https://remycantcope.carrd.co/ ⋆ "Till all are one."
╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ Masterlist !
19 ⋆ they/them/hers ⋆ Arizona State University ⋆ Museology
꩜ currently thinking about: stardew valley, star wars, maul, aftg, the vorkosigan saga
❤︎ main fandoms: transformers (literally all of it), star wars (tbb and tcw mainly), all for the game, stranger things, gravity falls, marvel, and so many others sprinkled here and there!
✮ other interests: music and music-based subcultures, graphic design, art history, archaeology, the paranormal, the deep sea, mythology, mixology, space, political activism and discussion
✓ what i will write: headcanons, x readers, drabbles, short stories, character x character, potential longer fics if i gain the time and motivation, and any other reasonable silly requests including nsfw!
✕ what i won't write: anything from a fandom i'm not familiar with, anymore matchups, super specific requests, your oc x reader, any kink i am not comfortable with, anything discrimatory
a/n: happy may the fourth! welcome back star wars era remy :)
warnings: real acknowledgement of maul being disabled so if that makes you uncomfortable you can piss right off! this is a very vague x reader. set whenever you feel like it, just post-slice-n-dice.
-----☆----- 1026 words
"You once said you were indifferent to pain."
Their hands remained gentle as they loosened his left shin prosthetic from the grooves where it fit against his metal thigh.
"I am." he gritted out, wishing they would just service his limbs in silence like the Mandalorians.
Shin removed, they could clean inside the rivets of the thigh piece, and he tried to pretend he didn't still have some semblance of discomfort twinging in his phantom thigh.
"Is is hard for you to let others do this? I am sure you might be capable of doing it yourself." they continue to clean gently, free hand gentle as it stabilizes his thigh.
"I don't like looking at it." Maul shuts the rest of the conversation down with a slight flick of the force--a warning pressure at their throat.
They work in silence, cleaning the opposite thigh with their head down. He doesn't feel bad. Too many questions. Even the youngest Zarbrak on his team knew not to ask too many questions.
Whatever pain he had been imagining eventually subsided, but it always took too much time for his liking. He supposed he should be grateful that it wasn't any pieces higher up his body. The seams where his flesh met the metal molds were the worst, each wince shooting all the way up his spine.
When they reattach the shin pieces, he kicks out both his legs from the side of the med table.
Stretching the left out first, then the right, they give Maul an approving nod.
"Anything feel loose?"
"No. It is satisfactory."
Letting his metal boots touch the floor, Maul felt all the pressure from his upper body rest upon the prosthetics. Balanced as it was supposed to be, a thin stream of the force trickled through the prosthetics so he could trick himself into believing he still had feeling in the soles of his feet.
"Do you need your-"
"I changed it earlier. I can do that myself." More pressure on their throat. This time, it almost hurt.
They packed up the kit of tools and cleanser, one of the few items that made it out of Mandalore. Maul supposed he could thank the empire for removing tariffs on the cleanser--it was, after all, the same one they used on their droids. That little dehumanizing fact almost negated the price.
The look they gave him before turning away wasn't of pity, too gentle for his taste, but not entirely soft. It made him pause, reaching out with the force.
Very carefully, he probed into their mind. They stood still in the doorway, clearly able to feel it. Not that he usually took the time to hide his exploration.
He saw himself, as he usually did when he was reaching into someone's mind. Usually, it was dark images, blurry black edges from their fear. He would be quicker, stronger, scarier in their mind.
The image he saw now was different.
Quick and strong, yes. Scary, a little bit. The fear they felt around him was more of an afterthought--or a pre-thought. They knew what he was capable of, yes, perhaps more than several on the team. Yet the fear did not completely consume their vision of him. The darkness was only a slight vignette around the edges. It could grow and consume them, yes, but only when he decided to.
The oddest thing that struck him was that there was no pity.
They had seen him refuse any help, they had seen him entirely rely on others, they had seen all the parts of him that were no longer there. Metal parts that could be found in a scrapheap, if he looked hard enough.
But there wasn't any pity. Concern was different, and allowed only because it seemed to take subservience to their awe.
Awe, yes, that is what it was. Like the first time he saw a star that was not the hostile red sun of Dathomir. Even the cold energy of his Master watching him look out the ship's window did not dampen his awe.
Perhaps it was the same now. Even though they had seen him weak--frustrated and at the mercy of the toolbox and whether his body could withstand more pain, their awe was not subdued.
Memories of theirs flashed through both minds: him speaking at a meeting (how mundane), cutting a droid cleanly in half, and practicing his forms. Things anyone could do, and yet...
There were, of course, more impressive memories. Some squadron he took out. Some other meddling crime boss he talked down to. Him sitting sideways on a throne, pretending it was always his home.
The pathetic memories were there, too. Biting through his teeth till they bled when they fixed a joint near his hip. A loose shin fitting to the thigh piece, causing him to fall to one knee. Weak, weak, weak, but those were just his own thoughts.
One was far more intimate than they probably wanted him to read. One of their hands is on his bare chest, stabilizing him as they service some part of his metal body on his hip. He was hurting, of course, both hearts beating far too fast. One hand is curling into the sheets, and the other is coming up to dig his nails into their wrist.
"Breathe." they had whispered, quickly fixing the issue before he could yank them away.
With one final prod of a tool, it was over, and he released their wrist. Tiny pinpricks of blood seeped to the surface of their skin. But they kept their hand there, flat against his tattooed skin, waiting for his heartbeat to go down.
Their hand had been so warm, too warm.
He had gently wiped the blood away with his own hand, enough of an apology to suit them both. No thank-yous, either, as usual. The memory told Maul they didn't mind, either. All they could think about was the two heartbeats, slowing down to match the pulse from their own wrist--
"One of the new troops will help you next time." They said curtly, shutting down the memory.
😁 thanks for the shout out ! I have three next-door-neighbor fics now. I like the idea of him initially being irritated that he's falling for her because it's such a basic trope and he likes being wild and unexpected; but he ends up becoming more and more enamored with all the little things she does. and of course it's all fuel for his filthy fantasies that she might eventually join in on...
a/n: happy extremely late Valentine’s Day. school and work are kind of evil right now, so sorry for the delay. wrote this to please the masses (like 4 people). and just fyi, i only write 18+ Billy if that wasn't a given.
Billy never was very good at doing anything in moderation.
He drank too much and drove too fast, went through packs of cigarettes faster than any guy at work and had fucked his way through most of the girls in this shit town.
