#oh yeah it was supposed to be like 2k max

[luv4fushi]

omfg i litr read everything uve written off ur masterlist I NEED MOREEEE. i love the way u write megumi especially, i couldn’t get enough of it. i hope you write more of him, my heart aches for more tbh 🥹 tysm for being such a good writer and feeding us starved readers well

tysm! i'm sooo glad i can be a good source of megumi content for you >_< i looove writing megumi so you'll be seeing sooo much more of him, dw! happy holidays!

this december

jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

it’s always colder on your own, especially around this time of year. you should be at home, bundled up with a warm cup of hot chocolate, but here you are in shinjuku, exorcizing curses with your ex boyfriend two weeks after your breakup with him. great.

content: post break up, aged up megumi (19/20), megumi is terrible at feelings, getting back together, fluff if you squint, a bit of angst, miscommunication, one bed (but it isn’t the main plot point sorry), megumi calls you baby like once, gojo is the best wingman, SHIBUYA ARC NEVER HAPPENED AND LIFE IS GOOD, not proofread im very sorry guys pls forgive me, kinda a word dump sry

word count: 5.8k (sigh this was supposed to be 2k words max)

click on my masterlist for more & merry christmas to those who celebrate!

it’s december 19th when satoru gojo tells you that he has a mission just for you. you’re less than ecstatic about it to say the least. the last thing you want to do is be sent to your death just shy of christmas day. you just want to rest your sore muscles and bask in the presence of your best friends. you’re not in the mood to kill any curses, mainly because you’ve just recovered from a previous mission.

“why me?” you groan.

gone are the days where you used to be a goody two shoes for satoru. you’re old enough to talk back now, not like when you had been a shy fifteen-year-old girl. besides, you’ve been around the silver-haired sorcerer long enough to know that he doesn’t mind the bite.

“sorry, kid,” satoru says with a shrug. at least he sounds genuine about it. “the higher ups requested for you specifically. they say you’ll get the job done in the cleanest way. we can’t have things getting messy before the holidays, right?”

“and you wouldn’t be the best choice?” you quip.

satoru only laughs. he ruffles your hair. even with your growth spurt and merciless training, he still towers over you. in a way, he’ll always be your mentor. “hey, i’m going out of town that weekend. give me a break.”

you huff petulantly. something about this mission seems fishy to you. you’re not nearly the strongest sorcerer out of the bunch of kids under satoru’s wings (not that you guys are kids anymore, but sometimes it’s hard to feel otherwise). hell, there’s the kyoto students. it feels like they never have to do anything. you wish that you were rebellious enough to chew utahime out for it.

“why couldn’t they just make yuta or megumi go?” you mutter under your breath. you stammer out megumi’s name and hope satoru doesn’t catch on to the way you can barely say it.

satoru knows about the breakup. why wouldn’t he? he’s basically megumi’s dad, even if the raven haired boy refuses to admit it. satoru’s six eyes mean you can’t hide anything from him (he’d been the first to know that megumi was head over heels for you).

satoru raises a brow. “oh, right. megumi’s coming along too.”

your face twists and you immediately whip around to glare at him. “you’re lying.”

“i wish,” he jokes. “i was really hoping i’d get a wedding invitation one day, you little rascal. i can’t believe you two broke up. maybe this’ll be a good thing!”

“i appreciate your honesty, but—”

“but megumi’s an emotionally constipated kid, yeah, that i know,” satoru laughs. he makes his way to the exit of his office which has you furrowing your brows. is your former teacher actually gonna just leave after making you come all the way here? how rude and so very in character of him.

“please, gojo,” you call out after him, “i don’t wanna go with him.”

“sucks for you,” satoru responds halfheartedly. “merry christmas. try not to take more than a week on this. you’ll have to pay the rest of the fee for accommodations if you do.”

“gojo!” you whine.

