#genuinely not sure if he's supposed to be looking like he's wearing eyeliner in that scene

[langernameohnebedeutung]

S03E10 - Return of the Dead Guy

[abouttofillhisshoes]

You said some day we might - M.H x Reader // pt.3

A/N: This one's a bit NSFW (minors please don't interact), also angsty and sad at parts. TW for hard drugs, take care of yourselves! This is loosely based off of my own experience, and I am not trying to glamorize it. Ily my dearest @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for making sure it isnt shit xx

wc: 4k

part four

Picture a scene: flashing lights all around you, colors blinding as they move through the room, seemingly liquid. Music pounding in your head, almost as if it was trying to force its way into your body. People sweating, dancing up against strangers. You feel alive. 

Matty dances next to you, throwing his hands up into the air. You can hear screams as the music changes, now playing Britney Spears’ ‘Toxic’. He wouldn't admit it if you held a gun to his head, but he loves this song. Your hips sway to the beat, and you can feel arms on your waist. It's not Matty. The fuck? 

You didn't know this guy, but his hands were grabbing at you roughly like you were supposed to. His grin disgusted you. (Not so) politely shoving him off, you dance toward Matty, tapping his shoulder three separate times. That was code for ‘bathroom, now’. He nods, taking your hand and leading you towards the edge of the crowd. The sea of people thins out as you finally spot the glowing sign for the loo. 

“You alright?” He asks as you enter the bathroom. The walls were covered in graffiti, stickers, and the occasional phone number. There wasn't the classic smell of piss and sweat, which is why you liked Sound. It was fairly clean. The sinks were made of metal, and so was everything else. The lights were dim, and the mirrors dirty, lipstick stains adorning the edges. You can hear the faint noise of toilets flushing in the background. 

“I'm fine, I s’pose, just that guy was rubbing up against me all weird.” You fix your hair in the mirror, refreshing your eyeliner before passing it to Matty so he could do the same. You had taught him how to do it himself, saving you a load of time and effort whenever you were getting ready together. Tonight's color was red, both of you were wearing the same shade. 

The stall door flings open as a girl stumbles out, almost falling before she caught herself on the hand dryer. Fixing her bra strap, she wiped the edges of her mouth clean before reaching into her small blue handbag. Out comes a small baggie with white powder in it. You immediately recognise it. Blow. 

While you and Matty smoked copious amounts of weed, neither of you had ever tried anything harder. An exception was the occasional acid trip, and even that was a one off on Ross’ 18th birthday.  

Both you and Matty watch her intently as she starts cutting up lines on the edge of the sink, not caring that both your eyes were on her. She takes out a £5 note, rolling it before snorting the line. Her hair is wild as she lifts her head back up, turning to the mirror to fix it. 

“D’you fancy some, love? I have plenty for you,” she looks over to Matty, flashing him a smile  “and your friend, as well.” 

It takes you a split second to realize her statement was directed at you. Matty turns to make eye contact, before doing something you didn't expect. 

He nods, taking a step towards the girl. You do the same. ‘If you're going to try it’, you thought, trying to rationalize, ‘who better than with Matty?’

She shakes more of the powder onto the sink, cutting two lines for the both of you, and one more for herself. You notice the card she uses is a school I.D. A high school I.D.

She hands you the rolled up note first, and for some reason, you feel calm. ‘This is fine’ you repeat in your head, before opening your mouth to speak. 

“This is blow, yeah?” you ask, looking up at her from your position, which was currently hunched over the sink. It's cold, colder than it was. 

“Yeah, clean shit too, don't worry,” she offers a genuine smile, stroking your hair with her long, black nails. You steal a glance at Matty, who was now sitting on the sink next to you, watching closely. You nod, turning back to the line of white powder in front of you

You take a deep breath before snorting the line. It burns as it travels through your nostrils, and you don't feel anything for a second.

And then, it hits you. 

It hits you fast. Everything feels amplified, and you barely register as Matty snorts his. You feel good, euphoric even. Matty feels the same way, letting out a shout when he does lift his head from the sink. 

The girl was long gone when you exited the bathroom and reentered the crowd. You danced with Matty, the music controlling your movements. Deciding to get a drink, you drag him to the bar. The bartender looks you up and down, before shaking his head. He knew you were on something, but that wasn't a rarity in clubs like Sound. Everyone was on something, so, fuck it! Why couldn't you do the same?

Matty orders for you. A french martini and a glass of Malbec for him. The bartender raised his eyebrows at his drink order. “Who orders wine at a club?” he shouts over the music. Matty rolls his eyes before responding “I do! Why, d’you fancy buying me a drink when you get off?” he winks at him provocatively before taking the drinks from the counter. 

He hands you your drink, bringing his hand up to your face, wiping off the smudged makeup underneath your eyes. That's when you realize how hot it was. ‘Fucking hell’ you thought. ‘When did it get so hot? Jesus Christ, it's like I'm in a sauna’.

Matty had downed his glass of wine in two large gulps, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his your wine red jumper. You rake your eyes over his body, a thin layer of sweat shone on his forehead. His eyeliner was somehow still perfect. 

He was perfect. 

March, 2008 // two months earlier

The mid afternoon sun was beating down onto your skin. The blanket beneath you molding to the ridges of the earth, digging into your back. You were lying in a field, surrounded by daisies and dandelions blowing softly in the breeze, a half-empty packet of crisps on your left. Your arms were sprawled out to the side, with Matty lying peacefully on top of you.

Adam had situated himself on a flimsy fold up chair. He hated sitting on the ground with a burning passion. You had promptly forgiven him for leaving you to fend for yourselves that past weekend, seeing as he promised to pay club covers for a month as an apology. Just you though, seeing as Matty would have abused the ever living hell out of Hann’s wallet if given the chance. 

George and Ross were in the lake located a few dozen meters from where you were sitting, having a swim. The weather was uncharacteristically nice given that you were in Great Britain, land of miserable weather, so the five of you had set out for a makeshift picnic at the last minute. 

It wasnt aesthetically pleasing by any means, with fag packets litering the dirty old blanket Ross had found in an old closet. Ross’ beer bottles were lined up at the edge of the blanket. You grab a pack, presumably Georges, and light up. Marlboro golds, not your favorite, but they’ll do. Breathing in the smoke, you turn your head to get a better look at Matty, who was draped over you, using your chest as a pillow.  

You wore Mattys sunflower shirt, unbuttoned, revealing a black sports bra underneath. He, in turn, wore one of your tops. Specifically, a lavender baby tee with the words ‘dump him’ scrawled across the chest in white glitter. Adam was dressed like a divorced dad, beige linen trousers paired with a Metallica band shirt. You laughed when you saw him, knowing he’d be sweating in under an hour wearing that.

Soft music played in the background, the speaker having been lost underneath the pile of Ross and George's clothes. The air smelled of summer, even if it was only March. You spot the wine bottle in Mattys hand as he tilted his head up, taking a drink. You tap him on the arm, and he hands you the bottle. 

White wine? Matty rarely drank white wine. You brushed it off, it was probably just the cheapest thing at the store. Matty loved expensive red wine, but did not have the money to pay for it, always settling for the bottle with the lowest price tag. Your attention is drawn to George screaming incoherent curses at Ross for throwing a rock at him. Absolute knobheads. 

“D’you reckon we need sunscreen? I don't wanna age my skin anymore than it already has.” he asked, his fingers lingering on his face. His skin was perfect, not a single blemish tarnishing it. “I dunno, I don't think we need to. It's not that hot.” you answer, looking around you. “It's not looking like we have any anyway” you add. 

You could feel Mattys' breath on you, ghosting over your chest. His legs moved, brushing against yours. You were suddenly very aware of the fact he was laying on top of you. It made you feel hot, and not because of the sun. 

He rolled on top of you, now straddling your legs. He was clearly drunk, slurring his words. His eyes stared into yours with such an intensity, you would've thought he was trying to read your mind. His face was bare, but the glitter from last night's adventures still stained his face, giving him a slight shine.

A smile crept onto his face as he brushed his hair out of his face. The blonde highlights had slightly grown out by now, and you made a mental note to ask him if he wanted you to do his roots. 

“Didnt you want to cut my hair?” He asked, and you recognised that look in his eye. Excitement. He jumps up, crawling to get his bag.

“I brought a pair of scissors, d’you wanna cut it now?” He held up pink kitchen scissors, handing them to you as you moved to a sitting position.  

“Are you sure? These are not meant for ha-” “I don't careee, just do it!” he slurred, cutting you off and settling between your crossed legs. He turns and looks at you expectantly, and you sigh in defeat. 

You try your best, snipping away at his hair randomly. Cutting layers into his hair, you try to make the strands around his face shorter. He giggles as it tickles his face, brushing it off his skin. The sun made him appear as if he were glowing, painting him in an orange hue. Trying not to cut it too short, you tug at it to get a good idea of the length. 

A soft groan escapes Mattys mouth, and he tries to pass it off as a cough, avoiding your gaze. A few minutes later, you tug at it again. A little experiment , if you will. This time, the noise is slightly clearer, and his whole body twitches. He busies himself with the bottle of wine in his hands, inspecting the label.  

He admires your work in a little compact mirror you had found in your bag. “So.. do you like it? Or have I completely fucked your hair?” you ask, watching his reflection. Matty grins, slamming the mirror shut. 

“I love it! The layers make me look hot, so you did your job right!” He pulled you in for a hug, kissing all over your face: He was obviously drunker than you thought.

You lay back on your elbows, closing your eyes, letting the sun shine onto your skin. This was nice. You felt truly alive.

—---------------------------------------------------------

Skin against skin, soft moans filled the room. You didn't even know who they belonged to. Desire took over your bodies like a foreign force. The room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp just outside, illuminating the space. 

“Fuck- can I?” hands trailed down your chest, toying with the buttons of your shirt. You nod frantically, smashing his lips back against yours. You find his hair, pulling slightly as he lets out a pathetic whimper. You drink in the noise as if it was the very essence of life, tugging even harder at the curls. Curls. Matty.

“Mmh- ah, fuck-” You can feel him against your thigh. You can feel Matty grinding against you. The thought makes your head spin, and you throw your head back, your hair splayed over the baby blue pillows. Mattys pillows.   

“You're so- you’re so beautiful, just let me- i’ll-” he cuts himself off, trailing his lips down your jaw, leaving searing, hot kisses in his wake. His mouth makes contact with your collarbone, biting down. You hiss, your nails digging into his scalp. He groans. Matty

His rough hands rub the tattoo on your hip, you feel his rough calluses. You pull his hair, making him look at you. Your eyes rake over his face, the glitter around his eyes shimmering in the faint light. His hand comes up to push your shirt up, the material bunching up where his mouth had just been. You make eye contact again. 

He grins before licking one long stripe along the expanse of your ribcage, letting out an obscene moan as he did. He was putting on a show, for you. The noise goes straight to your core. 

His fingers snap the elastic of your black underwear, making you jump. A laugh. Teeth graze your hip bone, tracing the tattoo. You can feel him slipping the lace down your thighs, licking and sucking lower, lower, lower…

You jolt awake suddenly, hot sweat running down your back. You turn to look at the time. 2:53am. 

What the fuck was that?

You close your eyes, the dream replaying in your head. Lips, your lips and his. Teeth, kisses down your neck, Matty, Matty, Matty-

You stop yourself, shoving your face into a pillow. This can't be happening. This wasn't real. This was all hallucination and you didn't just have a wet dream involving your best mate. 

Letting out a groan, you lay back down facing the wall. You desperately, desperately needed a good lay. If it had come to you having fucking dreams about Matty of all people, you knew it was time to find a guy and just shag him. That would solve your little predicament, you were sure of it. 

—------------------------------------------------------------

Admiring yourself in the mirror, you hike the ruched material of your dress up even further. Jewelry covered you from head to toe, complimenting the details of your bag perfectly. Hair done up in curls, you knew you were ready. 

You were going out. Alone.

The heel of your shoe clicked nervously against the pavement as you queued, giving the bouncer, James, a nod as he waved you through. “No Matty today?” he questioned, referring to the fact that you were alone.  

“Yeah, I'm out alone tonight. Matty is… sick. The flu.” you lie through your teeth, not wanting to disclose the real reason behind your solo-mission. The plan was to find a guy, any guy, and forget about that godforsaken dream.  

The music was loud, even louder than usual, and you were stone cold sober. Not good. 

Making your way to the bar, you order your usual, a french martini. Tobias, the bartender, handed your drink, and you close out. You didn't want to get hammered tonight. 

Your fingers drum along to the beat as you sip your drink, scanning the crowd. There weren't many people dancing, seeing as it was a Sunday night. Most had work in the morning, so going out wasn't an option. He had asked you if you really didn't want anything else, even offering you a drink in the house. You politely decline with a shake of your head, assuring him it was alright.

Suddenly, a tall man appeared in your peripheral vision. You had seen him a few times before, wandering about, flirting with the female waitresses. Blonde hair, blue eyes. The complete opposite of Matty. His arm rested against the bar, and you could see him flexing his muscles. On purpose. Jesus.  

He strolled up to you with an air of confidence. Turning to Tobias, he asked him what your drink was. “A french martini,” he answered, looking you up and down “and she's only had one the entire night.” The man laughs, “Well that wont do! Let me buy you a drink sweetheart, on me.” 

You nod, turning to face him. A smile makes its way onto your lips. Perfect . 

He introduces himself as David. He works an office job down the road, something something marketing. You didn't really listen to him, only laughing when he paused, expecting it

He seemed solid, and he was 19, so not too old. You really didn't want to deal with another Phillip situation. He had bought you three, quite pricey, drinks, and you knew he wanted more. 

He eventually asked if you wanted to come back to his place for some wine. You agreed, letting yourself be led out of the club by your wrist. James winked at you knowingly as you left.

He had a silver Toyota, the interior a cream leather. It was a big difference to Hann’s beaten up red Kia, but you weren't complaining. He was nice enough, opening the car door for you. 

The inside of his flat reeked of sickly sweet vanilla and cheap cologne. He opened a bottle of wine for the both of you, pouring two glasses. The conversion was mundane, but he was nice enough. You had switched your phone off, not wanting anything to distract you from your mission. He had made a move to sit next to you, his hand trailing up your thigh, inching higher with every word he uttered.

His mouth was against your ear, whispering sweet nothings into it, his other hand finding your chest, pushing you down onto the sofa. You let him move you, twist you as he pleased. It didn't mean anything to you, you just needed to get Matty out of your head. Matty.

His hands were soft, like he moisturized them regularly. You could feel his lips on your chest, leaving bite marks and kisses, but you didn't feel anything. Closing your eyes, you decide to let him do all of the work. You had even worn your only pair of lace underwear, a black number with a little bow on the front of the matching bra. The same pair you had worn in the dream. 

You mentally curse yourself, kissing David deeper, harder than you did before. Forget, forget, forget. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

He wasn't the worst, but at least he tried. You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Laying on his (quite expensive looking) leather couch, you watch him as he gets dressed. He asks you if you need anything, and you answer with a shake of your head. You just wanted to leave. 

A phone buzzes, and you quickly realize it's yours. You pick it up, the screen lighting up. 3 missed calls from Matty, and 4 texts from him as well. 

// Where r you? I’m at your window. 

// Are you well? 

// Answer me for fucks sake, dont do this.

// I hope you’ve died or smth, you’re well fucking me off. 

You sigh, clicking the call button. It rings for a split second before Matty picks up. 

“Now you decide to ring me back? I thought you’d been picked up by a sex trafficker or something. Fuck you, honest,” his voice sounded worried, even tired, if you ignored the nature of his words. 

“Sorry mate, I was out.” You answer curtly, trying to keep your voice steady. Your fingers tap against the glass of the coffee table, and you hear Matty inhale sharply. 

“Out where? And why did it take me three calls and four messages to get a ring back?” he sounded more aggressive this time, and you could tell he had gotten up from wherever he was sitting. This pissed you off. Why does he have the right to know where you are, it didn’t concern him in the slightest, and he wasn't your father. You told him as much. 

“I was out, alright? I'm at David's place right now, and I'll be at yours in an hour, cool?” A moment of silence passes between you two before Matty spits out. “Whos the fuck is David?” The way he said his name made it sound like you had shagged his worst enemy, not some random guy. 

“He's just a bloke I met at Sound, I went to his place. D’you want me over or should I fuck off home?” The second option was just a courtesy, you were sure he’d want you over. You hadn’t seen each other since Friday. 

“Nah, it's alright, go home.” His voice sounded cold, unfeeling. A shudder made its way up your spine. He didn't sound like himself at all. What the fuck? “I have erm.. work to catch up on. You understand.” No you didnt fucking understand. 

You open your mouth to protest, but are rudely interrupted by a faint noise. The dial tone. Matty had hung up on you. Your mouth let out a gasp in disbelief. Fuck him. Fuck him all the way. 

You gather your things. While trying to find your shoes, David comes back into the room. You tell him you need to leave, and he tries to kiss you goodbye. It feels wrong. 

Deciding to walk barefoot, you do the walk of shame at 1 in the morning. Heels in one hand, your purse in the other, you trudge down the pavement. You feel dirty, like you did something inherently wrong.

Cars whizz by you, and you hear sirens in the background. It's cold, and you can feel goosebumps forming on your skin in the soft breeze. Feeling around for your cigarettes, you come across something small towards the bottom of your purse. You pull it out, your eyes widening at the sight. The lighter. Mattys lighter. 

The white letters on the side point and laugh at you. You can hear it. It was even more chipped than it was that night, how did it still work? M.H. Matty. 

In a fit of rage you chucked the lighter onto the ground in front of you. It splinters off, the metal top flying off onto the road. A car drives over it. You were angry. Angry at yourself for even going out alone. For going home with fucking David. You were angry at Matty for being angry at you. You didn't even understand why, but the mere fact he had hung up on you made your blood boil.

The lighter was now in pieces beneath your feet. The white letters, illegible. Feeling powerful, you decide to kick the rest of the plastic off onto the road, hoping a giant truck would run it over. You wanted Matty at your feet like this, pathetic and powerless. You needed him like this, to show him he can't just hang up on you like you're nothing. 

The mental image of Matty at your feet made warmth spread throughout your body. On his knees, looking up at you with glassy, glitter framed eyes. You wanted to take his beautiful hair and weave it between your fingers, forcing him to look up at you. You wanted to hear the pathetic whimpers escape his mouth, just like they did in your dream. 

You feel breathless, staring at the wet pavement where the lighter once was. You keep walking.   

[billys-pretty-babe]

We Were Just Kids, Babe

Pairing : Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary : You were the love of Billy's life, or at least that's what he always told you.

Warnings : swearing, little mentions of smut, drinking

Word Count : 2,802

A/N : there is a time skip, it'll be marked. inspired by loml by taylor swift

October 1985

Billy laid in your bed, his head in your lap as you scratched his head gently. "You're the love of my life, you know that? Once we leave this shitty town, we'll get married." You softly laughed before smiling down at him. "I love you." He smiled, "I love you too." His words were genuine, there was no reason for you to not trust him.

He relaxed against you; his skin was warm on yours as you pushed his hair back with each rake of your fingers. He rolled over, his forehead resting against your stomach as he kissed it through the shirt you were wearing. He moved his left arm from underneath him and wrapped it around your waist.

"Imagine little Hargrove babies." You softly laughed, "With your hair, that's the Hargrove look." He laughed and nodded, cuddling up to you a little more. He was still cautious, he still had some walls up, but they were rapidly crumbling each time he was with you.

His thumb rubbed over the material of the shirt before snaking under it to hold you a little tighter. "I'll never leave you, you're everything to me." You smiled and hummed at the warmth of his skin; it was a little cold in Hawkins, so you were grateful he ran hot. You were happy, truly and genuinely happy because everything felt right. Your boyfriend, your very first boyfriend wanted to marry you and have kids.

Months had passed and everything was rocky in the relationship. Billy didn't seem happy lately and you were starting to question if it was because of you. You racked your brain, trying to figure out if you had done something and came up with nothing. Maybe he was just having a hard time, that's what it had to be, right?

The look in his eyes never left, he still had love in them. You made sure every single time you saw him. The two of you had been together since November of 1984, so you had already been together for a little over a year.

It was unexpected. You had never cried in his room before, not even when you had sex for the first time. Hearing him cry about how he felt like he was falling out of love was enough for you to burst into tears. Your eyes were burning from the mascara and eyeliner, you did your best to hold it together, but you just couldn't.

He gently grabbed you, pulling you close to him as he held the back of your head to his chest as he pressed his lips to your head. "I'm still your friend, baby. I'm just in a bad spot right now and I can't give you everything I have. You're supposed to be my first priority. One day, okay?" You didn't answer him, holding your fingers behind his back as you took it all in.

You knew you couldn't be friends with him, not when he had kissed you so softly with love and passion, not when he had been inside you, and certainly not when you had professed your love to him for months.

May 1990

You smiled as you watched your younger brother walk across the stage at Hawkins High. You saw the familiar flash of red hair on the football field and your heart raced, starting to wonder if Billy had attended. You didn't think so, he and Max didn't get along. Your mom held onto your arm as she wiped her eyes gently to not mess up her makeup.

The graduates tossed their caps into the air and you smiled, remembering when you and Billy had done the same. You saw your brother go to Max, he always had a crush on her until they started dating their Junior year, Lucas and his family having moved because of Mr. Sinclair's job.

Your mom pouted her lip a little, watching the two of them as they walked through the gates hand-in-hand. The Hargrove-Mayfield family joined your family at your household. Your dad had asked the big question, "Neil, where's Billy?" Neil looked at your dad as he cracked the tab of the beer can.