It also meant he couldn't stop himself from coming back to her.
Meeting at either window, kissing real quick before his dad yelled at him to drive Max somewhere or her mom needed help with a chore. He would pull at her bra straps, big hands on her shoulders as he held her tight to his body, her little fingers curled into his shirt.
If he saw her during a block party he might yank on her sleeve, a little wait-around-for-me-tonight signal that had her hiding a smile. He didn't smoke on the days he saw that smile, and he figured she liked it better that way.
"You want to move back to California, right?" She asked one night, letting him hold her around the waist as they leaned back against the side wall of Billy's house.
"Yeah. I hate it here."
"You got enough money?" She played with the fingers of his right hand, twisting his ring onto a different finger. Billy squeezed her waist a little as a response.
"Nah, not yet. I don't get nearly enough hours at the pool anyway. " Not that it paid much anyway.
"I've never been there." Her voice was soft, hesitant to keep talking about it. He liked that and leaned to press a kiss to her cheek to let her know he didn't yet mind it.
"It's nice. So much warmer than here. You can see all of the sky."
No grey overcast that lasted all through basketball season.
She tilted her head all the way back to look at the cloudy Hawkins sky, crown of her head resting against his chest. "Is that why you always wear jackets?"
Did he? Billy supposed he was always wearing jackets outside of the pool. And working out. Even then, sometimes, when the fall started.
"I guess. Do you not like them?" He teases, smirk washing away the watercolor California memories. She looks alarmed and shakes her head quick.
"I do! Especially, um, the leather one."
"Yeah?" He squeezes her waist quickly before spinning her around. "Like a guy in leather?"
"That's cheesy."
"You're blushing, though."
Before he lets her think about arguing, Billy pulls her up to straddle loosely around his hips, leaning back against the wall to catch her weight. She scrambled to lean against him, unsure hands grabbing awkwardly at his shoulders. He feels a brief sting from her nails and allows himself to continue tying the knot forming in his stomach.
Big hands settling on her hips to keep her glued to him, he laughs at her nervousness before pressing a kiss to one side of her neck.
"You're not gonna fall." Billy kisses her again, a little lower, and the tiny hitch she lets out instead of arguing adds another knot. Perfume was dabbed into her skin, something flowery and nearly faded from an hour ago.
After a couple more from him she has a fleeting moment of boldness and kisses him a couple times, leading from the corner of his lips to his jawline. He can feel her strawberry-colored lipstick smudge against his skin. So fucking cheesy but he doesn't bother wiping it off.
She shifts a little, pressing closer to his chest. He moves his hands closer to the bottoms of her hips so he can help her grind real slow against him.
"Mmm, yeah." He ignores her blush and scandalized little opening of her mouth, kissing her lips until there's a filthy wet sheen over their soft pinkness.
"We're outside!" She gasps between kisses, and he punishes her with another grind. Billy can feel his cock twitch in his jeans, thick fabric pushing down through his boxers.
"I don't care." He rolls her hips against his with each word, laughing when she tries to push against him to stop. Little hands on his pecs just made him want to do it again.
"We still have all our clothes on, baby. We aren't doing anythin' wrong." He pulls off his jacket with one hand at a time, making sure she didn't move off him. "For now."
He rubbed his thumb up her thigh, spreading her legs just a little more firmly around himself just press her further against his growing bulge. Her panties were thin as fuck and so warm where they fit against him. Then she rolled against him herself, and the breath that left his mouth was too fast.
"Shit, baby. See? You like it." He moves to kiss her neck again, enjoying the way her nails scratched slightly into his skin as she tightened her grip on his shirt.
She does it again, whimpering softly when she felt how hard he really was now. "Feels painful, Billy." She traced a little line along the seam of his jeans and Christ, he was really seeing stars now.
"Like it's hurting you?" He slid a hand down to idly rub at her thigh, stopping the grinding of her hips.
"No. Hurting you. It's so sensitive, and you're in denim."
"I'm not fucking sensitive." He slammed her hips back down on his to prove the point, then unzipped his jeans so the denim layer was gone from above his boxers. Now the outline of his aching cock was clearer, and she gladly palmed at it.
"Better?"
"Fuck off. Christ, you act so innocent and scared just to pull shit like that--" He bit back what would be an embarrassing groan as she palmed him again. He knew when a girl wanted him to shut up, so he kissed her and kissed her again until she had to take a breath.
“I’m s-sorr-“ He kissed her again.
“Hasn’t anyone told you to stop apologizing when you don’t need to?” He pulled her little hand back to his bulge, coaxing her to squeeze it just a little, his eyelids lowering.
“You get me so worked up. It’s fucking stupid.”
She leaned to press an angelic kiss—yes, angelic, that’s what it was—to his cheek before rolling her hips so her clothed little pussy could rub against his outline. He could feel the dampness of her panties now and the thought of how soaked that cunt was made his cock throb underneath her thighs.
He could feel her nails dig into him again, and he bucked his hips up into her. Another whine from her lips and he was doing it again.
"Gonna come just from this? Yeah? You don't want us to undress out here. Neighbors might see. So you better come. "
Billy was all but bouncing her now, rough, quick rocks of their bodies as he held her thighs tightly to push and pull her pretty cunt against his cock, the fierey friction of fabric quickly becoming an afterthought.
"Fuck, fuck!" He cursed in harmony with her sweet little sighs and whimpers, her face buried in his shoulder as best she could with all the movement. "S-slow down! Billy, mm!"
He could feel the slickness of her cum spreading through her panties, the sticky texture clinging to where it met his boxers. Jesus, she was so warm, cheeks pinker than a beach sunset and hands trembling instead of grasping.
He shushed her little erratic chokes for air after she came, ceasing their pace to a gentle roll. "That felt good, yeah?"
"Uh huh." She breathed out softly, watching him pull his cock out of his boxers and stroke it just three times before spilling all over her thighs.
"Yeah, it definitely did. " Billy whispered, keeping his breathing in control.
"You're so pretty. " She mumbled, kissing his throat.
"I'm not pretty, but you sure are." He laid his jacket to clean up her thighs while he tucked himself back in his pants.
a/n: i already miss him so much. this is an x reader if you squint, but I really just wanted to write about Steve.
warnings: season 5 spoilers !!, gn! reader, established relationship, actual acknowledgement of steve's trauma and insecurities (angst), suggestive material but not actual smut
-----☆----- 1329 words
His kids lost today.