“it’s not a hard mission!” satoru insists like it’ll make your life any easier. “y’know, this time of year is when things get ugly. think of it as saving as many people as you can while putting in the least amount of effort!”

and then he teleports. your former teacher teleports away rather than being normal and walking out of the door. you roll your eyes and hope that he can sense it (you know he can’t).

so that’s why you’re here now. with your ex. on the elevator to your assigned room on the tenth floor. you’re so glad that it’s a normal hotel and not a love hotel. lord knows what you’d do if you had checked into a love hotel.

megumi hasn’t spoken a word to you since he broke up with you two weeks ago. it had been in the doorway to your apartment a few days after a particularly rough mission assigned to the both of you—the one you’re still recovering from. he’d pulled you in for a hug, whispering sweet words into your ear. he gave you a look, one of those looks that made him soften his usually sharp eyes.

“i think we should break up.”

and then came the pathetic whimper of yours. he had wiped your tears, even kissed them tenderly, before telling you that it wasn’t your fault—it was his. how cliche.

now as you stand next to him, you want to beat yourself up for not asking for closure. neither of you had explicitly stated that you two were going to be no-contact, but it hurts a lot less to push the idea of forever with megumi away to the back of your mind. besides, you two aren’t confrontational like that. not with each other, anyway.

“need help?” his tone is soft, tender—the tone he reserves specifically for you, the one that tells you he still cares.

you stare down at the luggage at your feet. you’ve always been a chronic overpacker, a habit that megumi knows of by now. he watches you curiously, hands itching at his sides. you can tell that he wants to reach out and grab your suitcase like he always does. he thinks he isn’t obvious, but you can always read through the lines, especially when it’s megumi.

“i’m okay,” you croak out, clearing your throat awkwardly.

the elevator dings and you make your way to your room. as much as you hate to admit it, you’re sort of glad that you and your ex boyfriend are sharing a room. perhaps his’ll be a good way to get closure, though you’re not really sure what closure entails.

what you don’t expect is to unlock the door and be met with a singular bed.

if satoru gojo didn’t have a layer of infinity coating his body (and if he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive), you would’ve wrung out his neck.

megumi simply walks into the room, setting his duffel bag down on one of the dressers opposite from the foot of the bed. he doesn’t comment on the lack of double beds, seemingly already aware of the set up.all he does is puff out a weary sigh. you suck in a breath and follow him inside, slipping your shoes off at the entrance.

you lug your suitcase in after you along with your duffel bag and backpack. you stumble forward and megumi’s arm snakes around your waist, steadying you.

“careful,” he mutters, nonchalantly taking your bag off our your shoulders.

it’s a quick series of movements; he swings your bag over his shoulders and places it on the dresser next to the one he’s claimed while guiding you softly to the side of the bed so that you’re not standing in the middle of the doorway.

you scrunch your face, feeling your heart thump against your ribcage. it’s stupid how he still has such a hold on you, even after two weeks of not seeing or talking to him. he’s just so caring, so gentle. it stings, like little the little cuts you get when fighting curses, when you realize that this is something you’ll have to learn how to lose.

“thanks,” you manage to mutter. you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. you know from the way your throat tightens that you’ll be crying soon if you force yourself to talk any more.

“i can take the couch,” megumi says.

it’s that easy with him; he’s a gentleman, so of course he’d take the couch. that’s the way megumi fushiguro is—he offers a solution before you even have the chance to complain. in your year and a half long relationship, that skill of his had been a saving grace.

“no, don’t bother,” you croak. “i’ll book another room.”

“really?” he asks. he stands up a little straighter, awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “i mean, i don’t mind sharing a room with you… we’ve..”

we’ve shared a room countless of times before.

megumi doesn’t have to continue his sentence for you to understand what he’s implying. you part your lips to speak, but nothing comes out except for a long, heavy sigh. your shoulders drop as you let the exhaustion seep into your bones. there’s no use arguing about it, not when you don't’ mind sharing a room with megumi, either.

“we’ve broken up,” you remind him in a quiet voice, like you’re afraid saying it out loud will make it truer than it already is.

megumi pauses. you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. “i know that, but … it’ll be fine. we’ve shared a room as friends before.”

he’s right, like he usually is. you two have shared a room before as just friends, but that had been as teenagers—back when you both harbored such hardcore crushes on each other that you two somehow didn’t notice.

“right,” you find yourself agreeing with a small nod.

