were glowing and insatiable. “Okay. How?”

He wrapped his arms around your legs, his hands holding the small of your back. “Follow me,” he said before he rolled on his back and dragged you with him.

You huffed at the manoeuvre, using your hands to steady yourself once you found your hips straddling his face.

“Like this. Good Kitten.”

You chuckled, ready to find a remark when he decided to spread your labia with his thumbs and dig in once more.

“You’re hungry, uh?”

“You’d better remember your safeword because I won’t stop till I collapse.” He was rock hard. His pyjamas were stroking him just barely and he could still feel himself pulse. He hoped at some point he would be lucky enough for you to notice him, and kind enough to offer him relief.

You smiled. “Just this last one, okay? I need you alive and well so you can cram all week and I can fuck you dry next weekend.” You touched his hair. “Just for safety, pinch my leg twice if I’m hurting you, okay?”

He nodded meekly. “Okay.” He looked into your eyes. “I love you, Kitten.”

You licked your lips. You were somehow aware that what you felt for Yoongi couldn’t be just love. It had to be something stronger, something superior.

Or maybe no one had ever loved you before. “I love you too, Yoongi.”

All softness was gone after that. He ravished you once more, tapping his tongue three, four times against your nub before lashing it out, mercilessly.

And then he began to suck.

“God no…” You knew what was about to happen. It had never happened like this before though. Maybe it was because of his fingers hitting an unexpected nook. Maybe it was the combination of all the motions. Maybe the position. “I’m gonna—”

Yoongi was alert, but not worried. You would have already punched him in the face if anything was going wrong.

Instead you were moving faster, harder against him.

He was ecstatic.

He let it happen. He watched it happen.

One second he was sucking your clit, the next his entire face was drenched, covered in a transparent liquid without smell or taste.

It was the first time it ever happened to him — and he was fucking glad you were the first to ever reward his hard work like this.

Meanwhile, you were lost someplace between heaven and hell, your confusion long abandoned as you simply basked in the moment.

Min Yoongi had just made you squirt all over his face and chest and he was basking in it like a gladiator in his crowd’s cheers.

You had screamed his name too, most definitely causing misery to all your neighbours, but you were too high to care.

When you came back, Yoongi was still slowly, diligently licking you, this time with tenderness and dedication. If you had fucked his face before, now he was making out with your cunt, with tender kisses and fond caresses of his tongue.

“Quite a show, my love,” he murmured.

He had loved watching your breasts bounce, your head thrown back, your thighs wiggling at the way you were riding him. And your face — sweet mercy, your face…

He was lost in you.

“The neighbours are gonna hate me.”

Yoongi chuckled and shrugged. “They’ll simply be jealous of not having you as theirs.” He helped you lay back on the covers.

“Fuck, look at this mess—” you fussed immediately, noticing the wetness on the grey covers.

“I’ll deal with that. You go clean up,” he said, drying his face with the sheets before turning towards you, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it.

You frowned at how impersonal it felt, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him closer before planting your lips on his, pushing your tongue to his mouth until he opened it, allowing you to slide into the cave where he was still treasuring the taste of you.

And then you felt it, his crotch against your hip. “I’m gonna blow you,” you whispered, more as a declaration than a request.

He whined, but still he rolled onto his back, fixing his arms behind his head, getting comfortable. “It’ll be the easiest orgasm you’ve claimed from me.”

You giggled and settled between his legs, rolling down his bottoms and underwear just enough to free his dick. “Damn, you’re delicious,” you murmured, staring at him, tracing the pulsating vein crawling up his length.

He hissed and thrusted up.

You wasted no time: you swallowed half of him and grabbed the rest with your hand, drooling aplenty to get some lubrication in your palm.

Three strokes and his hips started gyrating, the salty, bitter flavour of him already hitting your tongue.

“I fucking love you, Kitten,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “I fucking love your sweet cunt on my face and your sweet throat around my cock.” You bobbed your head on him even more enthusiastically. “I love every damn thing about you, baby.”