Some team on the county border scored a home run on them--only the fourth game of the season too.
Derek took it especially hard. He always did. Steve had tried to explain to him that nobody could catch everything and that Derek should lighten up when it came to his weaknesses. Not that Steve could blame him; kid could barely help his friends when it really mattered. He understood that all too well.
Steve wanted to teach them that it was okay to take hits as long as you kept going. Figuring they could tell his heart wasn't as in it as it should be, he bought them all ice cream instead of dwelling on the loss. Five minutes, maybe, of sweet distraction before one of them cried into his mom's arms. Must be nice. He felt worse when she gave him a pitying look.
Coming home to dinner from his wonderful partner eased things a little. He ate it as he heard them in the shower, warm water running in the background to his shoveling of noodles into his mouth. Warm red sauce with slices of spicy sausage--this was his visit to heaven.
Then again, food was always a temporary remedy to his problems. Until it wasn't.
The first month or so after El died he could hardly eat any breakfast food. His partner still thought he had always hated waffles.
The water eventually stopped, and he could hear footsteps but never saw the outline of his beloved emerge. Bedroom, then. He stood up and stretched, familiar ache around his neck and shoulders returning as it always did when he was standing all day. Damn Russians. Or damn Demobats, whichever it was. Damn everything.
He washed his bowl and slipped it into the sink, metal cling of the fork reminding him of the nails on his bat.
"Did you see the food I left out? Was it still hot?"
His lover's voice pulled him from his thoughts, though who could blame him for dwelling on the shitshow that was his welcome party for adulthood?
"Yeah, angel. It was perfect, thank you."
They were bare when he walked into the bedroom, back turned, water droplets forming constellations on their shoulders and dripping down their chest. Gorgeous. He looked at them for a second too long before reaching to slide his palm up their side.
"Mmm, hi." They murmured as he ran his nose along the sweet curve right where their shoulder meets their neck.
"Hi." He kissed their shoulder and spun them around, both his hands smoothing down their hips.
"I really am sorry about the game. I take it the ice cream didn't really work?"
Steve took a hand off their body to scrub the heel of his palm across his face, big brown eyes closing briefly to hide just how somber his gaze had become.
"Not...not really." He sighed, pulling away to sink down on their bed. "I don't know how to make it better for them."
They sank down next to him, reaching to hold his hand. "Sometimes you can't, and that's okay."
"It's not, though. Sometimes I can't do anything and it means losing people."
He tried very hard not to think about Nancy and Barb at his party, or Robin high off the truth serum, or Max's closed eyes in the hospital bed, or Dustin's bleeding nose from Andy, or El--
"Steve."
His lover pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he turned his head just a little to look at them. His gaze was still far away, and he could hardly feel their fingers working to pry his knuckles open from where they were clutching the bedsheets.
"Let me help you feel better?" They kissed his jawline next, and he closed his eyes again before shaking his head.
"I'm just not...not in the mood. Not that you don't look great." He opened his eyes again to press a kiss to their throat before they both pulled away.
"That's fine, baby. I'll fix us a dessert while you shower."
He shot them a soft, grateful smile, letting it slide off his face when they stepped away to get dressed. Steve sat and stared at the floor until his partner presented him with clothes for after his shower. He barely registered taking them and slipping into the shower until the hot water reaching his back made him wince.
Steve was not a cry-in-the-shower kind of guy. Actually, the last time he probably cried was after the kids' graduation. He would probably cry when the last of his first little leaguers went off to high school. He would probably cry when everyone but him finally moved on from Hawkins.
Everyone said they could never move on. Robin would complain about her friends at Smith and how they were nowhere near as funny as he was (perhaps he was exaggerating) and how she felt she could never share anything they had all been through. He knew Nancy and Jonathan felt the same, but they still spent more time talking about their new cities than he liked.
New York really did sound nice. When more stores closed in Hawkins and the teachers got paid a little less he really did consider it--but then he would see the silver pathways stitching up the holes in the ground. He would see Karen Wheeler rub at her neck in the grocery store. He would see Mike taking out his trash can full of mostly blank paper and growing too thin in his yellow sweaters. He would hear music from the new Metallica album on the radio sometimes.
There was no more mess of vines and reddish hellish glow underneath the metal plates, but of course he remembered when there was.
Sometimes a kid on the other team got too loud, too rough with Derek and the kid would just freeze. He had told Steve what happened, why it took him months to start talking to Holly again after they were kidnapped. Steve figured Mrs. Byers hadn't hit Vecna quite hard enough with that axe.
And his partner was so lovely--kind and generous and beautiful and he loved to pretend everything was normal and play house with them. Long, sweet nights in their bed together and driving to different towns whenever a new restaurant opened up. But they had skipped town during the worst of it; could never really understand why Steve had cold sweat during the night and drove in odd circles to avoid passing by the remains of the MAC-Z.
He was grateful, really. Every day. But phone calls to Robin and drunk reminiscing about Nancy when he was alone was not enough.
They would move on, he worried sometimes. When they settled down and got promotions and forgot the names of the streets in Hawkins. When they would pass up returning for reunions and he had married his lover and bought a house all on his own and had a full-time teaching position. When Dustin got to work for NASA or whatever else he wanted to do and when Max named her first kid after her brother but raised him into a much better man.
His partner would let them stay in Hawkins, he knew, but everyone would always ask why. He could have taken his Dad's job, been something a little more. Jonathan would ask him to move in four times but Steve would always find a way to tell him no.
Steve turned the water off and blew out a long breath. He pushed aside the plastic curtain and looked at himself in the mirror--scars he claimed were from a car crash if anyone asked. He looked at the polaroid stuck to the glass of him and Dustin from the Snow Ball, making stupid faces in his Beemer and something in the back of his mind clicked.
He stayed because he had to make sure everyone got to grow up.
I was tagged by the amazing @luzerrante!
So, here goes!
Last Book: Blades of Damocles (Cato Sicarius being the brat that he is!!)
Last Song: I cannot begin to describe the song that's been on repeat for the past two days! And if someone knows the name, please, PLEASE let me know!! This thing won't LEAVE MY HEAD!!!!!
Last Movie: Dies Irae (It's a Malayalam Horror movie and was a moderately enjoyable watch. Though if I had to give you a suggestion, please… PLEASE watch "Bramayugam" from the same director… with subtitles if you must, but it is just chef's kiss)
Last Series: Dubai Bling (Let me tell you something! LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING!!… I was sick and wanted nothing more than to curl up and die as I was suffering from a stomach bug. And mindless reality TV was the only right answer!)