“you should go get ready for bed.” megumi begins grabbing a few or the decorative pillow off of the bed. he places them gingerly on the brown couch tucked in the corner of the hotel room. “we’ll be getting up pretty early to deal with the brunt of the mission.”

to finish this mission as quickly as possible, you think.

and so you oblige and head to the bathroom. it’s december 19th, just a few days shy of christmas day, and you’re in bed with your ex boyfriend on the couch just a few feet away.

december 20th greets you with megumi hovering over you. he peers down at you with his messy bangs covering his eyes. they’re piercingly blue as he blinks. his lashes flutter perfectly, even in the early morning. your eyes meet his and you jolt awake.

“good morning,” he says. “your alarm has been ringing for a bit now, so i turned it off.”

you blink rapidly, getting the tiredness out of your eyes. “oh.”

he chuckles softly, just enough for you to catch it with your ears. he rises from his crouched position and heads to the front door. he spares you a glance over his shoulder before he heads out, presumably giving you the privacy you need. you let out a strangled breath before you swing your legs over the bed and head to the bathroom.

by the time you’re finished putting on your uniform, you swing the door to your hotel room open and see megumi leaned up against the wall, tapping away on his phone. his dark blue eyes flicker up to you and he turns away to head down the hall.

you furrow your brows. you can’t help but think that he’s being a little cold to you. it isn’t like you initiated the breakup. despite your frustration with his behavior, you can sort of understand why he wouldn’t want to be sweet around you; you two aren’t dating anymore and so it makes sense that he’d go back to being aloof in your presence, the usual way he acts around everyone else. losing that position in his life makes your stomach churn for reasons you’re less than willing to uncover.

your mission is a vague one; all you know is that it’s a clean-up mission. rather than a level 1 curse (or even a special grade), the mission consists of an acclimation of weak curses surrounding shinjuku. these missions are normally given to younger, more inexperienced sorcerers with the help of a senior sorcerer, but for an odd reason, it’s been given to you and megumi this year. megumi could’ve probably handled it himself. actually, you could’ve handled it yourself.

you bite your tongue to hold back on your complaints as you walk just a step behind megumi. he pauses regularly, waiting for you to catch up to his side. you roll your eyes in secret. does he not realize that you don’t want to walk next to him?

“it’s all just bars,” you mutter.

with that, you earn a tiny laugh from megumi. “well, yeah. this is the red-light district of shinjuku.”

you pale. “this sucks.”

“why do you think i wanted to come out here in the morning rather than at night?” he says, his tone strangely light.

“to deal with the brunt of the mission,” you repeat his words from last night sarcastically. you’re unsure as to what he’s talking about, so you think that it’s okay to give him a little bit of attitude.

he raises his brow but doesn’t comment on your sarcasm. instead, he says softly, “no, stupid. it’s because this is the red-light district. it’s unsafe for anyone, especially a pretty, young girl alone at night.”

your first thought is to coo and tease him. you think i’m pretty? it takes you half a second to remember that you two are broken up. you scoff, “i’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“i never said you weren’t,” megumi shoots back. “it would just be annoying explaining to the higher ups why you were fighting people and not curses.”

“i’m sure they’d understand,” you retort, frowning. you cross your arms.

“don’t be so pouty,” he says in that stupid, gentle tone he uses with you when you’re acting bratty.

you both decide to split up. well, it’s more like you demand the two of you to split up. you say it under the pretense that it’ll get the job done faster. besides, you both want to be home before christmas day, right?

there’s about two curses you cross paths with every hour. you’re starting to lose your mind. shouldn’t the streets be infested with them? you don’t even need a veil! all you have to do is give the weak curses just one punch and they vaporize on the spot. your head is running with hundreds of thoughts.

that’s when it hits you: the first years at the tokyo jujutsu school did come out here a week prior! maybe they did a bad job? but you remember nobara had been the one to lead the group. she may half-ass almost everything in her life, but she wouldn’t jeopardize her underclassmen for the sake of her freetime.