"He'll be here soon. He got caught up at work. He works at that big mechanic shop in Indianapolis." Your dad hummed and nodded and nodded his head in your direction, "She goes to University of Indianapolis." Neil glanced at you as he softly hummed and nodded. He had liked you as Billy's girlfriend, he thought you could change him, but Billy didn't need changing in your eyes.

Susan looked at you, "Any boys at school, honey?" You softly laughed and shook your head, "No boys, just books." She softly laughed and nodded. "Smart girl you have on your hands," she said to your parents. They both nodded with pride. You walked into the garage, looking through the alcohol fridge as you heard a very familiar exhaust. You glanced out of the little windows, seeing the blue Camaro.

You gulped and grabbed one of your mom's wine coolers, grabbing a second one just in case. You walked into the house, "Billy's here," you said as your throat closed a little. You cleared it and walked to the cupboard, grabbing a cup as you poured both wine coolers into it. You threw the glasses away and took a sip before turning back to where everyone was in the dining room.

You had just walked into the room when there was a knock on the door. Your mom looked at your brother, "Go get the door." He opened his mouth to talk back, and she narrowed her eyes. He sighed and got up, brushing past you to get the door. You sat back down at your seat and sighed when the only empty chair was beside you.

Your brother opened the dining room door and held it open for Billy. He changed, not much but he looked manly. His mustache was full and not the same one he sported in high school. He had a stubbly beard along with more tattoos and he had a little hoop in his ear, the same one he used to wear when he was a lifeguard.

He looked at Max, patting her shoulder gently. "Congrats, I'm proud of you." She smiled and thanked him. You furrowed your brow, the last time you had seen the both of them, they couldn't stand each other. Something changed between them, you wondered what it was.

He greeted your parents before looking down at you in your wooden chair. He smiled, "Hey," he said. You gave him a half-smile before responding, "Hi." He sat beside you and you could smell his cologne and body wash. You recognized the scents, something you had bought him for his eighteenth birthday.

You got up, excusing yourself and Max looked at you just was the door shut. She got up, "I'll go check on her." Your mom nodded and she left the dining room, seeing you outside on the back porch swing. She walked outside and sat beside you. "What happened between you two," you asked her. She sighed, "After you guys broke up, he wasn't himself. He was nicer, he wasn't angry anymore. We did sibling stuff; I finally had a brother." You nodded, tapping your ring on the glass cup you were holding.

"Was the breakup bad?" You shrugged, "What's your definition of bad?" She sighed and nodded. "He fell out of love, that's what he told me." She nodded, rubbing your back. "He found out you were going to that school and found a job there. He was hoping you two would cross paths, he calls a lot.” That made you happy, that he always called Max.

The two of you stayed outside for a little while longer before walking inside as the doorbell rang. Your mom peeked her head out of the dining room, "That's the pizza." You nodded and opened the door, accepting the pizza from the man as you grabbed the money on the countertop. "The tip is at the top." The man smiled and nodded.

"Is that Billy Hargrove's car?" You raised a brow. He chuckled, "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Tommy Hagan, I hung around Billy in his junior year. I graduated that year." You hummed, "Yeah, I remember sorry." He softly laughed and nodded. "So, you two are still together?" You grimaced and shook your head, "No, it's my brother and Max's graduation that he's here for. We broke up a few years ago." He nodded and apologized.

"What's taking so long," Billy's voice asked as it got closer with his footsteps. You felt his body heat on your body when he came to the door. You handed the food to Max before following her inside to let them talk. Soon, he made his way back to the dining room and he sat down beside you again.

You all grabbed food and began eating. "Mom," you said. She turned to you with a smile. "I'm gonna eat outside, there's too many people in here." She nodded before turning back to Susan. You stood up and walked outside and sat at the small table, listening to the nighttime critters chirp and make sounds. The glass door shut at the chair across from you creaked under someone's weight. "You're avoiding me."

You looked up and wanted to cry. He looked like your Billy, but he was no longer your Billy. "I wonder why," you said as you picked apart the pizza. He sighed, "We were just kids, babe. We're adults now, I have my shit straight now." You hummed, poking at the pepperoni. "Please, just talk to me. I'll get down on my knees and beg if I have to." You scoffed, "Yeah right, Billy Hargrove begging?" He got up, his chair making a loud, ugly sound against the concrete. He wiped his hands on his jeans, and he stood before you, slowly sinking down to his knees.

"I am begging you to just talk to me. Tell me you hate me, tell me to fuck off. Just something directed at me." It had shocked you that he was here, on his knees. One thing with Billy, he really didn't beg for anything, but he was begging for you. "What do I say to the person who promised me everything and I got nothing?" He grabbed the chair behind him, pulling himself into it as he moved closer to you.

"I was dumb for doing what I did. I didn't fall out of love with you because if I fell out of love, I wouldn't have followed you to Indianapolis. I got scared because I made promises to you, and I didn't want them to be empty. We were eighteen, I couldn't give you any of that." You choked up a little, kicking your foot. "Billy, we didn't need to immediately get married and have kids. I was willing to wait for you." He nodded, "I know." You raised a brow and he put his thumb behind him.

"When I talk to Max your brother is usually there." You hummed and nodded, "Yeah, they're dating or something like that. I think they're testing the water." He groaned, "Great, another guy I have to watch out for." You laughed softly. He ate some of his pizza and took a sip of his beer.

"I miss you." Your heart stopped and you looked at him. "In what way?" He put his can down. "In every single way. I haven't been with anyone since we broke up." You nodded. "Have you?" You shook your head, "No." He nodded, moving a little closer to you, his jean-clad knee now was against your thigh.

"I think if you gave me a second chance we could get married before those little shits in there." You laughed, "We are not competing with our siblings to see who gets married first." He shrugged, taking another bite of his food. "One chance, that's all I'm asking and at the end of the night if you still hate me, just tell me to go fuck myself and I will." You sighed, "I don't hate you; I could never hate you. Not after everything we did together." He smirked, "Like what?" You rolled your eyes, "Shut up," you murmured. He snickered, taking a sip.

"One chance, I mean it. That's all you get." He nodded. "That's all I need, babe." He finished up his beer, "Did you drive here?" You shook your head, "My mom picked me up. The semester is over." He nodded, "Wanna hang out tomorrow then? I don't have work until Monday. We can do anything you want." You nodded, "Sure, B." He smiled before leaning in and kissing your cheek.

"I won't kiss you until you kiss me permission to so that'll have to do for now." You nodded and finished up your food before taking the plate inside as Billy followed you. You yawned softly, having a long day of travel. You peeked into the dining room, "I'm gonna go to bed." Your mom nodded, "Where's Billy?" You pointed behind you. She smiled and nodded and you went to your room.

He followed you and sat on your bed. You looked at him, "I don't remember inviting you in here." He rolled his eyes and laid down, "Shh, I'm tired too." You laughed, finding his old basketball shorts as you flung them at him. He walked into your bathroom. "Do you have an extra toothbrush?" You hummed, "I think it's in a box under my sink, near the Tampax box." You heard the cabinet door shut as the water ran.

You got undressed and put on different clothes. The air was humid so you made sure to put on something light that wouldn't stick to your skin very much. He walked out of the bathroom and laid on your bed. He was muscular but still soft looking and his happy trail was a lot fuller. You brushed your teeth before laying beside him. His arms were crossed behind his head as he looked at your ceiling.

"We fucked in this bed." You elbowed him in the ribs, and he laughed loudly. "It's true, multiple times too. I can still hear my children." You laughed, pushing him a little. It got quiet, a little too quiet for your comfort. "Hey Billy." He hummed, looking at you. "Please kiss me." He smiled and leaned towards you, holding your face as he kissed you softly.

You held onto him, your thumb running over his rib tattoo. His lips moved against yours as he rolled into you a little, needing you as close as possible. He pulled away first and you raised a brow before feeling it as you laughed. "It's natural." You laughed again at him defending his erection. He grumbled, putting his hand over your mouth.

You licked his palm, and he had no reaction, "Just feeding into the fire, babe." You snickered a little and you looked him in his eyes, seeing the same love you saw five years ago.

"What're you thinking about?" You hummed and he asked the question again. "Nothing, doesn't matter." He pursed his lips, "I'm not dumb. Tell me." Your fingers dug into his skin a little, just needing to feel that he was actually there. "Do you think we'll get married?" He smiled, "Maybe, I think so. Like I said earlier, we were kids. I think now that we're a little older we know what we want. I have a stable job that makes good money. You graduate next spring and once you do and we're together. We'll get a nice house in Indianapolis and a dog or cat, your choice, and then babies." You smiled and leaned into him.

His hand pulled you closer to him and you smiled, "You got more muscles." He laughed and nodded, "Kinda have to when you're picking up heavy car parts and tires and shit. Is it uncomfortable?" You shook your head as you rested it on his pec. "Not at all, you're soft when you're relaxed." He laughed and ran his calloused hand over your hair. He kissed right at your hairline, and you smiled, shutting your eyes.

"Go to sleep, we'll go get some breakfast when we wake up." You nodded, putting your leg on his hip and he reached down and grabbed under your knee, holding your leg on him. "Goodnight," you murmured. He smiled, "Goodnight, babe." You held onto him, cuddling with him just like you did in high school.

As you were drifting off to sleep you had one hope, that this would work because you wouldn't be able to go through the same heartbreak again.

[whiskeynwriting]

Limo sex after a party because Daddy Whiskey couldn’t wait til the hotel? 🥹 then continue at the hotel of course. 😉

Oh hell YES!!!

Out With the Old

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

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Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Alcohol consumption, mentions of reader’s hair, established relationship, size difference, jealousy, dirty talk, daddy kink (obviiiii), praise kink, spit kink, spanking, brief hair pulling, semi-public groping, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, brief cum play, mentions of bdsm dynamics

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A/N: So initially I was supposed to post “Life Is Better”, but “Out With the Old” got done first so enjoy this while I continue with “Life Is Better” lol. Ya girl is sick (yes AGAIN) so I’m trying my best. Hoping I get the second fic out to y’all tonight!

Lastly, this has not been beta-read. My apologies lol

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Daddycember '22 Masterlist

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Regardless of their true nature, their genuine brutality and extensive knowledge of sabotage and investigation, Statesman really knows how to throw a party. It’s like every year, they exceed your expectations and then some. After all, it was only an office holiday party, they didn’t need to go all-out, but they really loved to impress. Say what you want about Statesman, but these country boys have taste. 

“You almost ready, honey?” Jack hollers, securing his watch.

“Almost!” Comes your returning call, readying yourself in the hotel bathroom.

“The car’s here, sweetheart. We gotta go.” While shouting back, he simultaneously makes his way over to you. 

This year’s party was a city away from Louisville, about a two-hour drive. The hotel they booked was five-star with each of the agent’s rooms being paid off for the weekend. Due to the venue, a grand ballroom in the center of the city, Jack took you shopping the Friday before you left. He’d bought you a brand new gown for the event. Honestly though, even if the party were held at the office like it had been in years past, Jack still would’ve bought you a new dress. 

With your hair down and makeup done, you slide in the dangly earrings you’d chosen, finishing your look. The silver of your jewelry matches the bright sparkles on your gown, the midnight blue allowing you to wear the night sky as glitter twinkles throughout the fabric. Your heels are a similar dark shade, as well as the handkerchief on Jack’s suit. You were matching perfectly, those words proving true as you look into the reflection to see him standing behind you. 

“How long have you been standing there?” Grinning, you turn around, your lower back against the sink.

He shrugs, refusing to meet your eyeline as those warm orbs rake over your form. Smirking, he approaches you, one hand settling over the curve of your waist. Sighing, he shakes his head, licking his lower lip. 

“Why do you do this to me, honey?” 

Grinning, your hands lift to wrap around the back of his neck, thumbs stroking along his jawline. Now, he glances up, looking into your eyes. 

“You’re gonna make me act like a fool in front of my whole company.” 

A brief laugh escapes your lips, leaning in to brush your nose with his. “You act like a fool even when it’s just you and me.” 

“You got me there.” Swooping his other arm around your lower back, he pulls you in, closing the gap.

If there was one thing Jack was known for in your relationship, it was quickies. He snuck those in whenever he got the chance. Before weddings, before family outings, hell, even before dates where you were sure to get into it the second you got back. He didn’t matter where you were going or how long you’d been together, he always wanted you. But you weren’t going to let him have you tonight, not before the party. 

“Baby,” You insist, placing a hand on his chest to stop his frenzied kisses. “I just got done getting ready!” 

“Please, honey.” He begs, turning to kiss your cheek, your jawline, making his way to your neck. “Why don’t you make daddy happy?”

Mumbling against your skin, his hands slide down to your back, lowering to secure his fingers around your plump curves. “Look so good in this tight little dress…”

“As much as I’d like to do that,” You coo to him, grabbing his chin and lifting him to look at you. “We have a party to attend.”

“Just real quick?” He pouts, those puppy-dog eyes boring into you. 

“You guys have never been this fancy for your office holiday party.” You express, fingers stroking along his chin. “I don’t want you to mess up my makeup or dress.” 

“Fine.” He finally returns, now pouting fully. 

“C’mon, daddy.” Kissing his cheek, you stride toward your door. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.” 

Truthfully, you wanted to keep your appearance neat. You plan on enjoying tonight but in the back of your mind, there’s a pinch of worry. It’s no secret Jack used to flirt with his coworkers, sleeping with at least a handful of them. That was before you, of course, but still, they circle like vultures. You know that Jack sees you as his prized possession whether you were sick in sweats or dressed to the nines on a red carpet, but you wanted to show your best self to these women. Remind them that you’re here to stay, that they lost their chance with him. 

“It’s absolutely gorgeous!”

“Thank you, Maureen.” Smiling at the older woman, you find her to be incredibly refreshing. Some women at the company treated you like you were their own daughter, while others saw you as competition. 

“Did you want this cut?” She asks, gazing at your ring.

“Absolutely!” Maureen was at your wedding, but only at the reception. “Jack really knows me.”

Even though most of the women surrounding you had been at your wedding, they still fawn over your ring. It was quite glamorous, dazzling on your hand and distracting everyone in the nearest vicinity. 

“You should have seen her face when he put it on her finger.” Jess comments, grinning. “Everyone in that room was crying.” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you give her a half hug, letting your head rest on her shoulder. While other women take turns holding your hand to view your ring, your eyes wander the room, looking for your beloved. It still surprises you how eager they are to see the piece of jewelry. You and Jack weren’t exactly newlyweds anymore, but still, it was exciting. 

On the other side of the room is where you find him. Shocker, he’s at the bar. You’ve been here for thirty minutes and he’s already three shots in, surrounded by his own friends. But you don’t mind, you know he’ll order a limo to take the two of you home tonight. Plus, he’d already tended to you, kissing you on the cheek while handing you your favorite drink. He deserves to have fun with his friends, he shouldn’t always worry about caring for you. In fact, it’s nice to see him this way, relaxed and care-free. 

“You’re lucky to have him, honey.” Another woman comments, her face sour in expression when you look up at her. 

“Don’t I know it.” You respond, grinning sarcastically. She amuses you, grinning briefly and nodding. 

An ex of Jack’s, if she can even be called that. Do one-night stands count as exes? 

“Let me guess, a princess cut ring? For his princess?”

Tilting your head, you squint at her, grinning. “No, actually. It’s pear-shaped, and… Jack doesn’t call me his princess.” Laughing, you turn to Jess, rolling your eyes. 

“Just another bird.” She mutters, with you returning beneath your breath, “Always circling.” 

Her name is Miranda but you try not to directly address her. Even Maureen has gone out of her way to warn you about her. She’s a drama-starter, and not just when it comes to Jack. She’s the type of woman that expects a ring after a guy buys her a drink, ya know? The morning after she’d slept with Jack, she had the audacity to come into his office, demanding he take her out on a real date. She could take a class or two on how to approach a man. In fact… it looks like she’s taking a swing at that right now.

With your eyes glued to her frame, you watch as she turns, slowly approaching Jack. She makes a beeline for him, directly across the large room. And while you know she’s making her way over to talk to him, you don’t move. You know he can handle this. But lord, you wish you could be a fly on the wall near that conversation. 

“Jack!”

When he hears his name, he turns, surprised to see her. They haven’t spoken in months, not since Champ took the liberty of moving her desk away from Jack’s office. 

“Miranda…” He replies quietly, a little awkwardly. 

Shuffling between a few of his coworkers, she sets herself up to stand right beside him, smiling. It’s ironic she’s chosen now to stop by. Jack just got finished bragging about you. He’d been telling his closest friends about his beautiful wife, how happy he is by your side. Whether it’s your looks or your brains, your personality or your experience, Jack always found something to brag about when it came to you. He may have even been boasting about a holiday vacation he had planned for the two of you…

Turning to the bartender, she orders two shots. One for her and apparently… one for Jack.

“Your favorite, right?” She asks, handing him the small glass.

“Uh, yeah…” He grins, amused by this. Taking it from her hand, he lifts it briefly in thanks before downing it. She doesn’t even get a chance to take her own before Jack’s swallowed his and is turning away. 

“Wait,” Placing a hand on his shoulder, she pulls, turning him around. 

With a firm sigh, he questions, “Yeah?”

“I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding.”

Raising his brows, he settles an elbow against the bar, facing her.“Really?”

“Yeah,” She nods, reaching out to stroke his forearm. And you see her do it, your face going red from rage. But you keep your cool, waiting to see what he’ll do. 

“You looked so handsome in the pictures I saw.”

“Well, thanks.” He clears his throat, checking the time quickly. “Really, my wife’s the one that took everyone’s breath away.” 

“I’m sure.” She easily dismisses this. “You know, she’s been around for quite some time. How long has it been? Two and… five?”

“What?” Jack asks, confused as he furrows his brows. But then he sees her sliding something toward him. A small, square card. 

“Oh wait, that’s where I’m at.” She grins, watching him pick up the key to her room. “I’d love to see you again. Maybe later tonight?” 

At this, Jack fully laughs. Handing it back, he asks, “What? Are you an escort now?”

His coworkers had been holding their tongues but at this, they can’t help but laugh. And her face burns bright red. 

“Oh come on, Jack.” She replies, almost angrily. “You and I both know you get bored easily.” At her continuance, Jack’s smile fades, a stern expression replacing it. “Why don’t you shake things up a little, hm? You know what they say, out with the old…” Leaning forward, she takes one last shot, placing her hand over his own. “In with the new.” 

Jack’s eyebrows shoot sky-high again, smirking at this. She takes his reaction as him being interested, but he’s only responding this way because of her foolishness. Reaching forward, he picks up the glass of water he’d ordered when he first got to the bar, taking a brief sip of it to clear his throat. 

Smacking his lips, he returns his attention to her, his patience running thin. “Ain’t you the old one around here?” He then says, making her eyes widen. And he chuckles at this, pointing to her. “Remember you tried this whole act a few years ago, back before my sugar was even around.” 

You can see Jack pointing at her, smiling. And you have half a mind to walk over there when Champ suddenly tugs on your arm, pulling you aside. 

“Seems like you’re the old news.” Jack finishes with a wide grin. “Why don’t you go find somebody else to sleep with. My hands are pretty full tonight.” Lifting his left hand, he wiggles his fingers, that simple band shining beneath the bar’s overhead lights. With a jovial wink, he walks off, intent on finding you. 

Even though he didn’t show it, the way that woman spoke to him is making his blood fucking boil. How dare she push you aside like that? The literal love of his life, being excused by a woman who barely ever had him. He definitely wasn’t having that. But his rambling thoughts subside when he finds himself lost. He swears you were just here, surrounded by this group of women. 

“Jess,” He asks, walking over to her. “Where’d she go?”

Covering her laugh with the palm of her hand, she looks over at the dance floor, Jack’s gaze following along with her. And immediately, he groans. You gotta be shittin’ me. 

Low and behold, there you are, just a few feet away. On the dance floor, with a man that’s not him. Right now, you’re dancing with Champ, but not to upset Jack. He’d finally got the chance to pull you into his side, insisting that he have your hand for a dance. Champ was always such a flirt, and while you both knew he was harmless, the timing of Jack seeing this couldn’t be worse. He was already feeling protective over you, and now, that’s only amplified. 

The old tune you’re swaying to makes him sigh, rolling his eyes. He hasn’t even gotten the chance to dance with you tonight. You’re holding back an annoyed grin, but every now and then, a genuine smile slips through. And while Jack loves you and would do everything for you, he’s not going to make a scene in front of the entire company. So, he has to wait, unfortunately. 

But while he watches you dance, he sees how gorgeous you truly are. Not that he didn’t see it every day, but it was almost like he’s gotten the opportunity to see you through other people’s eyes. And lord, you truly are a sight. The way you move gracefully across the floor, the way you keep a beat so easily, and the way you grin when Champ laughs that big belly chuckle makes Jack head swim with sin. 

“Hey, baby!” Finally, your dance has come to an end. And if Jack weren’t here to distract you, Champ might’ve stolen a kiss on your hand. 

“Come here,” Jack mutters, grabbing your hand. 

“Babe?” You ask, concern coloring your features. 

Another thing Jack was known for in your relationship? Pulling you into bathrooms.

“Why the fuck were you dancing with him?” He asks, turning to face you once locking the door behind him.

“I dunno,” Shrugging, you grin while he backs you up to a wall. “He just pulled me aside and, babe, he’s your boss. I didn’t want to outwardly say no to him.” 