Salty or Sweet: Salty more than sweet… But the right answer is Sour!
Coffee or Tea: A strong cup of Masala Tea anyday, though I don't mind an occasional cup of coffee.
Working on: Oh boy…. at least seven different WIPs… I have started work on an Angron/healer OC fic just last week! I am fine… I am fine… I don't need sleep! Nuh uh! Lalalala!!!
And so, I tag @beckyninja @incrediblethirst @gh0st-nebulae @godzo @twentyplusinterestsinatrenchcoat @gravedwe11er @mehiwilldoitlater @myresin @blukitty40k and anyone who wants to do it! (No pressures! (✿◠ᴗ◠))
Last book: Devastation of Baal (and the devastation of my soul. Fuck, this one hurts)
Last song: The ballad of Lucy Gray Baird! Perfect singable song for me
Last movie: Wake up dead man, the knives out series. Pretty good!
Last series: watched a piece of the german show Dark with my bestie. It was alright
Salty or sweet: Oooh that's like putting a gun to my head, but alright. Sweet. Gimme that chocolate.
Coffee or tea: Coffee all the way. The nectar of life
Working on: Comus/Beta Bequin fic, some Sanguinius and his three favored sons bonding, art of my OCs Severin and Amsa that has been in limbo for like two weeks, a few other warhammer WIPs I've been plucking away at every now and then, and also circulating several concepts for more fics I want to write when I have finished allll this.
Tagging: @bunny-fair @remycantwrite @overlord-ajax and whoever else feels like doing this!
Last book: I am currently reading the third book in the Vorkosigan Saga, called the Warrior's Apprentice. The whole series is great, but so far I prefer the first two books.
Last Song: Change by Djo. No surprises there.
Last Movie: After Everything. Not very good, I only watched it for the literal two seconds of Joe Keery.
Last Series: I am rewatching A Series of Unfortunate Events with my siblings! Just as good as the first two times we watched it.
Salty or Sweet: I will always pick sweet. It's a problem, honestly.
Coffee or Tea: Both! I drink coffee much more often, but I love my Irish Breakfast Tea.
Working On: A Steve Harrington angst oneshot, the second part to my Cliche Billy Hargrove x reader, and something with Gator Tillman I have yet to fully flesh out. I would also like to go back to attempting to write a screenplay, but I am unsure of what yet.
is there an audience for gator tillman content...because boy do I have a lot of ideas. he's exactly the type of guys I match with on hinge just to feel a little bit of everything.
a/n: still coping with the show being over. this is horribly cringe but whatever.
warnings: female reader, reader is a girly girl, potentially OOC Billy POV, discussions of abuse from Neil, shotgunning smoke, steamy (literally) but not smut
-----☆----- 1623 words
Max didn't even look up as Billy passed her room with a bruise on his cheek. He figured she was used to Neil giving him bruises. Used to all the yelling. He would have just yelled at her too if she said anything.
He slammed his door shut knowing it probably made Susan wince somewhere in the house more than she had when Neil made contact with his skin. It took him three tries to set his Motley Crüe record properly in his player because his hands were fucking shaking like a pussy's. He hissed under his breath when he saw the record had got the slightest bit scratched against the side of the Pioneer.
"Live Wire" crackled through his shitty speakers, way too loud as usual, the sound buzzy and tinny as it pressed through the foam of the speakers. Lighting a cigarette, he takes several deep drags, none of which do anything to help calm him down. The glowing end of the cigarette reflects off his window, a tiny glowing dot against the night sky and the backlight of his dim bedroom.
Motion in the corner of his eye has him actually look out his window, into the window next door. The light in her room is soft and he would probably describe it as angelic if he believed any of that shit. She was reshelving books, careful to not knock off all of the little trinkets lining her shelves. Her window was open, and he knew if he opened his he would probably hear her humming along to Madonna. He clenched his fingers around his lighter and takes another drag of his cigarette.
Pretty girls next door don't deal with asshole fathers. They wore lacy little nightgowns and probably had straight As and had glossy pink lips that would look so pretty parted and--
He hated thinking about her.
Looking into her window his first night in Hawkins was almost too much. Billy didn't like shy girls. The warm glow of her room felt more like a blaring alarm in his skull trying to trick him into thinking that there could possibly be something worthwhile here. She even brought his whole family dinner the weekend they moved in because Susan hadn't set up the kitchen yet--pasta and the best garlic bread he had ever had. Reminded him of that Italian restaurant he would go to after surf competitions.
The guys at school all made lewd comments about her but claimed she was too inexperienced and shy to actually pursue. They probably would tell him it was luck that they were neighbors and ask what color underwear she changed into (white, sometimes pink).
She wasn't even his fucking type.
Billy didn't actually watch her often. Seeing her dance around her room or actually sit down and do her homework pissed him off. Sometimes she would sit at her vanity and do her makeup just to go to the library and he would smoke three cigarettes right after she swiped gloss onto her lips.
He coughed now just thinking about it, choking on his smoke. He cracked open the window a little and tapped the ash off the cigarette off the sill and into the night.
The creak of his window carried across the little alley between their houses and made her look up and meet his eyes. She gave a little wave and the tiniest, most breathtaking smile. It even reached her eyes, and for a second he almost coughed on his cigarette again. She leaned out on the windowsill, nightgown blowing just the faintest amount.
Pushing up the rest of the window, Billy sat against the sill, legs dangling outside. He blew smoke out in a stream that almost reached her face and she just waved it away without comment.
"Hi."
"Hey yourself."
Why the fuck was he doing this? The last time he had talked to her was almost a month ago when she complimented the wash he gave his car. Never mind that it had made him so hard he closed his blinds for almost a whole week afterwards.
"What happened to your cheek?" She asks so gently, leaning closer out the window. Billy crushes his cigarette in his hand, the burning end stinging the skin on his palm. He curses and lights another, wiping the ash on his hand off on his jeans and making the new welt ache more.
Instead of pressing, she gives him an apologetic look, pissing him off further. "Don't do that."
"Okay." she responds simply. He blows more smoke at her until she holds up a finger for him to wait. Shaking his head, he messes with his curls as she pulls away to rummage through her desk.
After a couple dozen seconds she slips out her window, lacy socks squelching in the wet lawn. She doesn't seem to mind, and holds out her hand. He just stares at it.
"Palm." she whispers, pretty eyes surprisingly defiant.