so why on earth are you here? it’s not like there are enough harmful curses for a mission to be assigned to you right before christmas, and to you and megumi of all sorcerers. you’re both strong enough to the point of having some kind of importance in the jujutsu world. the higher ups wouldn’t send the two of you on some stupid mission for the sake of it unless they’re planning some sort of secret execution. but even then, satoru gojo should’ve known through their lies to not send you or megumi. unless…he wants you two dead…?

you shake your head and bite your nails. the sun begins to set and you realize that you’ve been out here for longer than you expected. you’re starting to feel a chill in your bones—you had argued petulantly with megumi earlier about not wanting to wear your jacket despite it being the dead of winter; “it’s gonna get in the way!”

you always seem to forget the the sun sets earlier in the winter. it’s stupid how bright all the lights are in shinjuku. there isn’t a square foot of anything that isn’t lit up with neon signs reading out the names of clubs and bars. you see couples and large groups of people walking along the streets.

it’s lonely, you realize. it would’ve been less lonely with megumi.

you make your way to the meeting spot with megumi. you both share a few small words before retiring for the night. megumi says he wants to go sightseeing, even though there’s really nothing much to see. he doesn’t return to the hotel room until late at night.

when he slips into the only bed that the room offers, you chalk it up to the slight alcohol you smell on his lips. it feels so natural that you don’t push him away even though you should. his body is warm and you fit so perfectly against his broad chest that you think it’ll be okay for you to be a little selfish tonight.

“g’night,” megumi mumbles in his sleep.

you smile and nuzzle closer.

it’s december 21st as you realize how late it is in the day. megumi is back on the couch. you feel a tinge of disappointment in the bottom of your stomach.

to no one’s surprise, the sun is barely peeking over the buildings when you’re finally back in the red-light district. you’re doing the last bit of cleanup, but there’s really nothing much for you to clean.

tomorrow, you’ll be heading to a shopping mall, so you suppose you should do your best to sniff out the rest of the curses littering the place unless you want to stay here an extra day. the day is, yet again, slow.

it’s nearing 8 PM and you're finally sure that you’ve gotten rid of all the curses in the general area. you’ve been done for quite a while now, but you just haven’t found the courage to let megumi know that you’re ready to go back to the hotel room. a little sightseeing on your end wouldn’t hurt, right?

“hi, pretty.” a gravelly voice, battered by cigarettes, whispers in your ear.

you jump in surprise. you need to remember not to get too far into your head. you should’ve felt his presence coming from a mile away. it’s a terrible habit and satoru has scolded you for years about it.

“hi,” you mutter, pushing past his larger frame.

the man isn’t as nicely built as the men you know (but then again, your friends are jujutsu sorcerers, so it’s kind of hard to beat that), but he still towers over you. he’s got a squad of rough-looking guys behind him, smirking down at you.

“why’s someone like you alone?” he says, shoving his arm to loop around your waist.

you roll your eyes, getting ready to punch the man square in the nose. will you get in trouble? probably yes. will it be a funny story to tell? also probably yes.

“don’t touch my wife.”

the group of men turn their heads along with you to see megumi. his expression is shrouded with a mixture of anger and frustration. you blink in confusion—megumi usually looks pretty pissed off, but this is the most angry you’ve seen him in a while. and ‘wife’? what’s up with that?

“oh, my bad,” the man chuckles. “didn’t know this pretty thing was married.”

“this ‘pretty thing’ wants you to let her go,” you say with an overly sweet smile. your teeth clench and you hiss, “right now.”

the guy scurries down the sidewalk with his buddies trailing along, making fun of him for hitting on a married woman. nobody mentions the lack of a ring on your finger. nobody mentions the lack of a relationship, either.

“wife?” you scowl. “we’re broken up.”

“guys tend to back up when they know a woman is married. it’s the only way you can really, uh, get them to go away around here.”

you glare at him. “and how would you know? you come here often with girls?”

“...no?” he blinks, unable to comprehend your sudden burst of jealousy. “i sometimes get missions around here, though. pretending to be married was the easiest way—”

“we aren’t, though. we’re not even in a relationship.” you seem to be throwing that into his face a lot more than you should. you can’t help it, though. you still feel a little bitter about not getting a real reason as to why megumi wanted to break up.

“i was trying to help you.” he’s calm and collected, as heard through his voice. he walks up to you and takes your freezing hand into his much warmer ones. “let’s go home.”