He was so far gone and you were so helplessly proud of it.

He spilled inside you in a minute, and you took him diligently, not wasting a drop of him.

His orgasm was endless and he was wrecked by the time it ended, oversensitivity making him hiss and fuss.

You simply smeared the last bubble of cum he had to offer and headed back up, at his side.

As he stared into your eyes, his eyelids lowering sultrily into exhaustion, you pressed your dirty fingers to his lower lip, tracing it enticingly before he parted his lips.

Tentatively, letting him understand what was happening, you rolled on top of him, only a couple inches separating your lips from his.

You got closer.

One inch.

Half.

You opened your mouth, letting a lazy dribble of pleasure roll down your tongue and fall into his awaiting one.

He purred at the gesture, showing you how he swallowed it before he arched up, and wrapped his lips around your tongue, sucking it into his mouth.

It became one more sloppy make out session, where he managed to earn out one more lazy, weak climax as he rubbed himself against your hip.

And then you found yourself laying side by side in the disastrous aftermath of an exceedingly sloppy, wet session of oral sex.

Not even in your worst night you had managed to make half the mess you were seeing in that moment.

“We need to shower. Again,” you commented, Yoongi peacefully kissing your chest while he breathed in and out, his eyes closed.

“Just a minute,” he debated before hearing you dissent.

“Come on, kitty cat. You can nap on the tiddies later. Let’s go shower.”

“I want cuddles,” he spoke through a pout.

That made your heart melt. “I’ll cuddle you in the shower.”

“Can we take a bath instead?”

You chuckled. “We can take a bath, baby.” You kissed the top of his head. You had no idea who was the messier between the two of you at the moment. You only knew it was your turn to take care of your kitty cat tonight.

You managed to slide out of bed and get Yoongi’s favourite bath bomb in the tub while some warm water was running. You almost had to princess-carry him to the bathroom, his face nuzzled into your neck while you managed to make him waddle there as he hugged you.

Then he fussed some more when you had to leave him in the tub alone to change the sheets — thanking the waterproof mattress cover while you changed every single item of bedding, frowning at the three out of six pillows that needed to be washed.

It took you maybe ten minutes before you were back in the bathroom, spooning Yoongi in the tub, rubbing his shoulder and neck.

“I want to meet your physiotherapist,” you murmured. “I want to learn how to soothe your shoulder and back muscles. Your neck too. You spend too much time hunched over your desk.”

He nodded absentmindedly. “You don’t need to baby me because of the shoulder.”

“I know.” You proved your point by pressing two specific points at the base of his neck, causing him to groan in pleasure and relief. “This is why I want to learn.”

Yoongi chuckled. “I’ll arrange a meeting.”

He leaned back into your chest, turning his face to the side and rubbing the tip of his nose against your neck. “I like when you take care of me when I’m tired.”

You smiled. He was the one who babied you when you were tired, spoiling you rotten. It was only natural for you to return the favour just as ardently. “I do, too.” You also loved babying him when he was vulnerable and lovely and exhausted.

“I love you a lot. I want to wear my heart on my sleeve for you.”

You felt your eyes water a little. How had someone so delicate and strong and committed ended up in your life? How was he so perfect, so made for you?

“And I’ll protect it from anyone who wants to hurt you.” It was a pact. He would be open to you, and you would never hurt all the gentle, tender sides he showed you, all his unshielded softnesses. “Allow me to protect you,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his temple. “I know I’m difficult, and unfriendly and rough—”

“You’re not. You’re tough and loyal and determined. And you’re so, so loved for it.” You naturally found his hands, speaking that language he knew so well. You wrapped your arms around him. Kissed his forehead. “You’re so, so loved too, Yoongi.”

You felt him relax in your embrace. “I like it when you hold my hands.”

For the first time in years, you felt it.

Peace.

“I like it too.”

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