Billy reluctantly holds out his open hand, letting her stand between his legs and open a bottle of some kind of lotion. She applies it gently to the cigarette burn, hands so soft and small compared to his. It's not even the only scar he's got on that hand.
"It doesn't hurt that much. I've done that a lot." Billy's voice is rough.
She pouts just the slightest bit, glossed lips pressed together, and his hand clenches, pulling away from her touch. As she caps the bottle of cream he looks down at her nightgown again, shifting in the wind around her knees. He blows smoke in her face and she coughs.
"Never mind. Burn yourself all you want."
He laughs at that, surprising both of them. She looks out at the moon and he just looks at her before gently tugging her to sit down on his knee. Her wide gaze turns to him, questioning.
"Your socks are getting all ruined from the grass."
"Oh. Yeah. Thank you."
She adjusts herself in on his thigh, making his grip around her waist tighten briefly. Eventually she settles on just wrapping her arms around Billy's neck and he allows it without comment. He presses the cigarette to her lips and she hesitantly takes a drag before coughing all over him.
"Jesus. Was that your first time?"
"Obviously."
Smirking, he pulls her closer against his chest. "There's a different way we can try it, if you don't mind messing up your lip gloss."
"What? How would--oh. Um..." Her realization is so fucking cute, softening the edges of his mouth out of his frown. He takes a drag and holds it in, patient as she closes her eyes and parts those pretty lips.
He kisses her, arms around her tight as he blows the smoke into her mouth. Feeling her swallow it, he kissed her again to cut off her little cough. Shit, her lips were so warm. Her gloss was sticking to his dryer lips and he couldn't help but lick into her mouth to taste some of it.
Letting out the tiniest of whimpers, one of her hands reached up to curl into his hair and pull on it just a bit but more than enough to make him stiffen and kiss her again and again.
"Fuck, you taste so perfect. Cherry?" He murmured against her lips.
"Cherry c-cola." She looked dizzy, lips somehow beginning to look swollen just from a few kisses. Her grip loosened a little and he kissed the corner of her lips to keep her eyes on his.
"Did that taste any better?"
"Mhm."
"Use your words."
"It was better." She played a little with his hair, fingers still sunk into his curls. He decided it was the closest to believing in heaven as he'd ever get.
"Good. Can I do it again?" He took another drag as she let out a soft little "please" that shot straight through his dick.
She didn't cough this time and pulled on his hair a little more, really kissing him back this time. After she swallowed the smoke again, she sucked softly on his tongue, warm heat passing between their mouths. He shifted her so that she was straddling both of his thighs now, and she let out a soft little noise desperate when they parted for air.
"That w-was even better." She was clutching onto him so hard, lips still practically pressed to his.
"Second kiss is always better." He rubbed a hand up her side, feeling how tense she was. "Though I wasn't really planning on ever kissing you."
"Me either. I just...Well, you know you're hot. But you scare me a little."
"You scare me too." He jokes, running a hand through his hair. She giggles, and he has to look away to fight a smile. Billy took a couple of drags before the cigarette burned to the filter, flicking it onto the grass.
"You could start fires like that." Her whisper made him roll his eyes and kiss her to keep her quiet. She melted into it all the same, this time pressing her tongue into his mouth first. He allowed it in exchange for snaking a hand up her thigh, under the hem of her nightdress.
Rewarded with a whimper, he sucked on her tongue until she had to break away in soft pants. Her eyes were shiny. Probably a little overstimulated. He kissed her cheek, just under one eye, doing little to hide the smile forming on his lips.
"Are you a little better?" She asks so quietly, as if to not upset him. He stills, but nods after a long moment. That's all she's getting.
She smiles again, and he decides it was worth the answer after all.
warnings: female reader, probably OOC Billy POV, masturbation, slightly perverted Billy, actually really perverted Billy
-----☆----- 1120 words
Max wasn't home to get the doorbell, meaning he couldn't blast his new Poison tape. Meaning he had to be a little quieter than usual when he was jerking off that afternoon. Nobody else was in the house, but he couldn't risk some nosy neighbor listening to him groan into his pillow as he looked at the latest issue of High Society he stole from Tommy.
It was a good issue, too. Shauna Grant wasn't in it, but there was a blonde in the third photo spread with these fantastic long legs and a delicious ass. Had his cock pulsing in seconds.
It had been longer than usual since he'd had a good tug, since Neil was around home more for the holidays. He took his time, spitting across his fingers and just squeezing himself before he started stroking. He ended up bucking his hips into the mattress just a little--the pressure making his head light. Fuck, sometimes he swore his own hand was better than some easy, tight pussy.
Precum mixed with his spit, his dick so slick he had to speed up to chase the friction. He looked at the magazine page again, imagining his dick pumping into a sweet little ass. He really needed to find a girl that was willing to go back door. It'd been too long.
One hand fisted around the base of his cock, squeezing just the right amount as he rubbed himself against the mattress. It was a little more pathetic than hot but felt way too good and had him gritting his teeth to bite back a moan.
The doorbell had probably rung two or three times before he finally registered it and let out such an anguished growl, throwing the magazine across his room and jumping back into his jeans. The denim burned his flushed skin, his dick doing more than just tenting the fabric. He palmed himself with a huff, wincing at the pain.
Fuck.
He didn't bother to button the jeans--better to make this interruption a quick one. It was probably just Mormons or some package that needed to be signed for, but Jesus Christ was he pissed.
Unlocking the door took more focus than he had at the moment, fumbling for an extra few seconds that was probably agonizing for his dick.
He looked up from the doorknob and felt himself get hard all over again.
There was an angel on his porch. Prettiest girl in his shit neighborhood, probably. All of Hawkins, maybe. There was a fucking Christmas bow in her hair and he wanted to yank it out while he pushed his cock into her and watch her hair fall over her tits.
Damn, they really were nice tits.
"U-um. I made Christmas cookies for the block."
That soft little voice made his dick twitch.
She looked terrified to see him, and it probably didn't help that his jeans were low along his hips and his incredibly fucking obvious boner was pointing in her direction. But hell, her widened eyes looked so big and shiny. Prettiest deer in headlights he ever saw.
Her eyes dipped down to his jeans and he saw her forcefully look away, cheeks pink as he took the plate of perfectly-frosted cookies from her. Cream cheese frosting, some snickerdoodles, peppermint bark, all the works. It was so fucking cheesy but her fingers were so soft that he didn't even take the time to scoff.