Truthfully, Jack isn’t mad at you. There’s just a flurry of emotions twisting inside him. And you know this. 

Almost as soon as your back is against the wall, he’s feeling you, hands groping your form. Palms run over the curve of your waist, fingers grab at your backside and chest, and already, he’s breathing heavy.

“What’s got you all riled up, huh?” Grinning, you hold the back of his head, watching as he mouths at your chest. Incessant fingers pull at your neckline, revealing more of your plump skin. 

Through a heavy sigh, he releases some of his frustration. “I don’t want you dancin’ with him again.” Swallowing thickly, he then tells you, “I know sooner or later he’ll try to sneak in a grab.” 

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Lifting his head, he leans in, kissing you. Those plush lips press firmly to your own, a quick breath forced out through his nose. “And I’m not lettin’ anybody touch you.” 

“Oh yeah?” You tease, “Even though Miranda touched you?”

The way Jack clenches his jaw is visible, releasing another sigh. “I don’t want to speak ill of a woman,” He begins, shaking his head. “But she really tested my patience.”

“Really?”

Leaning in, Jack mouths at your ear, his hand lifting to the back of your head. Dipping lower, his mouth sucks on your neck, pelvis grinding into your hips as he says, “You think I’d let any woman approach me now that I have you?” 

Grinning, a certain heat runs to your face. You’re flattered by him. 

“Oh, baby…” He moans, pawing at your ass. “Please let me have you.” If he thought it was challenging to reject his arousal on the way here, it’s nothing compared to now. He fucking needs you, can’t keep himself away from you. 

“You really want me that bad, huh, daddy?” And just like that, he’s whining, head dropping back down to your chest. He always liked to mouth at your tits while he begged. 

“Sweetheart, you’re so pretty. You’re such an angel, baby.” He expresses, clearly inebriated and fawning over you, per usual. “All those women out there? They’re jealous of you.”

“They’re jealous because I have you.” 

“Baby girl, you know -” Panting above your chest, he groans, licking the valley between your breasts. “You know I belong to you.”

The way he says it makes a pang of arousal shoot through you, your head tilting back with a quiet moan. 

“And they know it, too. You know what I told her, you cute thing?” Jack’s voice dips when he says this, hugging your body to his. “I told her you’re my girl, my wife, my everything.”

If there was one thing for certain, it was that Jack is entirely, wholeheartedly, and genuinely, devoted to you. 

“Really?” Lifting his face from your chest, you look into his eyes lovingly. 

“Of course, baby.” His lips return then, tongue sliding into your mouth and running across your own. He tastes like bourbon and lemon, the fruit must have been in his drink.

One arm stays looped around your lower back while the other rises to your face, holding your jaw open for him. While licking inside, he groans, feeling one of your hands slither between your bodies. You’re stroking him through his pants, tongue tangling with his. But suddenly, you jump, body jolting from the sound of booming laughter back in the ballroom.

“Baby,” Breathing heavily against him, he’s still kissing you, mouthing at the corner of your lips and then your cheek and chin. 

Groaning, he begs one more time. “At least let me have a sneak peak.”

“We can have some fun in the limo, baby. I promise.” But that’s not good enough for him, evidenced by his high whine. “We have to go back!” You respond through a full laugh, genuinely enjoying his attention. 

“Do we?” He’s sucking on your tits again, trying desperately to free them. 

“They’re gonna know we’re gone.”

“Why don’t we just leave?” He then suggests, those warm and affectionate eyes return to your own. They’re full of lust and excitement, and he grins when he says, “Just like our weddin’ night,” Brushing his hand along your cheek, eyes dipping down to admire your lips. “Remember?” 

It takes little to no convincing for you to agree, Jack hauling you off the wall and grabbing your hand. 

Surprisingly, it’s an easy escape, the two of you making it to the elevator easily. Your hand is in his the entire time, his fingers secured around you. When the elevator doors close, you expect him to be on you, pushing you up against the wall and covering you in kisses. But this time, he does something different. 

Gentle lust takes over his mind, his adoration for you truly shining through. Turning, he wraps his arms around your midsection, pulling you into a hug. His handsome face rests in the crook of your neck, humming when he feels you lean into him. 

Mumbling your name, he holds you a little tighter in his arms. And while placing tender kisses on your neck, he sighs dreamily. “You’re the love of my life, babycakes.” 

The ride back to the hotel is full of nothing but passionate touches and tender moans. Jack is clearly drunk and babbling praise, brushing your hair aside as he watches you. As soon as the two of you climbed inside, you settled on your knees, wanting to please him. And obviously, he had no complaints. 

“Babycakes…” He moans, watching you undo the belt and zipper on his pants. 

“You are mine, daddy.” Comes your lovely voice, your sweet response. Reaching in, you find what you were stroking back in the bathroom. “Fuck, I love you…”

He doesn’t even have time to respond before you’re licking up the length of him, erection throbbing in your small hand. When you get to his tip, you swirl your tongue around it, sucking it inside and releasing it with a small pop. 

“Baby,” Reaching forward, he puts both palms on either side of your face. “Come here, come here, sweet pea.” 

Leaning up, you move with him, allowing him to bring you in. By the way he’s looking at your mouth, you know what he wants, and immediately open up. Quickly, he spits into your mouth, thumb coming up to rub the wetness of it on your tongue. And then, he does it again, earning a small mewl from the back of your throat. 

“You’re precious,” He grins, hearing your little purr. But then his eyes travel lower, witnessing the rapid movement of your chest. “Take them out.”

Swallowing, you gasp when he reaches for your breasts. “What?”

“Take your tits out, right fuckin’ now.” His hands are fumbling over the neckline of your dress, fingers dipping over the edge and yanking your dress down. You let them plop out of the top of your gown, looking up at him with pretty eyes and a cute smile. “Fuck yes…” He’s mesmerized, leaning forward with thick and heavy breaths as he says, “Let daddy spit on them.” 

And without another word, he does, swirling his tongue around in his mouth before the wetness of his saliva coats your chest. He uses his thumb to drag it across your chest, rubbing it into your nipples. The way he does it makes you whine, both of you looking down to watch him. And while he plays, you fucking ache, the space between your legs throbbing for him.

Grabbing your tits with both hands, he kneads them firmly before making eye contact. “These are mine.” He tells you. “Understand?”

Nodding quickly, you respond with, “Yes. Yes daddy, I understand.” 

At that, he can’t help but bring you in for a heated kiss. His hand on the back of your neck pulls you close, lips meeting briefly because it’s really all teeth and tongue. He’s swapping spit with you, his tongue exploring you, before he’s yanking you back and shoving you down to your knees again.

“Put me back in your mouth, honey.” Shuffling back, he shifts his hips closer to you, one hand holding his base with the other on the back of your head. 

Doing as he says, you lower yourself again, eyes closing as you engulf him. In one smooth slide, he’s hitting the back of your throat, hips shaking as he feels you moan. 

“Look at that, look at your pretty face taking my cock.” He’s huffing out hot breaths, jaw open as he stares. With both hands he holds your face, stroking your hair while you drool over his lap. 

You stay here for a while, his cock seated so deep in your throat that your chin is laying over his balls. He admires how well you take him, how you rarely cease to swallow him whole. Fisting your hair, he moves you back, bobbing your head, languidly sliding your mouth along his girth. Honestly, watching you go down on him was one of the sexiest things he could fathom. Seeing the love of his life, his wife, suck on his cock, watching your pretty lips envelope him, feeling your drool spill over his skin… that’s really what did it for him. 

It takes about thirty minutes to get back to the hotel, and if you had it your way, Jack could have cum twice by then. But to your surprise, he takes things slow, not wanting to release just yet.

“Lick my balls, baby.” Immediately moving down, you complete his request, mouthing at him. “Jesus…” Closing his eyes, he tosses his head back. “Love when you do that.”

Glancing up, you make eye contact when he lowers his head. It makes him suck in a sharp gasp, the sight of it. While your mouth sucks on his scrotum, your hand jerks him off. Smooth and lazy tugs are what you give, squeezing his tip every time you get to it. 

“Fuck,” Shaking his head, he reaches down again, fingers brushing through your beautiful hair. “You know, baby, daddy has a present for you.”

“A present? Really?” You ask, almost giddy.

“Mhm,” He nods, grinning. “I’ll tell you when we, when…” His mouth drops open again, feeling your talented lips drag over him. And then, you spit, watching it roll down his scrotum before witnessing you lick it up again. “Fuck.”

“My present, daddy?”

“At the hotel.” He swallows, head falling back once again. “I’ll tell you about it at the hotel.” 

But he’s barely even able to get it out. When the car parks, you’re both stumbling up to your room, Jack closing and locking the door behind you. He’s already shrugging off his outer jacket when he turns to face you, smiling in his tipsy state as he watches you lay on the bed. 

“Oh, baby…” While walking over to you, he undoes his tie, eyes raking over your form. “I don’t know if you’ve ever done that for me.”

“What?” Tilting your head to the side, you glance up at him, connecting your lips when he’s close enough for it. 

“Blown me in a limousine.” He’s smiling wildly, sliding the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

“Yeah?” Giggling quietly, you watch his eyes get lost as he gazes at your smooth skin. “Does that mean I get to know about my surprise?”

Without missing a beat, Jack tells you, “I’m taking you to Italy.”

“What?” Sitting up a bit straighter in shock, you absentmindedly push him back. “Really?!”

With a firm hand, he shoves you down on the bed, earning a surprised huff from your pretty lips. Now, he’s yanking the fabric down your body, mouth returning to your chest. 

“Are you serious?” You further pry, eyes following the movements of his large hands as he undresses you. The only thing beneath your dress was a black thong, and he slipped that off in a heartbeat. In less than ten seconds, you’re completely naked for him. 

“As a heart attack, honey bee.”

“Daddy!” It’s a happy squeal, that beautiful smile returning. 

“You know how I love to spoil you, baby.” Both hands are on your breasts, his covered pelvis grinding into your naked sex.

“Oh my gosh! When are we going?! Where?! For how long?!”

Lifting himself with a grunt, he sighs, looking into your eyes. “We’ll be gone for the holidays, babycakes…” And then he leans down, pressing his lips tenderly along your neck. “For a little over a week.” 

“Baby, I’m so excited!” You can’t seem to get over this, can’t seem to pull yourself back to your lustful, dreamy state that Jack is still very much in. 

“Yeah? Too excited to show me some love?” Jack asks, his voice dipping low while he nibbles on your earlobe. That seems to be all you need. 

Turning your head, you meet his lips, feeling his tongue dive inside. He rubs it over your own, deeply, sensually, his heated breaths picking up their pace. His hands leave you then, moving to unbutton his dress shirt and shove it off his torso. His belt is next, and then his pants, kicking off his socks and quickly crawling on top of you. 

“Can I have you now, sweet cheeks?” He asks, kissing along your jaw. “Please?”

“Yes, daddy. Yes, please.” Reaching up, you hold his gorgeous face, fingers sliding through his mocha-toned hair. 

By the way he’s been begging for you practically all night, you expect him to take you right here, to slide into you in one thrust. But he doesn’t. 

“Turn around,” Already, his hands are on your hips, moving you. “Get your hips in the air.” 

Usually, when Jack was drunk, he was lovey. He was sweet and soft and giggly, and every time you saw him like that, it made you melt. But that’s not how he seems to be tonight. Tonight, it’s like he needs you; needs to feel you beneath his body, melting from his touch, screaming his name and crying pleasurably from his love. 

“You’re already so wet, baby.” Running a finger up your slit, he sighs. “That’s what I like to see.”

“I know, daddy.” Your face is already pressed into the covers, resting down on your forearms with your hips up high for him. “I loved it…”

“Loved what, honey?” He’s situating himself behind you, resting on his knees and smoothing his palms over your ass.

“Sucking you off,” Releasing a breath, you whine. “Back in the limo.”

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” Further behind your bent form, he’s grinning, running his tip over your sex. “Maybe you should treat me to it more often.” 

Immediately, your first thought is, well, how often are we in a limousine? But you can’t even get the words out before he’s audibly spitting and pushing himself into you. It makes you gasp, the force he uses, bottoming out inside you with only one thrust. 

“Fuck!” Tossing his head back, he sighs, dominant hand smacking your outer thigh. “You’re always so warm for me, sweetheart. So warm and tight.” 

The same hand he used to smack you smoothes over your back, applying pressure to keep you down as he shifts his hips back. “So inviting… just begging me to slide inside.”

“Daddy,” Already, your fingers are reaching for the sheets, walls pulsing around the intrusion of him. No matter how many times you take him, you’re always surprised by his strength, his girth, and the way he uses it with you. 

When he hears your little whine, instead of slowing down, it only makes him more feral inside. Within his first five thrusts, his hips are slapping against your ass, one of your hands reaching behind to scratch at his thigh. 

“F-Fuck, baby!” Gasping into the sheets, you feel his tip punch against that sweet spot inside. He’s gotten too good at finding it. “Slow down, please. Oh my god, slow down, baby.” 

Shushing you, he says through hurried breaths, “It’s fine, baby. You’re fine…” 

Diving into you even harder, he punches the breath from your lungs, rocking the bed from his force. Swatting your hand away, he secures both of his to your hips, fingers digging in. Looking down, he watches your beautiful curves bounce against him, 

“You need to use your safe word, sweet thing?”

Not even a second goes by before you’re saying, “No! No, daddy. No, I love it…”

“Yeah,” He grins, shaking his head. “I had a feeling you did.”

His pelvis is still wet from the slobber you left on his cock, aiding in the smooth slide of his thrusts. And even though you didn’t get a chance to see his naked body tonight, feeling it is just as thrilling if not more. His hands never leave your skin, roaming your curves and caressing the dips along your hips. His thighs press into the backs of your own, warm and sturdy and firm, just like they’ve always been. And he’s using the strength of them to pound you into the mattress, shoving your plaint form further down beneath him. Protecting you, owning you, and he wishes all those women could see it. He wishes Champ could see it, too. 

“Don’t dance with him again.” Hauling you up, he presses your back to his chest, securing an arm around your midsection. Turning his head, he sucks on your neck, groaning when your hips roll back against him. 

“Champ?”

“Don’t say that fucker’s name while we’re in bed.” 

“Okay, daddy.” Nodding, you let your head drop to the side, licking your lower lips as he reaches down to rub your clit. 

“I needed you, babycakes. Needed you so bad tonight.” Brows folding up in the middle, he whines against you, grinding his hips into your backside. 

“I know you did, baby.” Reaching around, your hand finds his hair, fingers combing through his locks. 

“I’m sorry babycakes, daddy just can’t help himself around you.”

“Oh, fuck… I love it.” You feel like you could collapse, feeling him surround you like this, feeling him claim your very being all over again. “I love it, I love how fucking feral you are for me.” Rolling your eyes back, you inhale a large breath, trying to steady yourself by grabbing onto the forearm wrapped around your midsection. 

“Huh, that’s quite the sentence, sugar peach. I must not be fuckin’ you hard enough.” 

Releasing you of his hold, he shoves you down again, intent on making you delirious from his influence. Like he never missed a beat, he’s shoving himself into you again, both hands gripping your cheeks before his dominant hand spanks one of them. 

Honestly, you’re shocked, genuinely shocked that he still has his wits about him to this degree. When you got back to your hotel room, you thought you’d ride him, make him cum inside you while you kissed all over his cheeks. But hell, you’re fine with this too, more than fine with it. To see those women look at Jack like he was a prize to be won made you furious. But knowing this is what he had in store for you later in the night made those immature worries fizzle away. He really is yours, for eternity. 

“Fuck,” He spits out. “You’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

You hum happily at this, a lazy smile forming on your blissed-out face. “Already?”

“Jesus Christ,” His heart is pounding, he’s already sweating. “You have such a tight little hole.” 

You wish so desperately that you could see his handsome face, stroke his clean jawline and look into his eyes while he spilled inside. But honestly, you’re too love-drunk to even comprehend doing that right now. All you can do is let go, let go and allow yourself to feel the wonderful sensations he gives to you. It’s almost like you’re numb, the euphoria completely overpowering you.

“I want it,” Comes your dreamy sigh. “Want your cum, daddy.”

Rapidly, he nods, his jaw dropping. He can feel your heated walls squeezing around him, can feel your sex sucking him back inside every time he leaves, even for only a second. “Daddy-Daddy’s gonna cum, okay?”

“Okay,” Comes your muffled cry, face still buried in the sheets. 

Your husband thinks back to the way Champ held you while you danced, his hand in yours with the other on your lower back. The fucking nerve of that man. If only he knew what Jack did to you, what he could make you do. If only he could see you right now, calling out for your daddy, begging for him to fill your insides. But he already let one man see you like this, and he’s never doing that again. 

“Where do you want daddy’s cum, angel?” He knows where you want it, he just needs to hear you say it. “Do you want it inside? Do you want daddy’s cum inside your pretty little pussy?”

“Yes, yes please.” Rocking back against him, you’re both verbally and physically begging for his release. Not that you wanted this to end, honestly, you’ll probably ask him to go again. “Inside me…” 

“Fuck.” Whiskey repeats, his head and body absolutely swimming in ecstasy. Blunt fingernails trail down your back, the red marks he leaves making him grin. His other hand stays glued to your hip, allowing him to steady himself as he loses the fluid pace he’d originally created. 

“Yeah baby,” He then huffs out, his tip throbbing against your deepest parts. “Take my cum, babycakes.” His entire body jolts, leaning over you as he groans. “Gonna gi – gonna give you all of it. All of it.”

His hips stutter, his delirious moan bursting out from his chest and through those pillowy-soft lips. And you’re whining into the sheets, writhing beneath the heavy weight of him as he presses into you. 

“Honey, I’m so sorry.”

His words make you frown. Inhaling a breath, you turn your head. “For what, baby?”

“I didn’t,” And then he takes a second to breathe, swallowing. “I didn’t make you cum.” 

“Baby, it’s -”

“Let me do it on my tongue.” 

“Daddy,” He’s sliding out of you so quickly that it hurts, that subtle sting resonating through your hips from his girth.

Dragging you down the bed are the strength of his hands, securing around your ankles while he kneels at the end of the bedspread. But before putting his mouth on you, he flips you onto your back. 

“Let me see that pretty face.” His deep, raspy voice requests. And he smiles when you lift your head.

Leaning back on your forearms, you watch with bated breath as he lifts your legs, letting the rest on his shoulders. While keeping your gaze, he moves in, kissing your thigh’s sensitive skin. 

“Baby,” You’re trying to get his attention, but he ignores it. “I wanna talk, talk to you.” 

Closing his eyes, his head dips down, tongue laying out. It runs up through your folds, now leaking with him. Jesus, he’s so enamored with you. 

“Jack.”

But he’s too distracted, moaning at your combined taste as his tongue swipes through your delicate sex. Both hands run over your thighs, gripping the sweet flesh with those thick and talented digits. 

Reaching down, you run your fingers through his clean-styled hair, curling them around the dark strands and yanking him away from your sex. He releases you with a grunt, mouth hanging open as he exudes thick and heavy breaths. Now, you have his attention. 

“So,” You finally say, smiling further up on the bed while you too, catch your breath. “You’re taking me to Italy?” 

[feliciakainzofspades]

A very stupid Harry Potter thing

So while doing my makeup today, I was spacing into the void and this thought came to me and now that I'm thinking about it, here's a stupid AU that may or may not be fueling my femboy fetish:

So, let's be real, Petunia probably tried the concealer trick to hide Harry's scar. Now, what a lot of people don't know -and actually, I just learned this myself today :D - is you can actually use concealer to highlight and brighten certain areas of your skin.

So, one day Harry's doing the concealer thing before Primary, he notices the glow and experiments before heading out; just the under eye cheek bone area. Oh my gosh, I look like I'm glowing!? Maybe this concealer stuff isn't so bad after all. Heck, now he has girls asking 'Harry, what are you doing? Your skin is glowing?! Teach us our secret!?" Harry's just stunned pikachu silence cause he didn't know how he did that.

Continues doing it, surprising Petunia since she usually had to fight him into wearing it. Whatever, at least we can hide the damn scar and keep him looking normal. Well now it's a double-edged sword, since one night, Vernon left the cupboard unlocked - He hasn't done anything "freaky", we can try this one night. sneaks into the bathroom and gets the mascara out. Okay his eyes were a bit irritated the day after cause obvious being obvious. But no-one knew he took his aunt's, they just knew that one day at school, Harry's lashes are fuller than usual.

This continues under behind the back, Harry's doing paper routes to get allowances cause the Dursleys sure as hell ain't payin' him for his chores. Buys his own stuff and hides them in his 'room'. This continues until Hogwarts, now he's fretting cause "BUT HOW AM I GOING TO GET A NEW PITCH BLACK LIPSTICK FROM MAYBELLINE?!" Finds out about the Vault? "Okay, I rocked this budgeting thing, I got this. Got my school supplies, how much do I have left? Yes! Time to get that Viper liner from Sephora! Should look up magic makeup looks to impress my new classmates"

But. This would start the Malfoy vs. Potter feud It wasn't Draco insulting Ron in front of Harry on the Hogwarts Expression Wasn't Draco bragging about his broom collection at Malfoy Manor while getting fitted for robes. Oh nooooo

It was because "Uh, who is this kid that's a lower status than me rocking a killer eyeliner? That wing is so sharp it could kill a person." Tries sucking up to Harry. Got shot down. That was the third Time Potter shot him down! How dare he! Fine, Potter, if that's how it's going to be I'll show to you that I'm the superior one and you will be so awed by me you'll have no choice but to leave that Blood Traitor Weasley.