"Thanks. Didn't even know you lived around here." He leaned against the door, trying to get some pressure against his hips.
"Y-yeah, um, I'm usually at work or reading."
Humming in acknowledgement, his gaze skimmed across her chest again. He could tell she noticed by the way she looked back at his body, up and down until his boner made her flustered again and she gave a little wave goodbye.
"See y-you. Hope you enjoy them." Voice still just as soft.
"Aw, alright. See you too, sweetheart."
Billy doesn't close the door as she turns down the driveway, watching her hips for just a little bit longer, hand already snaking itself down his shirt to press against the seam of his jeans.
He slammed the door shut when she turned the corner, immediately freeing himself from his jeans and hissing with relief at the feeling. He groaned, feeling just the slightest bit guilty as he stroked his cock a couple times. Setting the cookies down with his free hand, he tried to picture a faceless girl instead of you.
He let his jeans drop right there in the hall, head falling back against the front door as he felt himself twitch in his hand. There was more precum than when he had the magazine. No doubt about it he was seeing your pretty eyes every time he closed his.
He imagined you were the type of girl to easily get down on her knees, white embroidered pillow under your legs as you looked up at him with that wide, bright gaze. Soft lips and tongue eager to suck him off.
His free hand clenched into a fist and slammed against the door as he cursed under his breath, speeding up his strokes. It was embarrassing, really, how such a short interaction made him dizzy.
Her tits were probably so soft, just aching for him to pinch and squeeze them while he made her ride him on his lap. Not that she would do much work, no, he'd enjoy fucking up into her weeping little cunt.
Running a hand through his curls so roughly that they snagged on his fingers, he yanked on his cock so roughly he actually whined. Not even a second later he was coming, spilling over his hand and dripping onto the hallway tile.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck."
His chest was heaving like he had just done ten sets of reps instead of jerking off to some neighbor girl who couldn't even speak up. She was probably a virgin, too, and here he was losing his goddamn mind just because she was pretty and gave him cookies.
Two fingers gently massaged his cock until he felt cool enough to put back on his jeans. Never mind that he was still half-hard, he was too annoyed with himself to go another round.
Walking back into his bedroom, the copy of High Society greeted him on the floor from where he had thrown it earlier. He ripped it in two and shoved the pieces into a wastebasket. Too bad for Tommy. He sat back against his bed, closing his eyes and desperately trying to get the picture of you and that damn Christmas bow out of his mind.
tagging @americanwh0resstuff @devianta @dreamyhopes @peter-newkirks-smolder @anxiousmillenialhobo @yourfamilyfriendsatan and anyone else that sees this 😁
Oh hell naw. Alright, @dreamyhopes ... you asked for it! 😆
We actually do have a ton of snow here right now. So instead of unleashing my northern aggression on you all in snowball form, here's some frosty love instead ❄️🤍
@beckyninja @mehiwilldoitlater @twentyplusinterestsinatrenchcoat @godzo @incrediblethirst @vspin @gravedwe11er @myresin @gh0st-nebulae @luzerrante @artistapreguissosa (and probably a few innocent bystanders who are likely to get whacked in the face with that huge-ass snowball!)
Hah, I really loved snowball fights as a kid, and used to fight dirty (literally. Put tiny lumps of frozen dirt inside snowballs for a little extra oomph.)
No snow here now tho, so imagine me tossing a bunch of powdered sugar at yalls face /j
@remycantwrite get long distance snowed. And any others who want to participate
Relax (Steve Harrington x Inexperienced! Shy!Reader) ♨
a/n: me when joe keery !!! i have decided to abandon all my other responsibilities and devote my life to him. sorry to my boss. song this was inspired by is relax by frankie goes to hollywood !
warnings: afab reader, inexperienced and shy reader, lotta kissing, dry humping, fingering, premature ejaculation (?), crying from sex
-----☆----- 2024 words
Dating Steve Harrington came with far more patience than you expected. He let you reach for his hand first, on the third date too. He let you choose to nestle into his side when you watched a cozy movie or looked at the snow fall outside the window. He also let you lean in for the first kiss--calling it the gentlest peck he had ever received. He could get snappy after a long day, but you could tell he tried his hardest to make sure he never yelled at you.
And he never once had asked for sex.
"He really has changed," Robin had promised you before the first date. "He won't mind you being shy."
And then you had ran into Carol, some random afternoon at Melvald's. It had been a little after your fourth date with Steve, and you excitedly told her how great things were going. She seemed a little miffed and told you, in quite a clipped tone, that sooner or later all he was going to want to do was to fuck you.
"But we haven't yet. We only kissed a couple times."
"Oh, honey, you clearly don't know Steve."
Her words bothered you even now, when you were parked in Steve's car alongside your driveway. He was retelling some joke he heard from Robin, and it made you giggle despite your worries. This was what, the seventh date? Surely a guy would expect to be having regular sex at this point. Especially someone who had been with so many girls.
The sun dipped below the flat-as-fuck Hawkins horizon, turning the sky a darker orange than before. Steve looked at his watch and physically pouted.
"It's pretty late, I guess. We've been out for a while." He couldn't hide the slight despair in his voice and it made you smile softly.
"I don't really have anywhere to be. We could keep talking?" You offer softly, intertwining your fingers.
"Yeah?" He squeezed our fingers closer together, hope flicking across his brown eyes like a shooting star.
"Mhm. Unless you have other plan--"
"No! No. You're my plans. Uh, I mean, I have no other plans."
He looks so sheepish for a minute that you can't help but lean in and kiss him. He smiles into it, as usual, sighing softly.
Steve pulls away after just the quick kiss, but you kiss him again, one hand resting gently on his chest. He curls his fingers into your hair and returns each kiss eagerly. Your other hand comes up to tangle into the base of his scalp and he lets out a delicious noise.
It's awkward kissing side-by-side in a car, and you're both well aware of that. One more soft kiss to the corner of your mouth and Steve is helping you over the center console. It's not a graceful movement but he situates you on his lap like it was nothing, looking down as you nestle your thighs on either side of his hips. Perhaps he was going to finally press for something more than making out--what else would such a compromising position call for?
"You feel alright? Comfortable?" His voice was low, and he idly traces your thighs--a soothing afterthought.
"Mhm." You rest your arms around his neck, pressing yourselves closer together as he kisses the hollow of your throat, making your breath hitch.
"Fucking love that reaction. Are you okay with kissing a little more, honey?" Steve's hands come up to gently cup your sides.
You respond by pressing your lips to his, soft and languid. His tongue teases, lazily licking your lips as you let out a tiny whimper. Instead of stopping he kisses you again, hands tightening around your waist just slightly at each sound you make.
"You still taste like your ice cream." You murmur into his lips, and he smiles again.
"You too."
Steve kisses you again, and you finally let him slip his tongue into your mouth. This definitely means sex then, right? Sure, you've made out before, but the fact remained that you were on the seventh date and surely it was about damn time. The thought leaves your mind the second he makes a breathy little groan. You get lost in his mouth, tongue hot against yours and unsurprisingly persistent.
When you part to breathe you press your face shyly into his shoulder, dizzy and a little out of breath. You feel Steve press a kiss into your hair, his arms holding you close.
"I really like kissing you." He murmurs, tipping your face back up with his hand to press a quick kiss to your cheek. His fingers skate up and down your sides, sending tingles all over your body. He was so warm.
"I really like kissing you too." Curling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, you lean back in and kiss him just as slow as before. Steve reciprocates, kissing first your top lip and then the bottom one before licking back into your mouth.
His hips rock up just slightly in time with the motions of his tongue dancing with yours, and you can feel how hard he is even through the denim. So this was happening. But the next twitch of his hips leaves his tent brushing right against your core and you whimper into his mouth, eyes closing tight with pleasure.
"That feel okay?" He murmurs against your lips, his eyes closed and breathing as shaky as yours. You just nod weakly and tentatively roll your hips into a gentle grind back down on him. It feels so good that you momentarily curl your fingers into the front of his shirt. Both of you know full well how wet you are, warm and damp fabric meeting his jeans.
"Fuck, honey." Steve growls, long fingers moving down from your sides to grip your hips, pinkies resting on the upper underside of your thighs. He rolls his hips up again, definitely deliberate and then kisses your collarbone. it's a little wet, but he doesn't leave a mark.
"S-Steve-" You gasp sharply as he tugs a little on your waistband, all the friction clearly getting to him. The little furrow between his brows was hot.
"Mhm, sweetheart?" Steady fingers still immediately as his brown eyes meet yours, full of such care and want that you choke on your own tongue. He leans back a little more, letting his gaze roam over you. It always made you flustered when he was honestly turned on by you and let you know it. He always let you know it. Letting him down was going to be near impossible.
"I-I..." His thighs shift under you, pressing against your core briefly and it makes your eyes close. You feel weak, and Steve obviously takes the time to tease you a little.
He rubs your bottom lip with his thumb, voice gentle despite the decidedly un-gentlemanly flickers of desire in his eyes. "C'mon, use your words for me. You can do that, yeah?"
"I'm not ready to h-have sex with you y-yet." It comes out in a rush, your words pushing past your anxiety in an effort to voice your boundaries before it really is too late. Looking away immediately helps, but of course Steve gingerly tilts your face back in line with his gaze.
"Honey, I did not want our first time to be in my car. I wasn't gonna do that. And even if I was, it's still okay. We can just keep kissing. Or talking, even."
Any sort of teasing is gone from his gaze. This is one of the most serious expressions you've ever seen on him.
"But it's like the seventh date and you're really hard-" Steve silences you with a soft little kiss to the corner of your mouth.
"I am. And you're really wet. I can even take care of that if you want me to. But I didn't expect anything more, sweetheart. You can relax." He strokes a hand through your hair, eyes tender.
His hand circles your wrist and gently threads your fingers together. "But Carol said-" you start, only for him to kiss your knuckles, making you pause.
"Carol doesn't know shit. I'm not like that anymore. I know you. You deserve to be taken care of, not fucked after the first or even seventh date."
"But you need to get off, Steve-" He kisses each and every finger this time and then your mouth.
"The only person I want to get off is you, but only if you're comfortable. Is that clear?"
This was the serious voice he used when he Dustin was calling him panicked, when his dad stopped by to see how his "unconventional education" was doing, or when random customers teased him about Nancy Wheeler. He really meant it.
So you nod, heartbeat finally relaxing under his touch as his hands travel back down to your waistband. "Do you want this or not?" The same serious tone, the same little nod back.
"I said use your words, honey."
"I-I want you to get me off. Please."
"That wasn't so hard, see?"
One hand slips below the top of your panties and straight into your soaking folds while his other hand cradles the back of your neck, fingers twisting into your hair. You let out the first soft gasp as his middle finger pumps in and out of your cunt.
He swallows your noise by pulling you into a kiss by your hair, smiling as he feels your wet little cunt squeezing around his finger.
"This wet and yet you're so tight around just one, sweetheart. Does that feel good?" He sounds almost patronizing, and you just whimper softly as Steve speeds up his motions. He stops and shakes his head, curling his finger just slightly. "I said use your words."
"It feels good. Really good."
You're rewarded with two fingers now, closing your eyes and babbling into his shoulder as your hips twitch with each push and pull. "F-fuck." Steve only grins at your cursing and palms at your clit, earning a delicious whine he buries by bulldozing his tongue into your mouth.
Something hot blooms under your thighs, and the wet patch against the seam of his jeans lets you know it wasn't you. Steve lets out a rough little breath and distracts you by pushing in a third finger, your cunt aching with the stretch.
"Oh, oh f-fuck, no-" Thighs trembling, you try to still his wrist but you can't even properly grip it.
"Yes, honey, shh. It's okay. Come all over me. " Steve sounds so gentle and your cunt is aching so much that tears prick at your eyes. He kisses them gently away, as if he isn't pressing into your clit and fucking you so hard with his fingers and causing these tears in the first place.
He shushes you as he kisses each tear. "I know, I know...baby, it's okay."
One more palm to the clit and your hips roll into his hand, and you bite off a sob of his name and come all over his fingers. It's dizzying, spiraling, like he is causing you to fall but catching you all at the same time. Eyes shut tight and tears still threatening to fall, you press your face into his shoulder again as he gingerly pulls out of your weeping folds, finger by finger.
He doesn't lick them off like the guys do in the pornos. He just presses two of his fingers to your lips and then to his lips in a little kiss.
His free hand runs all the way through your hair, pulling gently against any tangles. "Was that okay? Feel satisfied? I didn't mean to come in my pants, promise." Steve kisses your forehead and you can feel him smile against your skin.
"Mhm, I liked it. I liked that you did that too." Nestling yourself more into his warmth, you smile when he chuckles.