Thus, began the Hogwarts Makeup Feud; every day, Draco shows up with something mind blowing; amazing blend of colors, gemstones glued to the outer corner of his eyes, he's looking like a fucking Faerie up in here. There's no way Potter will be able to top genuine emeralds and onyxes in a faux mask! Now he'll have to admit I'm his better!

But what's this? Harry shows up with a steady painted mask as his eyeshadow look; a lion mask with nothing but Gryffindor Colors! How many shades of reds and golds did he use?! No matter, one time thing - WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S SHOWING OFF A SLYTHERIN LOOK- ARE THOSE SCALES ON HIS FACE?! Potter, what the hell?! "Wig Cap" Wig what?!

This continues no matter what. Philosopher's stone, Harry has UV light eyeliner - how are they glowing without a UV light in Hogwarts? Magic! Chamber of Secrets, he lost some rhinestones while fighting the Basilisk, but hey, the setting spray is insanely powerful and his look hasn't melted yet. When he first died at Voldemort's hand? Voldemort made sure to have someone writing his victory speach.

"I suppose Potter deserves some recognition, write that he died the way he lived, looking like a swan" BITCH HE LIVES AGAIN! And Voldemort now has to live in the afterlife knowing he got taken down by a fuckin' twink who decided to one up Draco one final time.

Draco showed up in a corset top and was still casting spells without problems. Harry's not going down. HE'S FIGHTING VOLDEMORT IN HEELS. SUCK IT MALFOY!

Throughout all seven years, Harry and Draco had been doing this, trying to prove a point to someone. What was that point? What were they trying to tell the other? They don't know but they're not going down without a fight

[the1975attheirverybest]

I think he’s just always been hot lol. Honestly every photo I see from him in every era I’m like “yeah he’s perfect”

But also, he doesn’t exist to be pretty for me! He should present himself however he feels most represents him. So if he isn’t into the eyeliner and skirts anymore, then I can be a little sad about it, but like what am I supposed to do?? Be mad at him? For not dressing hot for me? Lmao that would be some seriously creepy thinking on my behalf. Plus we still have the old photos 💛

I feel like online a lot of people will criticize anyone who tells a woman how to dress or what’s most sexy on her… but when it comes to their favorite pretty boy, everyone is suddenly allowed to nitpick what they wear (I’m thinking a lot about Harry styles fans lol. Not all, but I’ve interacted with a few who seem genuinely like… mad… when Harry wears super masculine clothes. Like babes, it’s not that deep. He doesn’t always have to be fabulous and feminine.)

- 🔆

no cuz the other day we were talking on here about how Matty looks hot in literally anything. like, normally seeing a man in just jeans and a flannel would give me the ick for sure, but when he wore them? i was squealing and gazing at him longingly like an idiot, lol. hes gorgeoussss.

AND SO HIS HARRY. I've only ever seen him in 1 outfit that i've hated. and that wasn't even his fault. it's the fault of whoever wanted to kill us all with those colors. so...yeah. the person makes the clothes. not the other way round. If Matty wants me to (un)dress him though...id have no problem with that

[oopsimbug]

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

*

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

**

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.

[fruitcoops]

Hopefully I can slip something in before the time is up. Don't feel the need to rush anything your writing is amazing and I will be excited for it no matter when it comes! I would really like to see a fic where Remus get's sick/hurt or just overall run down because he has been trying so hard to catch up to the rest of the team after he finds out he is going to be playing with them. Thank you!

So the discord discussed this briefly a while ago, but it’s been on my mind ever since. Stretch marks are often overlooked or hidden from workout regimens, even though they’re super common and the majority of people have them; for Remus, who spends basically the whole summer getting strong, it is very likely that he would get some. All the stretch mark love!!

SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for some negative self-talk

So Sirius’ heart was breaking a little bit.

That was fine. Everything was fine. It was just that his fiancé didn’t love him anymore.

Okay, that might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but it wasn’t like he was lacking in time to overthink things over the past week and a half. It had been nine days and about six hours since he was last allowed to hug Remus without him shying away with a stumbling excuse, and even longer since Remus had changed clothes outside of their bathroom after locking the door behind him.

Speaking of, he hadn’t worn anything other than jeans with his too-big shirts tucked in, which seemed like a pretty terrible idea in the dead of summer. He looked cute as hell—of course he did, it was Remus—but Sirius had noticed the almost-constant red flush on his face. He hadn’t had a chance to see those glorious freckles, either, which was a true tragedy.

So, yeah, Sirius’ heart was breaking. More than a little bit, actually.

“Are you okay?” he asked while they laid in bed together, ankles intertwined. Remus had been so, so careful not to get too close during the night and it was driving Sirius a bit out of his mind. Even Pots had noticed, pulling him in for a tight hug because “you looked like you needed it”. Damn him and his observation skills, Sirius thought.

Remus sighed. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Are you too hot?” Sirius ventured. It was summertime, after all, and Remus was terrible about regulating his temperature.

“No, I’m good.”

“Do I smell weird?”

Remus rolled onto his side. “What?”

“I mean—” Sirius sniffed his arm. It seemed normal to him. “Do I smell weird to you?”

“…no?”

“Because I run warm, so if I was sweating all over you—”

“What are you talking about?” Remus asked, looking honestly bewildered.

Sirius felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. “It’s just…you haven’t been cuddling me recently. Or hugging me. Or letting me touch you at all, actually. And—and I was worried that I upset you.”

“Oh.” Remus’ voice was soft, and his eyes went huge and sad, like melty caramel. “No, baby, you didn’t do anything.”

“Okay.” Sirius wasn’t quite sure he believed him. “Um, while we’re on the subject: when did you start wearing shirts to bed? And flannel pajamas in July?”

Remus’ ears turned vibrant pink and he cleared his throat, glancing away. It wasn’t the cute, sexy blush, either—he looked downright humiliated. “It’s nothing, I was just a little cold,” he muttered at last, turning back over and tucking his chin down.

After a second’s hesitation, Sirius trailed his hand down the bumps of his spine; he was still all angles despite the many pounds of corded muscle he had put on over the summer training sessions. “Is this alright?”

“Yeah.” He sounded a little choked up and Sirius’ worry worsened.

“What’s going on, Re?” he asked, still running his fingers over the broad expanse of his back. Remus mumbled something. “Can you say that again?”

There was a puff of air. “I don’t want you to see them.”

“See what?”

The side of Remus’ jaw in Sirius’ eyeline ticked. “I didn’t know it would happen.”

“You lost me, sweetheart.”

Remus settled onto his back, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. He chewed his lip for a moment before exhaling sharply. “Fuck it.”

He sat up and tugged his shirt over his head, then shimmied his pants down his thighs. He was still wearing underwear, which was a little weird in Sirius’ mind. Remus crossed his arms over his chest and stared holes into the opposite wall as Sirius scanned him for any injuries, bandages, or surprise tattoos. “…I don’t see anything.”

“Don’t—” Remus broke off and closed his eyes. “Please don’t sugarcoat it.”

Sirius sat up as well, still searching for what in the goddamn hell his fiancé was talking about. “Re, I genuinely have no idea what I’m supposed to be seeing.”

“Here.” Remus pointed behind his shoulder blades. “And here.” He moved his arms to show his hip and waist. “And here.” It took a moment, but he stretched his leg out so his inner thigh was exposed.

Sirius tore his eyes away from the smattering of freckles all over him—fuck yeah, finally—and followed the lines in shades of pink, lavender, and reddish brown that shone in the moonlight through their windows. “So you’re upset about your stretch marks?”

Remus nodded miserably. “I didn’t realize they’d be this bad.”

“Did you—” Sirius made a timeout motion with his hands. “Re, did you think I wouldn’t want to cuddle you because of these?”

His mouth twisted and he wrapped his arms around his waist again. “It sounds stupid when you say it like that. Sorry.”

“Sweetheart.” Sirius scooted closer and pressed their shoulders together; almost instantly, Remus leaned into him. “Everybody on the team has stretch marks. I have stretch marks. That’s what happens when there’s a lot of muscle gain.”

“They’re not as bad as mine, though.”

Sirius tugged the edge of his shorts up to show his inner thigh, where light silver lines still crisscrossed his skin. “They fade over time, but I’ve had these since I was nineteen.”

“Yours look pretty.”

“So do yours.”

Remus’ hold on himself tightened, and his fingers twitched down to trace the wobbly edges of the marks. “I knew you wouldn’t be upset, but…but I’m already kind of wonky-looking and I thought this would just make it worse, and I have been trying so hard to catch up that this happened and it’s just—it fucking sucks, Sirius. I’m itchy and stretchy and they’re permanent.”

“Can I touch you?” As soon as Remus nodded, Sirius hauled him into his lap and hugged him tight. “I don’t know who told you that you’re wonky-looking, but it’s not true. You are the handsomest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life and those stretch marks just show how strong you are now. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you know they’re as beautiful as the rest of you.”

Remus was quiet for a moment. “You always say I’m pretty, but I don’t feel pretty. It’s like piling more scars on. Nobody looks at scars and goes ‘oh, yeah, that’s sexy’.”

“I do.”

“You look at my freckles and think they’re sexy.”

“I look at you and I think you’re sexy,” Sirius said firmly into the back of his shoulder, planting a kiss to the side of his neck. “And for the record, I’ve always thought your scars are hot as fuck.”

That drew a laugh from him. “Thanks, love.”

“Can we cuddle now? And will you stop wearing jeans when it’s ninety degrees outside?”

In lieu of a response, Remus pushed him back down onto the bed and wrapped all four limbs around him with a contented hum. “I missed this the most,” he said into the side of Sirius’ chest.

“Me, too,” Sirius murmured back, kissing his head and snuggling closer despite the heat. Under his palms, the stretch marks formed all kinds of patterns, and he decided to map every single one with his fingertips. Remus fell asleep after three; Sirius dozed off halfway through the sixth.

[tadashiluvr]

comforting yamaguchi

one shot

pairing: yamaguchi tadashi x gn!reader

genre: some angst, fluff, reverse hurt/comfort

warnings: bullying, crying, reader wears makeup

yamaguchi sat in the courtyard as he waited for tsukishima to arrive to eat with him, usually they walked together but tsukishima had forgotten to pack a drink for lunch so he had to stop by the vending machines.

yamaguchi heard footsteps and looked up expecting to see tsukishima, what he saw instead was two boys with sneers on their faces.

"looks like your tall bodyguard is gone," one of the boys said taking a step closer to yamaguchi.

the other boy laughed before starting, "where is that giant anyway, did he finally get tired of you?"

"he's just getting a drink from the vending machines, he'll be back in a second," yamaguchi said.

"you really believe he's coming back? that's pathetic, he's just gonna leave you," the first boy said, sneer still plastered on.

"yea, why would anyone ever be friends with a pizza face like you?" the second boy chimed in.

"he probably imagines playing connect the dots with those ugly marks on your face," the first boy taunted with a laugh.

"tsukishima wouldn't do that," yamaguchi defended.

"i wouldn't do what?" another voice questioned. as they turned to the voice they realized it was yamaguchi's 'tall bodyguard' and felt fear beginning to rush through their veins.

"it's nothing, tsukki, don't worry about it," yamaguchi stated before the two boys scurried off like dogs with their tails between their legs.

tsukishima sighed before sitting down, "you know, i heard them making fun of you."

"it's fine, it doesn't really matter," yamaguchi muttered, hoping to end the conversation quickly.

tsukishima sighed again before telling him, "whatever you say, tadashi."

yamaguchi realized he just had to get through the end of the school day and practice before he could go home to his nice, warm bed and cry.

the rest of the school day seemed to drag on and his failed serves at practice only seemed to made him feel worse than they usually do and, once practice finally ended, even tsukishima's common banter hurt his feelings.

yamaguchi separated from tsukishima as quickly as he could, making the excuse that he had to go to the store for his mom, tsukishima gave him a weird look for a moment before letting him go.

once he finally got home after taking the long way, he impatiently kicked off his shoes before running to his room and carelessly flopping himself onto his bed.

the moment his face hit the pillow sobs, sniffles, and gasps immediately for air rang through his room. his hands clutched onto his sheets, pillows, even his own clothes, looking for a place to find solace.

he felt something lightly touch the back of his twitching hand, momentarily bringing his cries to a stop, and heard a soft voice call out his name. as soon as he recognized the voice he jumped back, almost falling off his bed in the process, and began aggressively wiping his tears.

"w-what are you doing here?" he asked, panic and shock still evident in his voice.

"we were supposed to hang out today," you murmured as he still looked at you with wide eyes.

the air became stiff, the only sound being his occasional sniffles.

in an attempt to clear the air, you gestured towards a small white box places atop his desk while saying, "i- uh- i brought cake."

he lightly laughed at your awkward demeanor and wiped his nose before whispering out a word of thanks and standing to get the cake.

"tadashi, what happened?" you asked, inspecting his puffy eyes and red nose as he got closer to you.

he sighed as he sat with the cake box in hand, "it was nothing, just some guys being guys, i guess."

"what did they say?" you inquired further.

"nothing, babe, it doesn't matter."

you took a step towards his sagging form and put your hand on his cheek to lightly steer his face up towards your own before beginning your short speech, "it does matter if you made you feel like this, tadashi. please, tell me what they said so i can make you feel better."

his eyes met yours for the first time today and he saw that they were genuine, laced with concern. he knew he could trust you so he took a deep breath before explaining, "they called me pizza face and said you could play connect the dots on my face."

"what?!" you said, borderline shouted, and yamaguchi's eyes widened at not only your volume but the clear anger in your voice. "your freckles and acne are the cutest things ever, tadashi, if anyone tell you otherwise they're wrong and dumb," you continued, squishing his cheeks between your fingers making his lips pucker.

after your tiny fit of rage, you looked down and noticed yamaguchi's crushed face and puckered lips in your grasp. you giggled softly at the sight before bending down and leaving a peck on his lips, immediately making his face more red than it was from crying.

"WAIT!" you started, all too loudly. "i have an idea!" you let go of his face and dashed to grab your bag you left near his bedroom door.

"what are you grabbing in there?" yamaguchi asked with a laugh as you rummaged through your bag like a wild animal.

"just wait a second, tadas- found it!" you said holding up a small silver bag as if it was your most prized possession and walking to his desk. you began looking through the small bag as yamaguchi watched.

"what is it?" he asked, attempting to look around your body without standing.

"makeup," you replied, holding up an eyeliner pen.

"and what are you going to do with it?"

"look at constellations," you answered as if it was the most obvious thing. you straddled yamaguchi's lap and he scrambled to move the cake out of the way before he placed his hands against your hips.

as you lightly drew across yamaguchi's face felt hot from the closeness of your face to his. "what are you doing?" he stuttered out.

"i'm looking at constellations, like i said," you said, looking down and making eye contact with him which only seemed to fluster him more.

"i'm not quite sure what that means though," he murmured.

"you'll understand in a minute, for now, just stop moving," you whispered back to him, placing your hand on his cheek to steady his head.

he scrunched his nose at you before whining, "but it ticklesss."

"just hold still," you giggled at his childish antics as you continued to move the eyeliner across his face.

once you made one final line you leaned back and inspected your work before capping the eyeliner again. "ok, we're done," you said, patting his thigh as you stood up. "come look," you gestured at the mirror on his wall.

he walked up to the mirror and saw the stars drawn over his freckles and the lines connecting them. as he was turning his head every which way to see all the lines you walked up behind him and poked his cheek before listing off the names of the constellations painting his cheeks, "that one's the big dipper, that one's hercules, oh! and that one is scorpio! like you!"

you continued to name the different arrays of stars as he felt himself grow emotional again, he's truly never felt so cared for before. when he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes he turned and wrapped his arms tightly around you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "thank you," he whispered out in the most genuine voice you've ever heard.

you rubbed you hand up and down his spine and replied, "it's the least i could do when the boy i love is sad."

he chuckled at your statement before telling you, "i love you too."

[xofanfics]

Without Warning - Part IV

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Pairing: Reader x Mark ft. Doyoung

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You and Doyoung had the best summer you could. Now that he’s hundreds of miles away in college, you have to go through senior year alone. You meet Mark at a time when Doyoung is making you feel like you’re single.

Mark was completely taken aback by the events of the night. You’d kissed him and you held his hand and you brought him into your room. Mark could hardly contain his excitement about having kissed you, touched you, and having been close enough to pick up on your scent. For him it wasn’t sexual. It didn’t have to be and, to be honest, he didn’t want it to be. At least, not right now. For now, he was just enjoying this innocence with you.

You went in your drawers and pulled out pajamas, sending Mark into anxiety. Please don’t change in front of me, please don’t change in front of me, he thought. The last thing he needed was to get hard right now and to potentially scare you away. He definitely wasn’t ready for something like that. Thankfully, you excused yourself into the bathroom and returned a couple minutes later with a freshly washed face and pajamas on. 

You looked beautiful as ever, even with no makeup on. He’d seen you a few times without makeup but on most days, he noticed, you’d at least be wearing eyeliner. But here you were, no eyeliner, no mascara, and none of your usual lipgloss with the slight pink tint to it. 

Mark was lying across your bed, heart racing. He was nervous because he’d never seen you in this state and, of course, because he liked you a lot. “You feeling okay?”

You nodded. “Just a little tired. Do you wanna watch my show with me?”

“Yeah. What show?”

“I started rewatching Sailor Moon.”

“I’m down for whatever.” 

You crawled into the bed with him and snuggled up to him, lying on his chest. He wasn’t sure if you could hear his heart racing but it was definitely racing. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. He didn’t know if it was because he’d been drinking or what; he just knew that he was very aware of himself right now. Was he breathing too hard? Was he breathing at all? Did he still smell like alcohol? Did you actually like him, the same way he did? He had so many questions and most of them, he couldn’t answer at the moment.

One minute you were watching tv in silence and the next minute, you were asleep. Mark looked down at you and smiled at how cute you looked with your mouth slightly open. He wished he had this view all the time. With a sigh, he thought about all the things you could do if you were his. But for now, he caressed your hand as you slept. He stayed like that with you for the rest of the episode before he figured he shouldn’t overstay his welcome. He scooted from underneath you but before he could get out of the bed you reached out for him, grabbing onto his arm.

“Don’t go,” you mumbled.

“What?”

You opened your eyes and pouted. “Cuddle with me…”

Mark’s heart started racing again but he did what you asked. Plus, how could he resist when you made a face like that. He got under the blanket with you and pulled you closer. You snuggled up to him and said, “Goodnight.” Mark smiled and wrapped his arms around you. And with you in his arms, he fell asleep more quickly than he normally would. 

*

“Y/N?”

Mark shot up, realizing that he probably should’ve asked you when and if your mom was coming back home. He looked down at you, still fast asleep. Should he hide under the bed? In the closet? He heard footsteps coming toward the closed door. Mark bolted into the closet, hoping that the door wasn’t the kind that would squeak as you opened it. Thankfully, it didn’t and he closed the door just enough. He took in a deep breath, praying that your mom had no reason to look in the closet.

“Y/N?” your mom said. She opened the door and Mark heard your mattress shift from outside the closet. 

“Hey,” you said. He heard you yawn loudly. He couldn’t see you but he imagined it in his mind. 

His heart raced while your mother spoke. Was he breathing too loud? Could your mom somehow sense his presence? Thankfully, he’d come over in his socks so there weren’t any shoes by the door to be evidence. He’d met your mom a couple times at this point but he was pretty sure your mom wouldn’t have been very happy to come home and find the two of you asleep in each other’s arms. 

“Did you have fun with Mark and your friends?” She chuckled as Mark’s heart continued racing. “That’s good to hear. Anyway, it’s been a very long double shift so I think I’m going to take a bath with those bath salts you got me for my birthday. Get a little more sleep.”

“Okay,” you said, “See you later.”

Mark heard the door close and relief swept over him. A moment later, when he was sure your mom was gone, he whispered, “Y/N…”

“Mark?” You opened the closet door, surprised that Mark was there. You found him in between your jeans and your t-shirts. “Oh my God, I thought you left! I’m sorry, I forgot to set my alarm. I should’ve told you my mom was coming home in the morning. Unfortunately, she’s not on vacation in Mexico...”

“It’s all good,” he said, chuckling as he stepped out of the closet. “As long as she didn’t see us in the bed together, I think we’ll both survive.”

You laughed, too. “That was way too close.”

“Yeah, for sure. I should get out of here before your mom comes back...”

You nodded, moving out of his way. “Let me make sure she’s in the bathroom.” You left him in the room for a moment. Mark grabbed his phone from under your pillow. You came back and said, “The coast is clear.” 

You waved him over and he followed you to the front door. 

Mark turned to you. He needed to know before leaving here. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,” you said, stretching.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

You nodded. “I remember everything. I meant everything.”

That brought a wide smile to Mark’s face. He felt his cheeks get hot and he wasn’t sure if he was visibly blushing or not. Then again, he didn’t care. Hell, if you meant all the things you’d said, nothing else mattered. You wanted to kiss him, genuinely. He wasn’t sure if you liked him like that but you clearly felt something. And, for now, that was good enough for him.

You had something you wanted to say but you hesitated. Things had taken a turn since last night. “Um…”

Mark noticed your hesitation. He supposed things did get a little awkward. “What’s up?”

“Since we’re sober now, will you kiss me?” you asked, taking Mark by surprise. You’d been so forward for the last ten hours and he had no idea what to make of any of this. You didn’t know what had come over you the past few hours.

“Yeah.” 