"I'm glad I could help, honey. I promise we'll always go at your pace."
a/n: i just can't help myself when it comes to him. gift for @shes-an-odd-bird because i genuinely scroll through her account every single day without fail. her work is amazing and so are her vibes!
warnings: afab reader, doggy style unprotected sex, hair pulling, mention of bruises, finger sucking, basically no aftercare, semi-public sex??
-----☆----- 1284 words
It wasn't the most comfortable, fucking in a high school bathroom, but Billy had a way of making it feel exciting. Not romantic, no, you'd never fool yourself. Exciting.
You often forgot how large Billy's hands were--after all, he hardly ever deigned to hold yours. But here they were curved perfectly around your waist, his thumbs pressing the hardest into your skin in order to keep you bent over and in your place.
"Can feel you squeezing me. You close?" He murmured, thumbs pressing you down just a little more. Billy slowed down a little, something almost no guy understood to do once they hit the right spot.
He took one hand off to curl his fingers into the base of your scalp and pulled your head up and back by your hair, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It's not as gentle as it could be.
"F-fuck, Billy."
"Mm, dirty mouth." He releases his grip on your hair and slams all the way back into you. The necklace around his collarbone brushes against your back, the cold bite a contrast from your flushed skin.
He takes his time drawing out of your cunt, thumbs back to bruising your hips before he pushes back in, a slick snap that has you finally coming around him with a whine and a stuttering gasp.
The sound makes him take his hand off you again to over your mouth as he keeps fucking into you, riding out your orgasm until he's decided you've had enough. Two of his thick fingers shove their way into your mouth, twitching in time with the movements of his cock. You can hear the smile in his voice as your tongue gently licks and sucks them instead of letting out more embarrassing noises.
"Atta girl." He allows himself one more pound, bottoming out and staying there for a moment before he pulls his fingers from between your lips.
He slips his length out, the lack of his warmth leaving you shaking and still bent over as he strokes himself once, twice, three times so roughly you don't believe it could feel good. But he spills over in his hand with a sharp breath he cuts off, more of a huff than any real indication of pleasure. Still, it's always pretty to see him come--thick cock flushed and still half-hard even after ropes of release.
He's wiping himself up with toilet paper and zipping back up his jeans by the time you've finally stood all the way up, leaning against the tile wall.
He gives you a once-over, as leering as the look he gave you in the hall before this whole ordeal started. "Jesus, it cannot be that good."
"You always fuck me so dumb." You whisper, shy because your chest is still heaving and you feel a little lightheaded. He laughs, and it makes you feel a little better. Leaning down, he picks your panties off the floor and throws them at you, then lights his cigarette and refuses to look away while you redress.
You're still taking shallower breaths than usual as you dress, pausing to wipe yourself off a little bit and massage your hips with the tips of your fingers after you pull up your panties.
"You can walk, yeah? Didn't break anything?" Billy murmurs around his cigarette, helping adjust your top.
"Y-yeah. Just a little dizzy." Fidgeting with your hair, you accept him pressing the cigarette between your lips for a second to take a small drag. The bell rings, making you cough on the smoke.
"Well, straighten up already. I have basketball. Don't have time to play nurse." He flicks the cigarette away before you both wash your hands.
You fix your hair a little more, rebuttoning your top more properly. "I'll be okay. Bye, then." It's always better if you make it seem like you don't care that he's leaving.
"You're coming over tonight though, right?" He asks after a moment, fixing his own hair.
"No? I'm going out with my family to the movies. I told you that."
You watch his lips purse. "What about before that?"
"I don't have the car. I was gonna walk home." He watches you reapply your lipstick and the second you cap it he sidles up to you and kisses it right off, warm tongue winding its way into your mouth and licking idly against yours. After the kiss he smiles a little.
"Nap in my car then. I'll take you back to mine after practice."
You're still a little breathless from the kiss, and your brain is so fuzzy you can't say no. "K-kay."
Kissing you again, he takes a second to flip a piece of your hair in a wayward direction. Scowling, you look in the mirror to fix it while he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your shoulders.
"Keys are in the left pocket. Be good."
-----☆-----
"Wake up, sweetheart."
The familiar warmth of Billy's calloused fingers pressing into your shoulder shook you awake, your cheek pressed into the headrest of his passenger seat, his jacket enveloping you. It was still the same toasty temperature as his skin, even if it smelled like cigarettes more than his cologne.
He was sliding into the car, gently tangling his fingers into your hair as he pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth.
"Mm. How was practice?" You yawn, soft, watching him start the car as you fix your mussed hair.
"Fine. Same old bullshit. You better now? Nothing happen to my car?"
"Your baby's fine. " Giggling, you fidget with the sleeves of his jacket before reaching for his pack of cigarettes. You light one and press it gently between his lips, sleepy eyes on that perfect cupid's bow.
"Thanks." His voice is gruff but soft, betrayed by the way his gaze roams over you. You knew he always found something slightly erotic about the way you lit him cigarettes.
The second he's out of the parking lot you're going way too fast, rolling the windows down and giving up trying to have your hair any semblance of neat. The gorgeous navy car streaks into the wooded streets, smalltown houses a blur. Smoke rushes past Billy's face as he drives, gaze more on you than the road. Sometimes small whisps of it would collect in his curls before being whipped away by the speed.
"I have a new Metallica record. Wanna make out to it, kay?"
"'Kay. Good, um, good rhythm for that."
He pinches the cigarette between his fingers and plucks it from his lips to let out a quick bark of a laugh. "Sure, gorgeous. That's what I like to hear. You're so good all the time, you know?"
He says it in a tone that you interpret as mocking, making you flush in embarrassment. He notices your gaze flicking away from him and he lets out a huff.
"I like that. Relax."
"Alright, Billy."
It's quiet for a while, the wind loud enough to fill the silence. The fact that he didn't turn the radio on was telling. Maybe he did want to talk. Or maybe he was just tired from practice.
"You called me sweetheart, earlier. That's new." Your voice is a whisper, unsure about mentioning it.
Billy takes the time to stamp out the cigarette before replying.
"What about it?" His voice is surprisingly quiet despite its roughness.
"Nothing. I liked it." You twist a strand of hair around your fingers.
"Good to know."
His tone was indifferent, but you caught the hint of the left corner of his lips raising into the beginnings of a smile just before he pressed a new cigarette into his mouth.
origamiaround
annaxmalina
vaporwave
kianamaiart
discoholicmusic
andulkaphoto
janainaart
romaincrisis