Mark leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to yours. Your lips felt the same, more or less. They weren’t as moist without lipgloss and they no longer tasted like cotton candy. But he enjoyed the kiss with you nevertheless. He pulled away a few seconds later with a smile. You looked into each other’s eyes for a moment and he kissed you again. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Yep.” You took his hand in yours and squeezed it. “Now get out of here before my mom catches you here.”

With a chuckle and a kiss on your cheek, Mark was gone with the wind. 

*

Doyoung was annoyed and frustrated. He’d been trying to contact you for weeks on end to no avail. You’d dodged every obstacle. He’d hit you up on LINKEDIN, for God’s sake. He was putting in all that effort and you ignored him every time. He’d tried contacting you through your friends, on social media, and so on. But there was never any response. 

And then the one opportunity he had to talk to you, you were drunk off your ass. Was it that bad that you couldn’t contact him sober? Was it that bad that you had to be drunk to speak to him?

He was frustrated because he fucked up. He fucked up and he didn’t mean to. New stressors in his life weren’t any excuse to treat you the way he did. He got caught up in this new life and he took you for granted. He assumed you’d stick around because you loved each other, even though he hadn’t been acting like it. College life became more important to him that managing the relationship. But he snapped that one time and that was all it took to destroy the relationship. He was so stupid not to realize what was going on, not to realize how distant he’d become. It didn’t look good on his part, as your boyfriend.

How could he have been so stupid? He missed you. Some days, you were all he thought about. Were you sleeping well at night? Were you having fun? Did you...miss him? 

He was frustrated because he made a mistake, one that cost him even his friendship with you. He lost his girlfriend and his best friend, all at once. And he hated it. He missed being able to vent to you when he’d had a shitty day and he wished that he could call and tell you about it. But you took that option away from him and Amber and Phil weren’t much help either. He didn’t want to put them in the middle; it was an issue that he had with you and it wasn’t right to try to go through them.

Doyoung’s phone rang on his desk, disrupting him from his thoughts. It was his mother. She was the last person he wanted to speak to right now. He let it ring, hoping that she’d just leave it at that. The phone stopped ringing and he let out a sigh of relief. The relief only lasted for a few seconds and she started calling again. Doyoung rolled his eyes and sighed instead of hurling the phone across the room like he’d imagined in his head. He picked up the phone from off the desk and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey mom.”

“Just calling to check on you. How is everything?”

“It’s going okay. I’m working on a paper right now. I’m almost done. I got an B on my biology exam. I think I’m getting the hang of how I need to study for that class.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m sure you’ll do better for the next exam. Start preparing now so you can get a head start.” She cleared her throat. “Did you book your flight yet?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been so busy. I meant to tell you about it yesterday.”

“Good. The prices were getting more expensive.” She let out a deep sigh. “I can’t believe your brother is getting married in three weeks.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to have to come right back to school after.”

“Me either. But you know how event venues are. They got a good deal considering it’s a weekend.”

“It’s going to be a long weekend.”

It would be. But all he could think about was the possibility of seeing you while he was back home. He had so many things he wanted to say, so many things to make up for. He just wanted confirmation if things between you two were truly over. What would he find if he looked you in your eyes? Love, hate, or indifference?

*

Amber hit you in the arm with the copy of Romeo and Juliet that had been sitting on your desk. “You and Mark what?” 

You shrugged and said, “We kissed...a few times. And he might’ve slept over last night...”

“Slept over? Did you guys do it?”

“No!” you said, probably a little more loudly than necessary. “It wasn’t like that. We just...cuddled and slept. But I forgot to set an alarm for when my mom came back so Mark must’ve heard her calling me and he hid in the closet.” You grabbed an oreo from the box sitting in the middle of the bed as Amber sat cross legged at the foot of the bed, waiting for the rest of the story. “At first I was sad because I thought he left in the middle of the night but he ended up in the closet because my mom came in to say hi.”

“Well this was definitely unexpected,” she said, “but Mark’s a pretty decent guy, being from the male species and all.”

“Yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked Mark?”

“I didn’t know. I mean, I never thought about it.”

“So you’re not sure?”

“I think I do like him…I mean, I liked the kiss and the cuddling. And it’s not like he’s not attractive.”

“You’re not using him to get over Doyoung, right?”

You shook your head. Of course, getting over a two year relationship wouldn’t be easy but you had to move on eventually. And, with the way he treated you, it would be easier once you met someone who truly had your best interests in mind. Mark was a sweet guy and he was a good friend. Even though things had been platonic up until this point, Mark had become one of your closest friends. You could trust him with your life and you knew that, perhaps, you could trust him with your heart, too.

You weren’t sure what came over you that night but all you could think of at the time was “What if we kissed?” The alcohol gave you the nudge but you found yourself thinking of Mark constantly. And every time you did, you smiled. You remembered how you felt when things had gotten more romantic with Doyoung. You’d get butterflies when you heard his name and you were excited to see him everyday at school.

It was pretty early on but you knew that you were starting to like Mark, as more than just a friend.

*

Lucas jogged over toward Mark, sweaty and exhausted. He plopped down on the bench next to his friend and took a long swig from his water bottle. They’d been playing basketball for about an hour. “Ready to go?”

Mark nodded, standing up. “Yeah, let’s head back. I’m starving.”

Lucas stood too and they headed to the parking lot, in search of the car. Mark took out the keys to his parents’ car and got in. As Lucas got in the passenger, he said, “So what happened after we left last night? Did you tell her you like her?”

“Well we, uh, kissed...and I did tell her I like her.”

Lucas smirked. “So she likes you after all, huh?”

“I mean, I think so.”

“What do you mean, you think so? Did you ask her?”

“I mean I didn’t ask her directly.”

“So what the hell did you talk about then?”

“Well we actually didn’t do too much talking.” 

As soon as the words left Mark’s mouth, he regretted them. He knew that it sounded a lot dirtier than he meant. And he knew that Lucas would take it the wrong way.

Lucas’ eyes widened as he took it the wrong way. “You fucked her?”

Mark turned in his seat. “No, no! We didn’t have sex or anything like that. I know it sounds kinda weird but she brought me over next door to hangout because she didn’t wanna be alone and then she kissed me and then she wanted me to stay over and cuddle with her. So we cuddled and we both fell asleep.”

“Cuddle, huh? We all know what cuddling leads to…”

“Hey, just because that’s what you and Marina do doesn’t mean it’s the same for me and Y/N! When are you going to start dating her anyway?”

“Hey! Don’t change the subject! We’re not talking about me and Rina. When are you going to take Y/N on a date?”

“Soon. I’m just not sure what we should do. Got any date ideas?”

“Y/N is a pretty simple girl. What about a picnic at the park? You could go around dinner and watch the sun set.”

*

Mark was feeling extra excited today. He got to the bus stop a few minutes early, so he could rehearse what he was going to say to you. He’d rehearsed it a million times last night into this morning. Initially, he thought about texting it to you but he decided against it; he figured that asking you in person would be better.

He’d been texting you all weekend but he hadn’t hung out with you. Part of him was hoping that the two of you could hang out at least once but you’d been out with your mom all day yesterday. And he understood because your mom hadn’t had a Sunday off in a while. He was satisfied with the kiss you promised him over text messages. 

You snuck up on Mark without meaning to. He’d been so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t even see you coming in his peripheral vision. He jumped when you appeared in front of him, almost dropping his phone. “Shit!”

“Sorry,” you said, giggling, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay.” He sighed. “Ready for school?”

“I’m never ready for school.”

Mark chuckled. “Are you busy this weekend?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Would you wanna go on a date on Saturday?”

Your face lit up at his words. That made Mark happy. “I’d love that.” You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. And when you pulled away, you gave him that promised kiss. 

That, of course, made Mark even happier.

***

TAG LIST: @wanlore​

GENERAL TAG LIST: @to-all-the-stories-i-love​

If you want to be added to my tag lists, pls send an ask!

[kuroos-moon]

E-girl S/o 

☾ pairings: ushijima x reader, oikawa x reader, kuroo x reader 

☾ request: headcanons for Ushijima, Oikawa and Kuroo reacting to or being interested in/dating a girl that is kinda goth/e-girl/edgy? Like they wear a lot of black, like scary movies and video games, have a very sarcastic personality?

☾ warning/s: none

☾ a/note: not rlly sure if i did e-girls justice on this one im sorry 

Ushijima Wakatoshi 

• Doesn’t get the “oh, I didn’t expect girls like y/n are your type” 

• Like?? Uhm, wdym it’s self-explanatory you’re just so eye-catching 

• Yes, you caught the Ushiwaka’s eye 

• You’re not dating or anything, let alone have started a conversation 

• But there’s an impressive number of people who know he likes you a lot

• Wakatoshi’s blunt and genuinely honest for most times if not all of his life 

• “You like anyone?” “Yes.” “Really? Is it that cute girl from your cl-

• “Y/n L/n.”  

• Knows how much you love black bc it’s not rlly hard to miss, you wear it on you every chance you get

• And now you’ve cursed him with remembering you every time he sees the color 

• You heard of the rumors that one of the nation’s top three aces likes you and you don’t believe them ofc 

• Not that you don’t know you’re pretty, you love your reflection but you just reckon you’re not his type yk? 

• He’s more of an admire and fall for you more from afar type of dude

• Totally stops and stare when you walk in the gym wearing a short black skirt and a black top, with boots and chains and all 

• Doesn’t know a thing about fashion but damn, you’re so hot?? 

• Cannot hear even his own coach

• Hopes you’re not going on a date 

• “Geez, y/n, is it someone’s funeral?” “Ah, Satori-chan, why are you even out of your cascket?” 

• Kinda thinks you’re mean bc you’re sarcastic and his humor rlly isn’t up to your level lmao sorry but he wants to know what’s it like to actually talk to you 

• So he does, once he bumps into you on his way out of the gym and you just awkwardly stare at each other 

• “I like your style. Your outfit.” He says, and he is not even shy on the outside at least

• “uh thanks?” you just kinda smile at him bc ydk what youre supposed to do this is wakafreakingtoshi we’re talkin bout 

• “you like black a lot.” “yeah, I do, what of it?” 

• “you really look good in it. You own the color,” he says that like it’s no big deal before he walks away 

• You totally crush on him after that encounter 

• Basically, he doesn’t have a type. he cannot distinguish cute girls, e-girls, or any ‘type’ of girls

• What he could so naturally distinguish though, is you—his lovely darling in black—and the rest of the female population he couldn’t care less for 

Oikawa Tōru 

• You’re his most treasured babygirl and no he doesn’t take any criticism 

• Your taste in fashion? 💯/💯

• Is maybe a tad bit too in love with your pretty boy and e-girl dynamic in pics bc his Instagram is flooded with them 

• Hypes you up in your socials, in his, and in real life 

• Goes for captions like: “choke me like you hate me, y/n-chan” and “step on me and I’ll apologize instead” 

• He’s so cheesy but you love it :>

• Lets you pick out his clothes once in a while though you have different tastes and preferences 

• You return the favor too sometimes and it’s not even a compromise on either of your parts 

• You just have fun with your own things and you’re having fun in trying out things the other likes too yk? 

• One thing that shortens his lifespan is when you watch horror movies together 

• HOW ARE YOU NOT SCARED? Loves spending nights like this with you nonetheless though

• “y/n-chan is the ghost gone?” “yup, you could open your eyes now.” “thank g- hey!” 

• Is the rare male teenager who’s kinda knowledgeable in make-up products bc of u

• He knows what kind of eyeliner you use and if he sees something kinda cool when he’s out, he’ll buy it for you

• Or tell you about it: “y/n-chan do you know this eyeliner called ***? I don’t know if it was the lady’s sales talk but I think you’ll like it”—wholesome and thoughtful

• Flexes you a lot and will not tolerate all the “Tōru and y/n don’t really look good together” 

• “Right? She just doesn’t complement him right.”

• He’s childish and more so when agitated, not even Iwaizumi could hold him back

• “Oh yeah? THEN LOOK AT MY FABULOUS NAILS” flexes all ten of his fingers which you painted black just last night on your bedroom floor 

• You just flip your hair in their direction and drag Toru away bc you’re too unbothered <33 

• “y/n-chan back me up here, you have the bitchiest attitude towards me so let’s work together and unleash our sass on them so they shut up, okay?” 

• It’s really rare for him to be that way with his fans but he’s the numero uno y/n-stanner ofc he won’t take that crap 

• “your makeup and taste in clothes aren’t even half as good as y/n’s.” sticks his tongue out ✨maturely✨

• Hates when he has to play Karasuno bc you once mentioned you could imagine Tobio having the same aesthetic as you 

• You also might’ve jokingly told him that “Toru I should’ve gotten a boyfriend from Karasuno, it’d be cool to tie their jacket around my waist and cheer for him at the same time.” 

• Was so mad at you about it and refused to talk to you for days because he’s just so not childish at all 

• “Ugh, why don’t they just change their team color to pure orange. Chibi-chan domination.” 

Kuroo Tetsuro

• Already took an interest in you from what he observes is an interestingly snarky character 

• Has been seeing you in only your uniform at first though but then he finds himself thinking a bit too much about you one night

• Stalks your Instagram <33 

• Jaw drops, heart beats a tad bit faster, his yearning grows 

• You’re so pretty. So good in black. Your poses? The whole vibe of your feed? He doesn’t know what to do with his admiration you’re just so freaking meant for him

• He gets it’s not the usual style for most girls in school, and tbh he didn’t know he’d like it so much, he just does now

• Knows there was no saving him once he starts imagining scenarios about you before he goes to bed

• This dork starts to know more things about you—it’s really cool that you play the same games as him 

• Is up to date on your posts, your ig story, and your tweets but why in the world are you still not in bed at 3 in the morning? 

• You just love gaming, huh? Should he start a conversation with you about it? He played that often too with Kenma

• He just can’t seem to though bc he’s nervous and lowkey intimidated 

• Once witnessed you jokingly exchange snarky comments with your friends and you even flipped them off 

• It’s settled then, he’ll graduate without talking to you sad kuroo noises 

• You once posted a pic flexing your matte black nails on a weekend and when the weekday came, he was so excited to see them in person 

• But your nails are no longer painted, and he was so disappointed bc they looked rlly attractive to him 

• Voices out his thoughts mindlessly. “You removed your nail polish.” 

• Everyone—including you—is surprised. Your desks aren’t even next to each other but his body was facing you 

• Cringes internally once he realizes he had said it but is so surprised when you smile at him. 

• “It’s not allowed in school, it’s a shame, you think they were pretty too, right?” 

• He cannot function, he totally did not prepare for this—and to think he had so many nights imagining different scenarios about you. 

• He was rlly popular and you thought you acted too confident; you just curse yourself for it. “Oh, uh sorry I thought you saw my post.” 

• You look away, embarrassed. “Yeah,” he chuckles a bit. You cringe. 

• “Black really suits you, and your nails were pretty, wish I could’ve seen them today, that’s all.”

• And who would’ve thought your relationship would bloom since then 

• All because he’s so interested and mesmerized with everything about you <3 

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff @animebs @astrealia @kittykitkatstrawberry @hajimesbbygrl @kellesvt @24hr7dysdizzy @arnxldss @elianetsantana @vicassa @floraraine @beanst0ck @leinnah @kageyamasgirl @deafeningart @minibobabottle   @franko-pop @moonlightaangel @throughtheinterstices @micasaessakusa @dixonsbugaboo @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @ultzuko

[blue-fidelity]

~ “Smile in the face of Tragedy”

Chapter 2: New King

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Henderson!reader, Steve Harrington x best friend! reader

Chapter Summary:

A wild night reveals secrets and broken hearts. At least Billy & (Y/N) have each other.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drunk!Billy, sad!Steve (that is a warning 🥺)

“(Y/N)! It’s Halloween!”- Halloween? (Y/N) woke up to the sound of her brother yelling excitingly. If she wasn’t mistaken, she could hear the Ghostbusters theme playing loudly from Dustin’s room. She groaned, burying her head in her pillows while running her hands through her hair.

This is not how she planned to wake up this morning.

Before closing her eyes to regain a little more sleep, her alarm clock looked her right in the face. 7:15. Another groan came from her. Perk up (Y/N), it’s your favourite holiday! She pushed herself up, swinging her legs on the side of the bed. (Y/N) definitely knew the high school students weren’t going to be wearing costumes to school. So before Billy picked her up, she’d head home to get changed.

Billy- (Y/N) didn’t think she’d be able to forget yesterday. The way he held her, the way he kissed her forehead. His embrace was so comforting- she nearly melted into him. The smell of dry cigarette smoke and cheap cologne haven’t been able to leave her senses. It was like everything that came with him, it was intoxicating, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

As she stepped out of bed, she moved her hips slightly to the music coming from her brother’s stereo. When she made it to her drawers, she contemplated what she should wear today. Just because she wasn’t going to wear a costume, didn’t mean she couldn’t look spooky, right? She grabbed her “Chistine” t-shirt, it was one of her favorite horror movies. Pairing it with a black acid wash skirt, some fishnets, and her usual chuck taylors, she strutted confidently out her bedroom door.

She walked into the bathroom to find Dustin clad in his Stantz costume, brushing his teeth. He looked so cute! “Hey Doctor Stantz, ‘lookin pretty badass”, she grinned, patting him on the back. “Thanks (Y/N)! I can’t wait to see the guys in their costumes, Halloween’s gonna be so great!”, he cheered, spitting out his tooth paste. He quickly ran out of the room to fetch breakfast, leaving (Y/N) time for her hair & makeup.

Bright red lipstick and heavy black eyeliner, hair slightly curled.

-

When she stepped into the living room, she saw her mom enthusiastically taking polaroids of Dustin. She couldn’t help but smile, hoping her mom would save her some for her picture board. (Y/N) sat on the couch beside her cat Mews, scratching the back of his ears as he purred in contentment. She giggled at the various poses her brother made in front of the camera.

Her mom had finally stopped taking photos, noticing her on the couch. “(Y/N) darling! I didn’t see you come in, can I get a photo of my two children?”, she questioned, looking at her with pleading eyes. (Y/N) couldn’t say no! “Of course!”, she said, standing up from the couch.

She placed an arm around Dustin’s shoulders, teasingly taking him in a headlock, rubbing her nuckles on his hair. To this he laughed, playfully pointing his fake proton blaster at her. It was the perfect picture. Perfectly trapped in the moment of two great siblings, simply having a good time.

(Y/N) gathered her things, making sure to take one of her mom’s homemade muffins for breakfast. She had made them a couple days before, but they still were delicious. Even though (Y/N) desperately needed coffee, she decided against it. She was already running a bit late, and as much as she hated the stale stuff from the cafeteria, it’d have to do. Dustin had already slipped out the door to head off on his bike, he really must’ve been eager to see his friends.

Before making her way to her motorcycle, she slipped her jean jacket on and hugged her mom goodbye. Claudia looked at her intently, ruffling her curled hair. (Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully, “Alright mom, I gotta go! ‘I’m gonna stop here after school though, k?”, she opened the front door. “Okay have a good day sweetie! ‘I’ll see you before your party!”. (Y/N)’s mom knew about the party, whether she knew there was going to be alcohol involved, it was better off not knowing.

Sliding the keys into the ignition, she sped off to the school. She could never get enough of the mysterious backroads of Hawkins. It scared her, obviously. With all the things that happened the previous year, she couldn't help but wonder if things still lurked in the depths of the forest, hiding till they could strike. Waiting and waiting till they can catch someone else and drag them to that horrible place. Her body trembled at the thought of it. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the memories. Eyes turning back to the road, she removed one of her hands from the handles, trying to reach for the button of her stereo. It had turned onto some random radio station that was playing Halloween tunes.

“Happy Halloween ‘Morning Ghouls and Goblins of Hawkins! Here’s a spooky throwback from ‘1982 for y’all on this fine dreary morning, ‘Blood Bitch’, by Cocteau Twins!” - the radio host introduced, was he really supposed to swear on radio? Well, no one really had a filter these days.

The song added to the eerie atmosphere of the cold morning, making her uneasy. She pushed through her thoughts, trying to just focus on getting to school. It was Halloween! No need for being pent up on past trauma. The station had eventually turned to a happier song, putting her in a better mood. What better to put a smile on your face then the ‘Time Warp” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show? She bobbed her head happily to the familiar tune, singing along to the lyrics.

-

School today had been an absolute drag! Last period (math) was nearly done and (Y/N) was desperate to get out. She could see some of her mutuals were anxious as well, probably too excited to wait for the party tonight. She was excited as well, maybe a little bit of the fact that she’d be spending more time with Billy?

(Y/N) would hate for him to think she’d be using him as a rebound. Even though it seemed that way, she really should’ve forgotten about her feelings for Steve awhile ago. (Y/N) really loved Steve, but he’d always been so oblivious, but- that was just Steve. He would’ve never known of her feelings if she didn’t tell him. Which she never did, in fear of obvious rejection. Then here was Billy Hargrove, whether it be his flirtatious nature, she could see herself really falling for him. The one thing she knew she wouldn’t do was dive in too quickly. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes, for her and for Billy’s sake.

She was finally released from the rechedouness that was her math class-running straight out the door right as the bell rang, nearly having winded Mr. Henry. After taking a quick stop at her locker, she walked outside to find her motorcycle. (Y/N) was nearly there till a skateboard hit her feet, stopping her in her tracks.

“I’m so sorry! It slipped right out from under me-” a voice of a young girl called, her breath shaky. (Y/N) looked down at the girl shuffling to grab her skateboard, she had never seen her before. The mysterious teen with the red hair looked around her brother’s age, so why was she so unrecognizable? Wait- could it be?

Billy’s step sister.

“Hey, hey it’s all good!”, (Y/N) gave her a reassuring smile. “Hey- not to sound weird or anything-”, she chuckled nervously, “But, are you new here? ‘You see I got a younger brother ‘about your age, and you got an unfamiliar face”. The girl stared at her skeptically, but still replied. “Yeah, just moved here from ‘California, what are you ‘looking to set him up or something?” she questioned sarcastically. ‘Damn she was quite the firecracker. “Nah frankly I think you're a little out of his league”, (Y/N) winked. To this she got a laugh out of her. “Well, it was nice weirdly meeting you, ‘I’m Max!”, she introduced herself. “Well Max, ‘I’m (Y/N), if you're interested in someone helping you out with that kickflip, ‘I used to do some skateboarding myself”, she offered. Max beamed at her offer, “Really? That’d be so great!”, “Alrighty then, if you see me around, don’t be shy to ask!”.

Little did (Y/N) and Max know, Billy was watching them. Billy knew (Y/N) was genuinely kind, but not that kind. It wasn’t necessarily cool to be seen with a middle schooler. He figured he wouldn’t look too much into it, but something about seeing (Y/N) with her, didn’t sit well with him. Billy gave Max a dirty look as she skated up to the camaro. “You're late again”, Billy started. “I had to get catchup homework”, Max stated. “Jesus! I don’t care- who was that girl you were talking to?”, Billy asked, even though he already knew who she was. “Just some high schooler- she offered to help me learn some skateboarding tricks' '. So she skateboarded too, huh? “That’s rich. Just, get in the car, will yah?”.

-

(Y/N) entered the door with a ‘skip in her step. She really needed a reason to lose herself, forget about the world around her. Tonight was going to be perfect for that. Expecting to be greeted by her mom, she noticed no one was there. She knew Dustin was heading to Mike’s right after school, ‘but her mom was nowhere to be seen. She probably had to work later hours again. ‘This meant she had the place to herself! (Y/N) still had a few hours before Billy picked her up. So she figured she’d get into her costume, and then fix herself something to eat.

The Sarah Connor costume was simple. Gray tank top, black jeans, sunglasses, a chunky belt and combat boots. (Y/N) already had all of this in her regular wardrobe, so it’d be a pretty easy costume. Of course she didn’t have a rifle to complete it, even though she could’ve asked Nance. She wasn’t about to show up to a house party with a gun. It would have been pretty cool though.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, clad in costume. Now it was time to remove her makeup and untame her curled hair. “Mr. Crowley” by Ozzy Osbourne was currently spinning on her “Blizzard of Ozz” vinyl. She mouthed her lips to the lyrics as she straightened her hair, her (Y/H/C) locks falling in straight whisps on her head. Replacing her once extravagant makeup with a more nude look, she looked at herself pleased.

A total badass look, you might say.

It was only 4:30, and Billy was coming over at 6 o’clock. She had way too much time to kill. Making her way to the kitchen, she scoped the fridge. Enough ground beef for two burgers, and she knew they had leftover buns. Maybe Billy would be hungry when he got there, and if she was making dinner for two- she didn’t want to start too early. So she’d head back to it in about a half an hour. Meanwhile a coca-cola would hold her down, she was pretty firsty.

(Y/N) now laid in her bed, bored. ‘Blizzard of Ozz was still playing, it just switched onto “Steal Away (The Night)”, her ears perked up to the upbeat tune. She couldn’t help but dance around, hopping happily on her bed as she belted the lyrics along with Ozzy. Pointing at the poster of him that was plastered on her wall, she shouted the chorus. It’d be pretty funny if Billy were to walk in on her singing her heart out, what would he think of that? She rolled her eyes at the thought, he’d probably think she was crazy. The song ended, turning to the next one. (Y/N) took this as her cue to start on dinner.

Flipping the patties in the pan, she sighed at the smell. She did cook a pretty ‘mean burger. Dustin loved when she made them, he always said the added rosemary was the perfect touch. (Y/N) grew up with her mother teaching her how to cook. Claudia Henderson had worked in a number of restaurants, usually in the kitchen or as a waitress. She now helped run a popular Inn a little outside of town, and it was her favourite place she’s ever worked in. (Y/N) probably figured it was a busy night, considering she didn’t come home at her usual hour.

5:45 and the burgers were ready and plated, the aroma running through the room. Billy was ‘going to be here soon, and she was giddy with excitement. Before she knew it, the bell rang. Fuck he was early. “Coming!” she called, slowly making her way to the door. ‘There he stood; a cocky grin on his face with his arm propped up on the door ledge. She took time to take in his minimal outfit, tight jeans & a leather jacket, no shirt. His abbs were on full display- (Y/N)’s mouth watered just at the sight of him. “See something you like, sweetheart?” he smirked. “Maybe-”, (Y/N) stammered. “It’s aight, I see something I like to,'' he whispered the last part into her ear, letting himself in.

“She cooks too? ‘I guess looks can be deceiving”, he motioned to the burgers. (Y/N) blushed, “I figured we could eat before we fill ourselves with alcohol”. They delved into the burgers, she couldn’t help but laugh when Billy moaned at the taste. “Darlin- I haven’t had a burger like this in awhile, ‘the ones down at Benny’s don’t hold anything on these”, he praised. “That must be a high compliment, because ‘Benny’s are pretty good”, she smiled at him. (Y/N) put the dishes into the dishwasher, quickly running to her room to grab her polaroid camera. “Where are you ‘heading princess?”, she’d never get tired of his little pet names. “I’m just grabbing my camera- I want to get some good shots tonight!”.

(Y/N) came back with her camera bag, a big grin on her face. “You ready to head out?”, he questioned. “Yeah, just let me get my jacket”, she took her jacket from the hook. “Ready”. He guided her to the camaro, opening the passenger door. Billy never opened the passenger door for girls! ‘(Y/N) really did something to him, huh? “Such the gentlemen”, she smirked. “Anything for you dollface”. He slid into the drivers side, placing his keys into the ignition. “Music?” she questioned, “Sure thing, feel free to look through the cassettes in the glove box”. She searched through the assortment of tapes, varying from Metallica, Def Leppard, RATT, Mötley Crüe, Hanoi Rocks, AC/DC and more. She settled on Hanoi Rocks’s, “Two Steps From The Move” album. It had just come out that summer, and it was one of her favourites. Not to mention she had a HUGE crush on Michael Monroe.

“Hanoi Rocks huh? I like your style”, he nodded in approval, till turning his eyes back on the road. “Got any specific fave tracks?”, (Y/N) questioned. “Track 8”. She was surprised he chose this one, considering it was one of the more “cheesy” songs. ‘It did have a pretty ‘rockin guitar riff in it though, she’ll give him that. Billy contentedly thumped his hands on the steering wheel, speeding up a bit. Rolling both of their windows down, (Y/N) was surprised to see him singing along to the lyrics. It was a bad attempt at a Finnish accent, sure, but it was still really cute. (Y/N) joined him, jumping in at the chorus. They banged their heads to the tune, continuously singing the lines. (Y/N) really felt alive in that moment. ‘She couldn’t remember the last time she had this much fun, and they haven’t even gotten to the party yet.

-

They pulled up to Tina’s, teens were already rallying in. ‘It was going to be a wild night. Before Billy could open up his trunk to get the kegs, (Y/N) stopped him. She pulled out her camera, “Hargrove! Smile!”, she grinned, pointing the camera at him. ‘He rolled his eyes, posing for the picture. The photo was of Billy playfully doing the devil’s horns symbol, with his tongue stuck out. She giggled, “This is one for the board!”. “Well Hey Sarrah Conner- let me take a pic of you!”, he said, trying to grab the camera from her. She handed the camera to him, smiling that he remembered her costume name. Letting her sunglasses shade her eyes, ‘she smirked brightly at the camera, ‘Billy quickly snapping the shot. He handed the polaroid to her, she shaked it and placed it in her bag with the one she took.

Billy held one of the kegs while (Y/N) grabbed the other, walking into the crowded house. It was overwhelmingly loud. They could feel the heat coming off the numerous teenagers that littered the home, their bodies moving to the heavy beats of the stereo. Tina was in the kitchen, and had noticed the pair walk in. “Billy & (Y/N) are here with more kegs!”, she shouted, ‘causing the crowd to go wild. Someone had taken the one from her hands and motioned Billy to follow them into the backyard, leaving her alone. She grazed over the sea of teens, trying to spot anyone she knew. She noticed Steve and Nancy dancing freely in the living room, Nancy nursing a drink while Steve had a big smile on his face. She figured she’d grab some punch and then see what Billy was doing in the backyard, most likely a keg stand. He was the new ‘king after all, Tommy was probably expecting him to beat Steve’s record.

‘As luck would have it, she was right. She stood on the back porch with a cup of “pure fuel” in her hands, watching the teens crowd around him as he bent over the keg. They shouted various numbers, counting the seconds as he chugged down the beer. (Y/N) cheered with them, looking at him with bright eyes. His torso was glistening, beads of sweat running down his toned chest. Her cheeks flushed red just at the sight of him. The enthusiasm got louder as he finished the stand, spitting spews of beer out of his mouth. “That’s how you do it Hawkins! That’s how you do it!”, more cheers. Tommy passed him a cigarette and escorted him into the house, the gang shouting his name as Mötley Crüe’s, “Shout At The Devil” played on the speakers. Billy spotted her on the porch, grinning wildly at her. He shoved her into his side with his arm, hugging her tight. Tommy glared at the interaction. Never in her time with being friends with Steve has ‘Tommy liked her that much, and it seems things haven’t changed.

Typical Tommy.

(Y/N) was enjoying the feel of Billy's embrace a little too much. She knew he was already partially drunk, and she was feeling a nice buzz that she wasn’t planning on getting rid of anytime soon. Someone had to drive them home. ‘Tommy paraded them up to Nancy and Steve, (Y/N) wasn’t sure if it was to torchure her or show off Billy, probably both. ‘Billy and Steve stared each other down as if they were going to kill each other, it was really intense. Too intense for her liking. Still hooded under Billy’s arm, she shot Steve a sympathetic look. ‘As if to say ‘I’m sorry’ with her eyes. “We got ourselves a new keg king Harrington!”, Tommy declared. “Yeah eat it Harrington!”, another guy shouted. Somehow in ‘Billy and Steve’s stare down, Nancy had slipped away.

“You see Harrington- not only that, but I stole your girl away too”, Billy retorted. Oh shit- this wasn’t good. Steve glanced over at her, a nervous look in his eyes. “I don’t know what you're talking about man-”. How did Billy know about (Y/N)’s past feelings for Steve? “Well you see, this lovely lady under my arms thought the world of you, and frankly I- I just don’t see why! Point being, she has me now, you can go fetch that slut you settled for.” This interaction was making neither Steve nor (Y/N) happy, it left them feeling both angry and confused. Steve scoffed, chasing after Nancy. He was going to want to talk to (Y/N) about this later.

Steve really didn’t know what to make of what Billy had said to him. Mainly, it sounded like a warning; but he didn’t think Billy intended for it to be that. (Y/N) and him had been best friends forever, and even if he didn’t necessarily like Billy, there was no harm in her being friends with him, right? Though, something about what Billy said hinted that he meant more than just friends. Had (Y/N) liked him, loved him even? Was Steve really oblivious all these years- no, it couldn’t be. If he was being honest, he harboured a small crush on her in the beginning of middle school, but then Nancy came into his life. Nancy Wheeler hit him like a freight train right in the heart, and he then became a lovesick puppy. He couldn’t get enough of her. That’s when Steve began to realize, the jealous glances over the years, the slight distaste of Nancy that came off her.

But, why did it matter if (Y/N) loved him? He still had Nancy, or so he thought.

-

Tommy had left, leaving Billy and (Y/N) in the corner of the living room, an uncomfortable silence stirring between them. “Billy-how did you-“, she wondered in a whisper, but Billy cut her off. “You really don’t think Tommy would’ve told me? Besides, everybody knows”. She didn’t need to hear the last part. Besides, why did it matter if everyone knew- it didn’t matter to her anymore. “Does that bother you?”, she asked worriedly. Billy chuckled darkly.

“Darlin- you got nothing to worry about, I’m your new king now”.

Next thing she knew, they were on the dance floor. Billy had pulled her into the crowd of sweaty bodies, grinding on each other. Some people were making out, others chugging alcohol till they fell limp to the floor. She stared nervously at the rowdy teens, her body shaking. He noticed her agitation, placing a hand on her cheek, turning her to face him. He smelt of cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke, and a hint of cologne. She was caught with that intoxicating sensation again, making her hazy. His icy blue eyes peered into her (Y/E/C) ones, “Just feel the music princess- everything will be just fine”.

‘Their bodies moved comfortably against each other to ‘Billy Idol’s, “Flesh For Fantasy”. A perfect song choice in the moment. ‘(Y/N) was very much sober and very much aware of what was happening. Aware of Billy’s strong grip on her waist, aware of his hips moving against hers. Normally this would’ve been cutting close corners for her, but she was looking for an opportunity to lose herself. What better way than this? She ran her fingers through his thick blonde curls, her hips swaying a bit more. He sighed in contentment, making her shiver. His face was currently buried into her neck, placing soft kisses on her collarbone.

They continued their heavy sway for a while, Billy had started to form a hickey below her ear. She was definitely not going to be able to cover it up tomorrow, but she really didn’t care if people saw it- she wanted people to know that she wasn’t desperate. That she didn’t need Steve anymore. She wasn’t exactly sure what she meant to ‘Hargrove, but she knew that she wasn’t planning on leaving him anytime soon. (Y/N) felt him remove his lips from her neck, his hot breath waving over her. “Mhmm- left a pretty big mark sweetheart-“ he mumbled. She hummed in return, removing her hands from his hair.

The rest of the night consisted of more dancing, and Billy getting more intoxicated than he was before. Really drunk Billy- let’s just say it was quite the sight to see. He was a giggling mess, slurring his words and stumbling on his feet. “(Y/N)- has anyone ever told you-“ he hiccuped, “That you were gorgeous?”, another hiccup. She giggled at his comment, “Tons of people- but I bet no one sees me like you do huh?”, she supported him up against the kitchen counter. “Absolutely no one!” He cheered in a high pitch voice, damn he really was a mess. She tried to wrap his arm around her shoulders snatching his keys.”Hey- what are you doing?”, he gestured to the keys, “Getting you home-“, “Wait! Can we go to your house please?? I can’t wake up my dad letting him see me like this- he’ll kill me”, he pleaded. “Fine- just, try to be as quiet as possible, I got a sleeping family too”.

(Y/N) took him out of the house, nearly carrying him. She waved goodbye to a few mutual friends who were still conscious, muttering a soft “See y’all tomorrow, hope we aren’t all hungover”. This earned a few laughs from her classmates, bidding her and Billy a goodnight. Unlocking the passenger side to the camaro, she set Billy down lightly on the seat. “Being so ginger with me sweetheart- I’m not made of glass ‘you know”, he joked. “Whatever tough guy- let’s just get you to a bed, mhm?”. Placing her hands on the steering wheel, she realized she hasn’t driven a car since the summer, and a camaro is definitely nothing close to a station wagon. She took a deep breath- she could do this, no sweat. Besides, there was no way she could bring herself to ruin a car as beautiful as this one.

Billy must’ve passed out while they were driving, because when she pulled into her driveway, his eyes were sewn shut. She had to admit- he did look pretty adorable when he was sleeping. She tried to resist the urge to take a photo of him, but she couldn’t help herself. Pulling out her camera bag that was littered with pictures from tonight, she snapped a quick photo of him. The flash startled him, waking him up. “Sweetheart- were you taking photos of me in my sleep? That’s just creepy”, his voice was groggy. “How could I not when you were laying there looking like an angel?”, “Pfft- ‘darlin, I am a demon, Satan himself! ‘Ain’t no way I’m an angel!”, he scoffed.

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but Lucifer was once an angel”.

Fumbling with the keys to her front door while trying to help Billy regain his footing was hard. He was just about to lose consciousness again when she finally got the door open, it shouldn't have been as much of a challenge as it was- but Billy had a lot of weight to him. She didn’t notice the lights were still on till she saw her mom sitting in her reading chair, Mews on her lap and clad in a cat costume. Shit- what was she gonna say about this? “Oh! Mrs. Henderson- I see where (Y/N) gets all her good looks from!”, Billy squealed, “Ugh can it Billy! Mom I can explain-“ she shushed Billy, staring wide eyed at her mother. “Sweetie- you clearly had a wild night, just take this pound of muscle to your room, and we can talk about it while he crashes, okay?”- (Y/N) nodded quickly, dragging Billy to her room.

Billy flopped down on the bed, giggling wildly. “Honey! We’ve known each other for two days, don’t you think we ‘oughta know one another better before I sleep in your bed?”, (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the blubbering idiot. “This was your idea dumby! Just get under the covers and keep it shut, will you?”, she glared at him, closing the door and heading back to the living room.

“So no Steve, huh? He’s the one who usually spends the night”, her mom said softly. “Different reasons mom- I’m just trying to figure out who’s a bigger piece of work”, she huffed. “Well he’s quite the looker, ‘makes me wonder how you keep up with him”, Claudia smirked. “Mom! He’s new here- he just happened to notice me first”, (Y/N) blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Besides- what are you doing up so late?”, (Y/N) stared at the clock, “It’s nearly 1 o’clock”. “Busy night down at the Inn, just needed a little time to myself after Dusty went to bed”, she sighed, but (Y/N) knew she wasn’t finished. “Also wanted to see what mess you brung home, it’s always a new thing with you”, her mom laughed. “Billy’s- interesting, but I’m not sure, doesn’t seem like the most faithful type”, she sighed. “He may surprise you, and besides- if he hurts you he’ll have to suffer the wrath of your brother!”, Claudia giggled, smiling at her daughter. “Anyways- I’m gonna head to bed, early day at work tomorrow, you gonna go join the guy?”, she pointed down the hall. “Yeah yeah I’ll join the idiot in a second- just gonna get some water”, (Y/N) said tiredly.

Snuggling up on the couch, she sipped her water. The quietness was calming, the fact that everyone was at rest and she was the only one around southend her in a way. The fact that Billy was sleeping soundly in her bed, gave her a different feeling. Things with him- had gone by so quickly, and it was only just beginning. It was nice being with someone where the relationship had lasted longer than more than a few hours. Her past flames- had simply been one night stands, meaningless things to shy her away from Steve, but Billy was different. She actually liked him, and even though he came off as a jerk- he seemed really sweet on the inside. Though, she couldn’t help but wonder how Steve was feeling right now, the bomb had been dropped on him nearly two hours ago- it must be overwhelming to know your best friend was holding back feelings for so many years.

(Y/N) was just about to head to bed, till she heard a knock on the door. Who was here at this time of night? She opened the door slightly, and who she saw she didn’t expect. There Steve stood, his face red and puffy with tears in his eyes. His body was shaking, his shoulders were slumped over. He looked awful. “She- doesn’t love me- it’s bullshit! It was all bullshit!” He stuttered as his body continued to quiver. (Y/N)’s heart ached at his words, what had Nancy done this time? She didn’t know what to say, it’s not like she could’ve let him in. So, she just pulled him into a hug, “Steve-you can’t keep coming here like this- it’s not my job to fix you”, she tried to explain. “I know! I just don’t have anywhere else to go”, he cried. “I can’t tonight- it just isn’t the right time.” (Y/N) was attempting to tell him in the best way possible that Billy wasn’t there, but Steve caught on. “He’s here, isn’t he, Billy?”, Steve muttered angrily. “Out of all the guys in Hawkins- you chose him to get over me, that’s just flattering!” . Steve was making her feel sick, “Steve- I know you're hurting but you can’t take it out on me like that- it isn’t fair”, she pushed away from him. “I’ll talk about this with you tomorrow- when you're in the right state of mind, okay? Just please leave”, she pleaded. “Fine- I’ll see you tomorrow”, he breathed out harshly, walking back to his car.

She was on the edge of a breakdown, heart racing and choked up tears running down her face. This is not how she expected her evening to end- seeing Steve like that, broken and beaten again. (Y/N) thought she’d never live to see Steve crumble in her arms one more time- and with that she could’ve rested easy. At least she wouldn’t have to be alone tonight, she had someone waiting for her. Trying to stay quiet, she tiptoed down the hall. Opening the door, she walked in to see Billy sleeping soundly, the pink hue of her bedside lamp illuminating his features. She took notice of his leather jacket, jeans and boots scattered on the ground. That meant he was only in his boxers. Before joining him she slipped into an oversized AC/DC t-shirt and looked in the mirror, her hands grazing over the purple mark that had formed on her neck- the little bastard.

When (Y/N) laid in bed, even in his sleepy state Billy could notice the slight dip in the mattress. He groaned, “What took you so long…?”. (Y/N) chuckled softly at his tiredness. “Just an unexpected visitor, nothing to worry about”, she smiled reassuringly. “Well as long as you're okay, that’s all that matters”, he kissed her temple, pulling her into his chest. She snuggled into his side, sighing contentedly. She needed this. “Thank you”, she mumbled mindlessly. “For what sweetheart?”.

“For helping me start fresh”.

The couple held each other comfortably, sleep taking over them. (Y/N) rested her head on Billy’s torso, as he lazily made circles on the small of her back. Everything was blissful in that moment. Perfect. She’d deal with Steve tomorrow, for now, she had Billy Hargrove. Billy Hargrove with his strong hold and warm comforting body, Billy Hargrove who made her feel safe.

Author’s note:

Hope you all love the second chapter! Feedback is always appreciated & as always if you want to be added to the taglist comment down below ❤️!

Tag-list: @theblueslytherin @oopsiedoopsie23 @lulu-yuming @merc12-us @soullesstaco @unded-bride @holychocopie @nikkixostan @ellesimagines

[jaskierswolf]

Fuck Indeed 4/4

A Geraskier OnlyFans story

Part 1, 2, 3, - AO3

CW (for whole story): 18+ only, anal sex, masturbation, exhibition kink, sex work, rimming, sex toys, talks of blow jobs, Geralt bottoms but it’s mentioned they switch, biting (but no blood), Jaskier wearing lingerie and makeup.

Geralt was pretty sure he was dreaming. It felt like a dream. Dandelion, or Jaskier as he now knew him as, was sitting on his bed. It wasn’t particularly sexy, not yet anyway. Jaskier was wearing a baggy old hoody and shorts. He was wearing a pair of thick rimmed glasses and he looked… well he looked like he belonged there, which was really fucking with Geralt’s head. Didn’t he hate Dandelion? Weren’t they rivals?

Except that had all been in Geralt’s head.

Jaskier had genuinely been thrilled to meet him, and it was clear that the younger man found him attractive. The bitter feeling of hate in Geralt’s chest suddenly didn’t seem quite like hate anymore. If anything, it was the opposite, but that couldn’t be possible. They’d only met a handful of times in person. Geralt barely knew Jaskier outside of his videos, and tonight he would learn more about Dandelion in his videos too. They’d been through their boundaries and talked about different kinks they’d be willing to try, and occasionally the conversations had gotten off track. Jaskier would tell him about the songs he was working on for his next open mic night at the bar, Geralt would offer up a little fact about his cat, Roach, or they’d talk about Yennefer.

Geralt shook his head. He’d never expected to have a mutual friend with Jaskier, he supposed he should thank Yen really. She’d been too good to him.

“So… I’m fucking you, right?” Jaskier asked, pushing his glasses up his nose “Or did you want to save that for another video?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You can fuck me, and Jask?”

“Yes, darling?”

Geralt’s heart clenched at the pet name and he blushed. “Stop making this sound like you’re studying for a test,” he grumbled.

“Right, yes. Sorry. I’m just… I. I don’t know. Nervous?” Jaskier stammered “Bit different just masturbating… isn’t it?”

Geralt wasn’t sure. He hadn’t really thought about it, so he shrugged. “Did you want makeup for the video?”

Jaskier bit his lip, chewing on it before his tongue flicked out and swiped across his top lip. Geralt sighed. He hadn’t expected to be the calm one in this scenario but Jaskier had a lot of energy and a tendency to overthink things. So, Geralt sat next to him on the bed and, cupping the nape of Jaskier’s neck, pulled him into a soft kiss.

He’d expected their first kiss to be something more heated, panting and messy in the midst of fucking each other senseless, but this was something else entirely. Jaskier’s glasses pressed awkwardly into his cheek and he pulled back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” Jaskier muttered and tucked them into Geralt’s bedside drawer. “So they won’t get in the shot,” he explained, and then pressed their lips together again.

It was gentle, almost tender. Jaskier practically melted against him, sighing happily into the kiss, and Geralt took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, still not the blazing fire he’d been expecting but still brought warmth to his chest, tingling across his skin.

When he pulled away, breathless and dazed, Jaskier was looking at him like he’d hung the moon and stars. He swallowed and brushed his thumb along Jaskier’s cheek. “Better?”

Jaskier nodded. “Much thanks, I’ll umm... go and get my makeup sorted. Can you set up the camera?”

Geralt nodded. It didn’t take long to set up but he was grateful for the distraction whilst Jaskier finished getting ready. They were saving his lingerie for a later shoot, and Geralt was keeping his leather straps for another day. It would be pretty vanilla, but they were getting to know each other.

They’d considered fucking before hand but Jaskier wanted it to be more genuine on film.

So the first time Geralt was going to have sex with Dandelion was in front of a camera. Not exactly the most romantic affair.

He scowled and pushed that thought from his mind. He didn’t need a romantic affair, they weren’t dating, they were barely friends… it was just sex, and they’d get paid for it.

Right?

Shit.

“Right, all done! Now where were we, darling?” Jaskier was leaning on the doorway. He’d changed into a sheer black shirt and booty shorts that were doing wonders for his arse. His eyeliner was rough and smudged, highlighting his eyes beautifully.

He was beautiful. God, he was so fucking beautiful. How had Geralt ever managed to convince himself that he hated Dandelion? It had been easier to think that at the time, but Geralt realised now that he’d been falling in love with Jaskier the whole time.

He nodded, a little dumbstruck by his epiphany. “I’ll get the camera,” he mumbled as Jaskier perched on the edge of his bed, looking far more comfortable now he was in costume. Geralt hit record and went to sit with him.

“Hello, darlings,” Jaskier greeted warming, as if he were about to read a bedtime story and not fuck Geralt. The thought made Geralt smirk, he would have laughed but he managed to restrain himself. He didn’t want to start their first joint video by laughing.

He had never laughed in a video before, unlike Jaskier who kept his light and breezy, an endless supply of charm that drove Geralt mad.

“Now, as you can see, I have company today. Wolf, sweetheart, say hello,” Jaskier cooed, his fingers lightly tracing along Geralt’s cheek. The touch tickled, barely there and gentle. Geralt wasn’t sure whether he’d realised he was doing it.

“Hi,” Geralt muttered, making Jaskier laugh. He rolled his eyes and ran his hand up Jaskier’s thigh.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just perpetually grumpy,” Jaskier sang to the camera, “luckily he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Dandelion,” Geralt growled.

“Patience, darling.”

Jaskier winked at him and then flashed a smile at the camera. They’d agreed that Geralt’s face would remain out of shot but Jaskier was quite happy to reveal his, making the blocking a little easier. Jaskier shifted on the bed and pushed Geralt back as he straddled him, his hands running up inside his shirt. “Now,” Jaskier purred “Let’s take this off shall we, it’s such a waste hiding that gorgeous body of yours.” Geralt’s shirt was pushed up but Jaskier got distracted kissing at his neck before they could remove the garment. Geralt closed his eyes, gripping Jaskier’s arse. It was firmer than he’d expected, more toned. Fuck, he’d known Jaskier was not weak but there was something about his energy that made you forget. He nipped at Geralt’s neck, a sharp pain that made Geralt moan softly. With Jaskier’s hips rolling against his cock it didn’t take him long to get hard.

Reluctantly he shoved Jaskier off his neck, shuffling so he could sit up. He yanked his shirt off and tugged at the hem of Jaskier’s, but the bastard swatted his hands away.

“Not yet,” Jaskier purred, crawling back off him and pulling Geralt up so he was kneeling up, displayed perfectly for the camera. “Isn’t he just gorgeous?”

Geralt felt his cheeks heat up at Jaskier’s praise. “Dandelion…” he groaned.

Jaskier pressed another kiss to his neck before moving behind him, hands tracing the lines of his abs, up to pinch his nipples. “So beautiful, and I’m the one that gets to touch you,” Jaskier purred in his ear, so low that Geralt wasn’t even sure whether the camera would pick it up.

He swallowed, arousal beginning to cloud his mind. There was something more about those words, private, just for them.

“Fuck.”

“All in due course, my love,” Jaskier said, brushing his hair from the back of his neck and pressing a kiss there. His hand reached down to cup Geralt’s cock in his pants. “Hard already, Wolf?”

“Hmm,”

“And all for me, lucky me,” Jaskier bit down on Geralt’s neck as he gripped Geralt’s erection. Geralt gasped, feeling Jaskier’s cock pressed against his arse. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the fire in his veins but it was no use. It had been bad enough imagining Dandelion in the room with him, but this was something else altogether.

“Get on with it,” he growled, but Jaskier seemed more than happy to take his time, biting bruises along his shoulders, pulling Geralt’s head back, fingers tangled in his hair. Every tug at his scalp sent shivers down his spine and he felt like putty in Jaskier’s capable hands.

“I could spend hours worshipping you, Wolf,” Jaskier said with a sigh “but not tonight. You’re getting impatient already.” Jaskier kissed Geralt’s neck just below his ear “Can I eat you out?”

“Fuck, yes…” Geralt breathed, heart pounding in his chest.

“On your back,” Jaskier hummed as he moved round to the front, blocking the view of the camera as Geralt shifted positions. It would probably be an awkward angle for the camera. Jaskier seemed to realise this at the same time and, placing a kiss to Geralt’s shoulder, moved to adjust the set up. He winked at the camera as he moved it “Wouldn’t want you to miss the view, darlings.”

Geralt took the opportunity to take his trousers off, leaving just his boxers. “Dandelion, you’re overdressed.”

“Nonsense, I’m exactly how I want to be,” Jaskier smirked and then crawled back onto the bed, pressing kisses up Geralt’s calves, on the inside of his knee and up his thighs, nipping gently as he reached the edge of Geralt’s underwear. He looked completely sinful, dark eyes gazing up at him in adoration, a flush on his cheeks. Geralt wanted to keep this moment forever, on the edge of something new, a fire burning bright between them.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Geralt groaned.

“Oh, I know,” Jaskier nosed at his cock through his underwear. “Hmm… perhaps I should start with this?”

Geralt swallowed, unable to find the words to answer as visions of Jaskier’s mouth stretched out around his cock sprung to mind. It was almost irresistible, almost. It wasn’t in their plan for the video, and the promise of Jaskier’s tongue in his hole was too tempting, so he shook his head. “Not this time.”

Jaskier pouted up at him through his eyelashes. “Next time then,” he vowed, and pulled at Geralt’s underwear. Geralt grunted as he lifted his hips off the bed, his cock springing free finally, but that wasn’t what Jaskier was focused on. He wasted no time in spreading Geralt’s cheeks and pressing kisses around his rim, humming happily as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“Fuck…” Geralt bit the inside of his cheek, Jaskier’s name almost escaping in the heat of the moment. “Dandelion,” he choked out instead.

Jaskier hummed again, licking gently, teasing… always fucking teasing. “Just… fuck,” Geralt moaned as Jaskier’s tongue delved deeper inside him. It had been years since someone had offered to do this for him. The pleasure was building with every kiss, every movement of Jaskier tongue. He was already a mess beneath him. “More.”

He heard Jaskier laugh, then the click of the lube bottle. “Alright, love.”

Even in his hazy state of arousal the nickname made his heart flutter a little faster. Jaskier had never used that towards the camera. That was just for Geralt. There were a lot of things that Jaskier had done today that were just for him. Geralt bucked his hips as Jaskier pressed a finger inside him, quicker than he’d been expected but it hadn’t hurt. “Shit…” he hissed.

“Good?” Jaskier hummed, looking up at Geralt with wide eyes, his lips were wet and there was spit on his chin. He looked like some kind of demon, tempting Geralt with his very existence. Geralt groaned and grabbed a fistful of Jaskier’s hair, pushing him back down. Jaskier moaned but quickly got back to work, using both his tongue and his fingers to open Geralt up. Geralt grunted under Jaskier’s touch until he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed more… he needed Jaskier’s cock.

“Dandelion,” he growled.

Jaskier pulled back. “Yes, love?”

“Just fuck me already.”

Jaskier smirked, instead of answering he licked a stripe up Geralt’s cock, kissing the tip. “If you’re sure?”

Geralt pulled Jaskier off, which only made him moan. The bastard clearly enjoyed being thrown around a bit. “Ah, yes, alright then.”

Jaskier licked his lips and flashed a seductive smile at the camera before pulling off his shorts, and Geralt’s mouth went dry. He wasn’t wearing any underwear…

“Fuck…”

Jaskier just winked. He dripped some more lube onto his palm before gripping his cock, stroking himself and watching Geralt with a smug smile. “Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?”

Geralt turned away from him, he knew, of course he did. He made porn videos for money… but knowing it and hearing the words from Jaskier, it was too much, and he wanted to keep hearing it. For as long as Jaskier wanted him.

“The most handsome, beautiful, pretty thing,” Jaskier cooed as he moved into position, pressing his cock against Geralt’s arse. He leant forward to capture Geralt’s lips in a kiss as he finally pushed inside. Geralt moaned into the kiss, fingers gripping onto Jaskier’s back. When Jaskier was fully seated inside him he stilled, letting Geralt adjust as they kissed, open mouthed messy breaths.

“Move,” Geralt gasped.

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned and slowly pulled out, torturously, taking his sweet time.

Geralt groaned and buried his face in Jaskier shoulder, after a few leisurely thrusts, Geralt growled and bucked up against his lover. “I said move, Dandelion.”

Jaskier cursed again and bit at Geralt’s lip as the pace quickened. Every movement coursing pleasure through Geralt body until every inch of his skin felt alive, and he wasn’t sure which moans were his and which were Jaskier’s. They were one, moving with each other, Jaskier shifted slightly, his cock hitting Geralt’s prostate, shooting sparks through him.

“Shit,” Geralt gasped “Dand.. fuck.”

“I’ve got you, love,” Jaskier panted, and reached down to grip Geralt’s cock as he kept hitting that spot. It could have been seconds or hours later when Geralt’s vision blacked out and he came, a nameless guttural moan tearing from his throat. Jaskier keened and bit down on his shoulder before collapsing on top of him.

They were both sticky with sweat and Geralt’s cum but he couldn’t move, trapped beneath the surprising heavy weight of Jaskier, who was still moaning softly, shallow movements of his hips. “Fuck…”

Geralt hummed in agreement, hiding his face in Jaskier neck, but they couldn’t enjoy it for long. Jaskier always signed off his videos and today would not be the exception.

Jaskier let out a shaky breath as he rolled off Geralt, reaching for the camera. Geralt noted with pride that his hands were shaking. “Well, darlings… until next time.”

Geralt couldn’t see it but he knew Jaskier was winking at the camera. He always did. “Grab a cloth whilst you’re up.”

Jaskier groaned, falling backwards onto the bed at Geralt’s feet. “Not up, very much not up.”

“Grab a cloth… and I’ll kiss you,” Geralt bargained.

“I’ll kiss you, if you let me take you to dinner?” Jaskier sat up, blue eyes challenging him, brave, bold… but a glimmer of vulnerability.

Geralt smiled. “Deal.”

“And we get to do this again?” Jaskier added.

Geralt laughed and shook his head. “Too late, deals made.”

Jaskier’s looked horrified and crawled up to straddle his hips once more. “But… Geralt?”

Geralt grinned and pulled him down into kiss.

_____

Tag list: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @slythnerd @hailhailsatan @thecomfortofoldstorries @gelos  @moonysourenza @frances-the-red @honeysuckletook @elliestormfound @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral  @kittynannygaming @stinastar @fontegagrilledcheese @baka-yu @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @kueble @justjess94 @kozkaboi @wherethewordsare @bastardofmothman @dapandapod @damatris @mayastormborn @jaskierslastbraincell @dazedandinked @jaskierstark @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher

[antebunny]

family dinner

Modern AU Jin siblings vs. Jin Guangshan (crossposted on Ao3):

Jin Zixuan leans against the side of his yellow Audi and checks his Rolex Daytona watch. Behind his car are the massive white gates of the Jin mansion, a massive complex with no less than four houses, two gardens, one lotus pond, a garage for the rest of his car collection, and a private movie theater in the basement. Normally, he would open the gates and let himself through, but tonight, Jin Zixuan has no intention of going down the lonely, two-lane road to the main house alone.  

The time is 7:18. He has only twelve minutes left, and no one is here. Jin Zixuan shifts nervously in his Stuart Hughes suit (Diamond Edition) and represses the urge to check his watch again. Instead of checking it, he worries until his heart is thump-thumping in his chest and all he can feel is the bitter cold air on his bare fingers. 

He’s twenty-seven years old, with a two year old son, and he’s still nervous about the coming dinner. He would be less nervous if his mother was coming, but she hasn’t been back to the Jin family home since she divorced his father almost a decade ago–long enough to see Jin Zixuan through high school–and he was not about to ask. Instead, he’d asked the rest of his family.

He’s musing on the meaning of family and obligation when the first car pulls up. It’s a white Rolls-Royce, and it carries a single passenger: Jin Zixuan’s younger brother, Jin Guangyao. His half-brother wears a crisp dark cream-colored Brioni suit, and he adjusts the small osmanthus flower tucked into the pocket when he straightens. 

“No one else is here yet?” Jin Guangyao questions, like he can’t see it with his own eyes.

“Not yet,” Jin Zixuan says shortly.

His brother continues smiling despite his terse tone. Jin Guangyao has never been anything but friendly to Jin Zixuan since he came into his life several years ago, which is why Jin Zixuan is half-terrified of him. The other half of him wants to intervene everytime his father so much as looks in Jin Guangyao’s direction, and half of the time he does, so needless to say, they have a rather complicated relationship. 

“I’m sure they’ll be here,” Jin Guangyao offers, still smiling sweetly.

Jin Zixuan isn’t so sure. Realistically, there’s no reason for all of them to come just to support him. The only reason Jin Zixuan is going, beyond the convention of his father’s annual dinners, is because Jin Zixuan is in fact aware of his skills in life. As of the moment, Jin Zixuan is the sole inheritor of his father’s fortune. Despite the number of half-siblings that Jin Zixuan apparently has, or perhaps because of it, he is confident that he will always be the sole inheritor. That is, unless Jin Guangshan decides to withhold the inheritance to remind Jin Zixuan that he is the only way Jin Zixuan can provide for his family. So Jin Zixuan needs the inheritance, no matter what A-Li says.

Which is why he’s standing here, on his twenty-seventh birthday, trying not to look too nervous as his brother calmly locks his car door. 

“Thank you for coming, A-Yao,” Jin Zixuan finally says, forced but sincere. 

Realistically Jin Guangyao knows that he can expect better treatment from his half-brother than he can with Jin Guangshan as the CEO of Jin Industries, but naively Jin Zixuan still hopes that Jin Guangyao has some room for frivolous things like brotherly affection and genuine kindness. 

Jin Guangyao puts his keys in his pocket and walks around his car to the gate. He’s not a moment too soon: a silver car rolls in after Jin Guangyao’s Rolls-Royce, and parks just a little too close for comfort. 

The first out of the silver car is Qin Su, from the driver’s seat. The gold trim and white hem of her floor-length evening gown trails over the edge of the car as she exits, and as she stands up Jin Zixuan realizes that she really went all-out. She’s dressed in white and gold, complete with a pink peony flower, and her hair and face indicates that she spent at least two hours getting ready. From the way she walks up to him in her white high-heels, Jin Zixuan knows that she knows that she’s stunning. If she wasn’t his daughter, Jin Guangshan would probably make a comment about it. He might anyway. 

“The new style suits you, A-Su,” Jin Guangyao says politely.

“Thank you,” Qin Su says, her pretty eyes flashing. “It’s what my mother wore.”

She doesn’t specify when, but Jin Zixuan winces anyway. “I didn’t think you would come,” he says helplessly. 

“And miss a chance to ruin your father’s evening?” Qin Su retorts, and smiles beatifically. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The last sibling emerges from the copilot seat. “It’s your birthday celebration, isn’t it?” Mo Xuanyu points out. 

He’s wearing ripped jeans, a tank top, and heavy black eyeliner and eyeshadow. Jin Zixuan wisely does not comment. Mo Xuanyu pulls on a black puffer jacket as he speaks, which makes him the only one with adequate protection from the chilly February temperature. He’s also the youngest here; Qin Su picked him up from his university on the way here. 

“Technically,” Jin Zixuan says instead. 

Mo Xuanyu shrugs and jams his hands into his pockets. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Jin Zixuan checks his Rolex again, and the golden watch hands proclaim the time to be 7:24. “We’re still waiting on a few more people who said they’d show up.”

 “Who?” Mo Xuanyu asks curiously, and it’s at that moment that a flaming red and black sports car comes roaring down the road, and Mo Xuanyu’s face lights up. 

The door is kicked open, and Jin Zixuan’s brother-in-law flings himself out. Wei Wuxian emerges in a black Armani suit, now the tallest person in their smallest gathering, and grins. 

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Mo Xuanyu squeaks, and Jin Zixuan holds back a wince. His youngest brother has the most embarrassing idol crush on Wei Wuxian, which is only embarrassing because–

“Mn.” Out of nowhere, Jin Zixuan’s brother-in-law (-in-law?) places himself in front of Wei Wuxian, straightening his white suit coat like it’s even a millimeter out of place. He glares Mo Xuanyu down, and Jin Zixuan goes from feeling embarrassed for his brother to feeling sorry for him. 

“You brought him?” Jin Zixuan complains to Wei Wuxian before he can stop himself.

“Where I go, Lan Zhan goes,” Wei Wuxian retorts. They’re already holding hands. Jin Zixuan hates this. 

Wei Wuxian’s husband levels his icy glare on Jin Zixuan, and suddenly Jin Zixuan is imagining that glare leveled at his father when Jin Guangshan inevitably tries to get world-renown bioengineer Wei Wuxian to work for Jin Industries again. Perhaps bringing him along isn’t such a bad idea after all. 

“It’s lovely to see you,” Qin Su offers, and the glare is gone, just like that. 

“But not as lovely as you are tonight,” Wei Wuxian says smoothly, and the glare is back.

Jin Zixuan pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers and sighs. He’s so busy sighing that he almost misses the arrival of the last car, a violently purple Jaguar that for once is not racing around at nearly illegal speeds. 

“You’re late,” Jin Zixuan snaps, when the driver’s door opens. 

“I was helping my sister get ready, asshole,” Jiang Cheng snaps right back, slamming his door closed. He straightens the cuffs of his dark purple suit before opening the copilot door for said sister. 

Jiang Yanli ducks gracefully out of the car, and Jin Zixuan’s heart immediately goes gooey in his chest. He’s afraid that his face does, as well, because Wei Wuxian makes a disgusted face at him. 

She wears a layered dress of lavender and rose pink, and the skirts skim over the ground as she steps out of the car. In her arms, she carries a precious little bundle that Jin Zixuan loves with all his heart, and now he knows that his face has gone all gooey with emotions because his wife smiles at him, which really doesn’t help with the emotions. 

Jin Zixuan holds out his arms, and Jiang Yanli places their tiny baby bun in his arms. 

“I’ve finally got him sleeping,” Jiang Yanli says in a hushed voice, and for a moment there’s silence as everyone welcomes the newest, sleepiest, cutest little dumpling to their growing party. 

Jin Ling’s little face is puckered up even in his sleep like he’s thinking hard. Jin Zixuan’s small, sweet bao of a son is dressed in a matching pair of a white jacket and snowpants, complete with a white yarn hat that’s the size of his entire head. 

“It’s good to see you, A-Li,” Qin Su says finally, once the moment of silence has passed.

Jiang Yanli smiles. “You too, A-Su,” she says. “We should get the group back together one of these days.”

Jin Zixuan isn’t sure whether he’s terrified or pleased. Jiang Yanli’s friends from college are a force of nature, and given that they’ve gone on to become a rising neurosurgeon, an environmental scientist, an urban planner, and in Jiang Yanli’s case, a child psychiatrist, they’d be even more a force of nature now. 

“I wanna hold him,” Wei Wuxian says in a stage whisper.

Jin Zixuan directs his best glare at him, holds his sweet little dumpling closer, and prays that his wife won’t cave to Wei Wuxian’s puppy dog eyes. 

“I believe it’s time,” Jin Guangyao intervenes smoothly, swooping in before a fight can break out. 

Jin Zixuan shoots him a grateful look, even though he’s mostly sure that Jin Guangyao didn’t intervene just so that he wouldn’t have to turn his darling baby son over to his brother-in-law. 

“It is 7:30,” Qin Su agrees.

Mo Xuanyu cracks his fingers, grins wickedly, and then puts on a pair of black shades, just to match his black puffer jacket. “Let’s go ruin Dad’s night.”

“Can we not get him to call the cops on us?” Jin Zixuan asks, one step short of begging. 

“My dad is on speed dial in case anyone needs a ride,” Qin Su says, tucking her phone into her purse. 

Of course. The CEO of Qin Industries on speed dial. Though Jin Zixuan supposes that that move is fair, considering that Qin Cangye knows his daughter is going to Jin Guangshan’s house. 

“I think we have enough cars,” Jin Guangyao says.

“But let’s not burn the house down?” Jin Zixuan pleads. It’s true that he asked all of them to come, but please come, I don’t want to be alone with A-Li is not the same as please, I want to pay for damages. 

“No promises.” Wei Wuxian smirks. 

“Nothing that can be proven,” Jiang Cheng adds. Jin Zixuan belatedly remembers that he’d invited them because he knew they would defend A-Li if his father even looked at her funny. Which he might. God, Jin Zixuan hated his family.

“What else is family for?” Wei Wuxian retorts. 

Oh no. Jin Zixuan’s heart is going all gooey again, and this time it isn’t from the adorable sleepy bun in his arms. He furiously tries to force down a blush that heats his cheeks in the cold winter air. 

Jiang Yanli notices, because of course she does, and she steps closer to pat his arm. “He won’t burn the house down,” she says reassuringly. 

Jin Zixuan is privately still dubious, but he doesn’t argue. He turns to the grand white gates. Jin Guangyao stands on his left and half a head shorter, and Jiang Yanli stands to his right. His two other siblings and three in-laws gather behind him. 

Then, with his family dressed to the nines and ready for war, Jin Zixuan unlocks the white gates and sets forth to ruin his dad’s night. 

[elvendara]

Sugar and Spice Day 1

July 12th

Ice Cream Date

Yoosung opened the door and stepped into the airconditioned shop. He checked his phone. The profile picture of his date was on the screen. The man had red hair, green eyes, and freckles. He was also wearing eyeliner which made the green of his eyes really stand out. He had been surprised when they matched, but also excited and had said yes when the man, Saeran, had DM’d him and asked him on a date.

Looking around he couldn’t see a single red head. He checked the time. Yoosung was a little early so maybe he had arrived first. He made his way to a table in the front by the window. Watching the people walking outside he wondered again if he’d be stood up. Why would an attractive guy like Saeran even give him a second glance? His attention was inward and he didn’t notice those few people he passed.

“Yoosung?” he heard, and paused, turning slowly to see who had called him. A man with white hair and pink tips was looking at him. Yoosung looked him over, the hair was different, but he recognized the brilliant green eyes, like the ocean depths.

“Saeran?” he asked.

“Yeah.” The man grinned as he stood. “Sorry, I keep forgetting to change my profile pic.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. Yoosung smiled, noting how differently they were dressed. Saeran wore a red shirt with a black leather coat, said coat having metal chains and zippers, most of which didn’t seem to have a specific function. There was a black collar around his neck with metal spikes and a matching cuff on his right wrist, his nails painted black. He wore black jeans and heavy biker boots.

In contrast, Yoosung wore his pink metal hair clips, keeping his blond hair out of his eyes. He had decided to match his hair clips and wore pink eyeliner and gloss. His outfit was an off the shoulder pink crop top with a purple paint splatter pattern, skinny purple jeans and pink platform sneakers. Around his left wrist was wrapped a pink, blue, and purple beaded necklace and his nails were a glittering deep pink. He suddenly felt like an over sprinkled strawberry ice cream cone.

“Well, it’s really nice to meet you.” Yoosung said, holding his hand out to shake.

“You too, you look great.” Saeran said as he took Yoosung’s hand in his. He held it longer than he needed to, but Yoosung didn’t mind. Those green eyes locked onto his own amethyst ones were mesmerizing.

“We should probably order huh?” Saeran said, letting go of his hand. It suddenly felt cold and lonely.

“Sure.” Yoosung strode towards the ice cream display. As he walked past Saeran, he felt the man put his right hand on his lower back, as if guiding him. He kept it there, walking up beside him until they were in front of the display case, when he took his hand off. Again, that feeling of pressing coldness and emptiness.

“What can I get for you?” The girl behind the counter asked. She must have been no older than sixteen. Her brown hair was held back in a ponytail, her chocolate-colored eyes intent on Saeran. It wasn’t difficult to see she was enamored by him. What was it they said? Girls like bad boys, right? Well, Saeran sure fit the stereotype, though it seemed to Yoosung that he was quite gentle. Maybe the tough guy look was a mask to keep people at bay? He really wanted to find out.

Yoosung watched as Saeran practically salivated over the choice of ice cream. He ended up with a waffle cone and three scoops of ice cream, vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. It made Yoosung grin to see how much like a little boy in a candy store he looked like.

Yoosung ordered a cup with a brownie at the bottom and two scoops on top, mint chocolate chip and butter pecan. The green reminded him of Saeran’s eyes. He felt his cheeks blush when he ordered it. They took their seats and began to eat.

“You really like ice cream huh?” Yoosung said.

Saeran’s eyes went wide, then softened. “I do, I like sweet things.” He eyed Yoosung and smirked before suggestively licking his ice cream. Yoosung swallowed, feeling like a fish on a hook being eyed by a hungry fisherman. It should feel uncomfortable, but it only raised his temperature with excitement. He fiddled with his ice cream, taking a spoonful and gulping it down.

“So, on your profile it says you like gardening? I have to be honest…” Yoosung set his spoon in his cup and leaned forward towards Saeran, “…I kind of thought that was a lie, or at least an exaggeration?” he stated jokingly.

Saeran threw his head back and laughed, his Adam’s apple bouncing, straining against the studded collar around his neck. “Oh no, it’s true. I like gardening. Sometimes it’s nicer to be around a bunch of beautiful flowers and plants than around people. They’re easier to understand at least.”

“Must be nice, I have a black thumb myself, I couldn’t even keep an ivy alive! It’s supposed to be one of the easiest plants not to kill.”

“True, aside from cactus, maybe you should start with one of those.” Saeran teased.

“Maybe. It certainly couldn’t hurt to add some greenery in my apartment.” Yoosung shrugged.

“How about you? Everything on your profile true?” Saeran asked.

“I think so. Well, maybe I tried to make myself look better than I am.” He laughed.

“How so?”

“I might have forgotten to mention how much time I spend on gaming.” He stated. Saeran laughed again, making Yoosung feel accomplished in a way. For some reason, it didn’t seem like Saeran laughed a lot. There was something behind his eyes that spoke of great pain.

“I think I can handle a little gaming in a boyfriend.” Saeran said, once he was in control again.

The statement startled Yoosung. Boyfriend? He was too stunned to speak.

“How come you’re on a dating app anyway? You seem like an attractive guy, smart, charming, and fun.” Saeran asked. Yoosung wondered for a brief moment if he was teasing him again, but no, he seemed genuinely interested.

“Well…” Yoosung shrugged, “…I was pretty popular in high school, but too focused on schoolwork to have time for a girlfriend. And when I started university, it seemed like whoever I liked didn’t like me back, and whoever liked me, I wasn’t interested in. I don’t know, most girls just called me ‘cute’ and treated me like a puppy. Though that didn’t feel so bad either.” He was a little embarrassed to admit that part, but why not?

“Girlfriend huh?” Saeran glanced down at the forgotten ice cream in his hand. Yoosung was about to speak but then he saw the smirk on the other man’s face. “How did you end up here with me then?”

“I didn’t choose a preference. Honestly, I barely glanced at the app, even when there was a match. But…when I saw your profile, I couldn’t help myself. I had to know more.”

“So I intrigued you? Is that it? Why?”

“You seemed like such a contradiction. The fact that you were hot didn’t hurt either.” Yoosung said. He surprised himself with his boldness, yet he hoped he would get another laugh out of the man. He wasn’t disappointed.

Saeran rubbed his mouth, as if this was more than his muscles were used to, then he looked up at Yoosung. There was a splash of color across the apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. It made his freckles stand out. So Cute!

“I…I really like you Yoosung.” He whispered, as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

“I like you too.” He reached his left hand out and laid it on Saeran’s right hand. The studded wrist cuff the other man wore and the pastel necklace wrapped around his own wrist were a striking contrast that was more than aesthetically pleasing.

[hajimewhore]

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 2.1k words    ➷Humor, fluff, awkwardness, mild miild nsfw but not explicit, I will say I can only assume this kinda thing happens when you swap bodies lol    ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, ✈Part 3, Part 4

You initially dreaded the conversation with Hajime’s parents, wincing on the way through the door with a slight panic washing over you. But after a short and pleasant talk with them, you came to find the conversation flowed more naturally than you’d anticipated.

They’re not as doting to Hajime as they are to you, you note, but they’re friendly and pleasant and you feel as if you’re talking to your own family. Much like your own parents wanted a son, Hajime’s always wanted a daughter, so they often acted as your second set of parents. You feel a bit silly in retrospect, they’re as charming as ever with Hajime as they are with you.

They mostly inquire about Hajime’s day, and after a bit you excuse yourself to ‘study’, escaping to Hajime’s room. You’re beginning to feel positive about the next school day after the interaction, confidence boosted.

Who knew you would turn out to be such a good actress, better than you thought! Award winning, honestly. This whole body swap will be a cake walk. You can totally pull off being Hajime!

It seems you can definitely pull off the acting portion, but the sweat sticking to your clothes from your exhausting (emotionally and physically) practice is starting to make you consider the hygiene aspect of the swap. Which, has you feeling wildly uncomfortable.

This cosmic joke, shitty trope of a situation has you experiencing humiliation and embarrassment at levels you didn’t even realize were possible to achieve.

Normally after a grueling practice, you wouldn’t hesitate to hop straight into the shower and blast the hot water over your skin, feeling your muscles and aches soothed. But this isn’t your skin, or your muscles. You’re consistently reminded every hour, minute, and second, that it’s all Hajime. You should feel comforted that he’s definitely experiencing the same emotional crisis as you, but it only serves to heighten your distress.

Cheeks immediately heating at that, you recall the conversation with Hajime from earlier at the park.

“Just... let’s not think about it. And let’s definitely not talk about it. It’s a natural part of life.”

You know full well of the agreement you came to with red stained cheeks, but is there any way you could go without it? And drench yourself with Axe body spray? Or whatever it is guys like to use. You bet it would make a good repellent, no one would want to talk to you if you smelled like that.

You scrunch your nose, dashing the thought immediately, definitely not. Not only would it make you feel gross, Hajime would whack you first thing in the morning, and probably shove you in the shower himself.

‘No big deal, no big deal, it’s no big deal, you can do this!’

You find yourself chanting silent encouragements as you peel your shirt off, pitching it into a laundry basket. When you catch your reflection, a dark pink creeps across your features.

Yep, that’s still Hajime’s face, 

‘Gaaah, don’t look at me like that!’

You press your hands to your face, but you end up peaking through your fingers anyways. The low sweats definitely don’t help, and neither do Hajime’s well defined abs.

You’d been true to your word when you told Hajime you hadn’t seen anything, but now you’re a little desperate to know what the deal is downstairs.

You won’t look. You shouldn’t.  You don’t look. You definitely do not look.

You look,

pulling the sweats down, and shoving the briefs just past your thighs, you bite your lip at the revelation.

Okay.

Alright.

This is fine.

This is totally fine.

Hajime is just secretly packing.

WHAT THE FUCK?

You suppose it wasn’t necessarily a secret, it was always assumed of Hajime. You’ve also been privy to the third years’ cock talk at lunch, and he always did exude big dick energy, but damn Hajime.

Wait. Are you—

NOPE.

NOPE NOPE NOPE YOU ARE NOT DEALING WITH THIS RIGHT NOW.

You cover your face again, a recurring action today it seems, cheeks burning rampant and hotter than ever before. You feel a prickly hot and itchy feeling light a fire up your back to your neck, the heat of pure, unbridled, embarrassment coursing every vein.

Were you... getting a boner?

NOOOOOOO.

From being turned on by Hajime? While you are Hajime?

This is some paradoxical bullshit you are simply not having right now, not tonight, not tomorrow, and hopefully never again.

Despite the shame and humiliation beating down on your psyche, you risk a glance to see how much bigger he looks than before.

“Cold shower, yep. Cold shower helps, right?”

You immediately shove the briefs the rest of the way down, before hopping in the shower, starting it up at the coldest setting. Hopefully the freezing water will wash away not only your transgressions but also your mortification.

You squeak at the cold, bite your lip and shiver, tough it out, and will away the uncomfortable situation.

You sigh, hoping the morning will go smoother than the swell night you had, hopping down the steps of Hajime’s house.

You cross the street to meet up with him and Tooru, already seeing their figures across the road.

“Ha-Hey.”

You almost slip up with his name, but you make a clean save. Mentally patting yourself on the back, you glance to see Hajime’s bitter expression and—

Your jaw drops when you catch sight of... yourself. Your silent wish for a trouble-free morning is cast aside as you examine his appearance.

Hair unkempt, face completely bare, not even moisturizer or at least sunscreen to be seen, did he even try?

“Ha hey to you too, Iwa-chan.”

Tooru raises a brow at the odd introduction, clearly noting the slip up (and also the fact that Hajime usually settles for a short grunt and never a ‘Ha-hey’), but you can’t be bothered to entertain him right now with the current Hajime dilemma.

“Right, whatever,” you direct your attention to Hajime, “can I grab that thing I lent you yesterday?”

“What are you talking about? You’re being weird, Hajime.”

He warns you with a stern look, but you aren’t having it,

“I’m not, I know you have it, we can grab it right now. Tooru, you go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

You push Hajime back in the direction of your house, and Tooru frowns at his abrupt seclusion with zero explanation.

“Are you guys seriously ditching me?”

Tooru raises a brow, arms akimbo with a disgraced look.

“Yeah, we are, Shittykawa. Let’s go.”

You hate to diss Tooru without a solid reason, but it’s pretty on brand for Hajime, so you bite out the nickname with minor discomfort on your lips. You impatiently grab Hajime, before pulling him towards the steps of your house, Tooru’s complaints going unheard behind you.

“Hajime! You’re not wearing any make up! And my hair is a mess!”

You whine out, sitting him down at your vanity.

Hajime merely scowls,

“Seriously? That’s what this is about? Don’t scare me like that, I thought there was something wrong.”

He moves to stand, but you shove him back into the seat with a little more aggression than intended, you lowkey forgot how strong Hajime was.

And Hajime looks up at you with a incredulous expression, feeling a little scandalized, as a woman, that you would handle him like that.

“There IS something wrong though. I look awful! At least wear some foundation and mascara, that stuff is easy to apply!”

You pull out your make up box, flicking on the mirror light.

“I think you look fine this way,” he huffs, “you don’t need all that shit.”

A frown tugs at his lips, and you feel your heartbeat quicken at his earnest display. You bite back a wistful sigh, this is exactly the reason you’ve always been so drawn to Hajime. Rough around the edges, but there there’s no bullshit when it comes to him. He doesn’t disguise his intentions, doesn’t waste time saving face. He’s just genuine, unadulterated, Iwaizumi Hajime, what you see is exactly what you get, and you honestly wouldn’t have him any other way.

Setting aside your thoughts for another time to privately dwell on, you ignore the feeling. 

“Really? That’s nice of you to say. Keep going.”

You smile, pink dusting your cheeks. You hope your expression doesn’t look too soft as you continue to apply the makeup to his face.

“Fishing for compliments now? No way, Shitty-L/N.”

“Nooo! Don’t call me that!”

You pause mid powder to cry out in your indignation, to which he masterfully ignores fixating his gaze on something more interesting than your whining, like the window sill.

After a bit of complaining, back and forth bickering about how uncomfortable the make up feels, you continue with a light highlight and mascara. You stop once you’re satisfied with your work, not bothering to deal with any extras like eyeliner or eyeshadow.

“All this for what? It tickles, and you can’t even touch it.”

Hajime’s hand hovers over his cheek, careful not to smudge anything. You must’ve smacked his hand away too many times, it seems.

“You get used to it. Plus it can be fun to try different brands and colors, and the little confidence boost isn’t bad.”

“Not that you need it.”

Hajime sighs out, standing from the seat to stretch. You’re sure it’s meant to be an insult to the crude ego you (and Tooru) tend to display, but you sense an underlying meaning that winds up boosting your ego even more.

“Anyways, we’re all done! And with time to spare.”

You chrip, gleaming with pride at your work. Add that too the list of things you should be, actress, and make up artist (next to pro volleyball player of course).

Hajime glances to the mirror, “’looks nice, I guess,” he hums in very faint approval.

That’s as good as a compliment to you, so you’ll take it!

He shifts to make way for the door, hooking his school bag over his shoulder.

“And it was definitely easier to do it on you than myself. Hey, maybe when you learn how to put it on yourself, you can do it for me when we switch back?”

You hover around him eagerly, and he rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to not smack his own body.

“No way in hell. The most I’ll do while we’re switched is that eyelash shit and the foundation or whatever,” he pauses, averting his eyes, “and only because it makes you so happy for some damn reason.”

You grin, ecstatic with his unexpected compliance, pulling him into a hug,

“And that’s perfect, eyelash shit and foundation or whatever is good enough for me!”

“H-Hey! Knock it off!”

It feels weird, being so much taller and hugging your body, but it still feels right considering it’s Hajime despite it all.

He tentatively returns the embrace, albeit awkwardly with one arm.

“We’re gonna be late if we keep bullshitting. Let’s go!”

He gently pushes you off and hightails it out of your room, and you laugh trailing after his awkward stomps.

 “Also, wear your skirt higher!”

You call out behind him.

“What? No way in hell! This is the school standard, you always wear it too high!”

He spins around, uncomfortably smoothing out the skirt pleats as if the action could make it lengthier.

“I have nice legs, and I want to show it off!”

You growl, chasing Hajime down the stairs, grabbing onto the waistline of the skirt.

“That’s stupid and you know it. Just who are you trying to impress?! They shouldn’t like you for your legs!”

He holds a tight grip on the skirt and you scowl, prying Hajime’s hands away to yank up the garment.

“No one, it’s called fashion!”

You successfully tug the skirt higher, but a bit too much considering your panties are on full display.

You snort at the sight, “Hajime, you dog, are you wearing my strawberry panties?”

Hajime feels a sense of shame at the sudden breeze, mockery, and unfathomable humiliation.

“Knock it off, it’s just a school uniform idiot! And what the fuck else was I supposed to wear?!”

He tugs the skirt back down and you click your tongue, grabbing a fist full of the fabric to hike it back up. 

“What are you two doing, we’re gonna be late!”

Tooru swings the front door open with a huff, eyes locking onto the both of you. You freeze position, instantly dreading the conversation that’s sure to take place shortly, whereas the tall setter halts at the display before him.

His precious, dear, sweet, childhood best friend’s hands are grasping at his brutish, caveman, heathen of a best friend’s biceps.

Said precious bestie’s hands are trying to shove aforementioned despicable heathen’s grip from her skirt, cheeks bright red

“Uh, this... isn’t what it looks like?”

A/N: I had extra extra fun with this part hahahaa,, sorry for the cliffhanger but I had to do it to ya, next part soon!

taglist: @cybergovl​

Masterlist, Part 4