“i don’t want to,” you argue.

“stop being a brat,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words. “you’re cold and you’ve been out here all day. if i hadn’t stopped those guys, you probably would’ve beat them up pretty badly.”

“i’m not a fucking brat!” you try to retract your hand, but megumi’s grip only tightens.

“baby, stop,” the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease. megumi sighs softly and pulls you to his chest. “why are you so worked up, hm?”

from the way he speaks, you can tell that he already has an inkling. the breakup. cuddling last night. hugging you now. everything.

you don’t realize you’re crying until he gently wipes his thumb under your eye. he has the audacity to have an amused grin plastered on his stupidly pretty lips. your vision is blurry but if it hadn’t been, you would’ve thrown a punch.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair. “it’s all my fault.”

“it is,” you whimper pathetically. all the tears and the emotions you’ve been holding back bubble up to the surface.

“don’t be upset,” he almost pleads. “let’s go back, okay?”

the night ends with megumi on the couch. neither of you bring up the argument or the fact that he had slept in your bed with you last night. you two don’t talk about the usage of pet names, either.

when you open your eyes on december 22nd, you’re surprised to see that megumi has already headed out for the day. you click your tongue in annoyance—he’s always been good at avoiding his problems when it comes to dealing with them, especially problems involving his emotions. you already know where you’re supposed to be headed, so you suppose that it’s for the best that he’d left before you.

the shopping mall is a long line of vendors and stores among other things. the snow on the ground is fresh—it must’ve snowed late last night after you’d fallen asleep. it crunches underneath your beat-up sneakers with each step you take. you’re not shocked when you end up wandering aimlessly, dipping in and out of stores with no real urgency to finish your mission.

there’s nothing to do anyway.

you’ve killed about 3 curses total and it’s really starting to look like you’ve been sent out here for busy work. you really should’ve figured that out the first day of the mission when you had to practically beg the curses to come out and fight you.

you find yourself in the front of a jewelry store, eyeing a pretty bracelet that you know would look stunning around megumi’s wrist. it’s one of those bracelets that clasp tightly. there’s a thicker band in the center with pretty carvings that seem to resemble some sort of swirly heart. it’s pretty, you have to admit.

without much thought, you buy the gift.

the seller has to clear her throat to get your attention when you don’t answer her question. “um, would you like this to be wrapped?”

you nod absentmindedly. “oh, yes. sorry. please wrap it.”

she nods in return and proceeds to wrap the bracelet in a tiny box, adorning it with a festive bow. you ask her to change it out for a different color, explaining that it isn’t a christmas gift and instead, it’s for someone’s birthday. she offers you a warm smile before switching it with a muted blue ribbon.

you return to the hotel, having to take an expensive taxi. you don’t mind—the bracelet has already made a decent-sized dent in your wallet. why not spend an extra amount on getting home? it’s not like jujutsu sorcerers are paid poorly.

reality hits you when you finally get back to the hotel room. you want to punch yourself for being so stupid. did you really just buy a birthday present for your ex-boyfriend?

you’re thankful that megumi hasn’t arrived yet. he seems to be determined to avoid you for as long as he can. you can’t blame him, either. you did give him quite a hard time yesterday.

you toss the box on to the dresser and head to the bathroom to splash some much needed cold water on to your face. maybe that’ll wake you up enough to clear your mind. you’ve acted out once during this trip already and you’re not really looking forward to any other possible outbursts.

you rinse your face and pat yourself dry with one of the face towels provided to you by the hotel staff. you hang it over the rack again and tiredly make your way to your bed. you halt your movements when you see megumi standing by the dresser, admiring your gift.

he looks up at you in surprise with the smallest grin on his face. it’s so subtle that you would’ve missed it had you not been dating him for nearly two years.

“is this for me?”

“no,” you quickly deny. his face falls and you cough out, “um, i mean.. yeah. i-i didn’t… i… happy birthday.”

he brightens, lips pulling up into a real, genuine smile. “you remembered?”

“why wouldn’t i?” you blurt gently. you bite your inner cheek to stop yourself from saying anything more.

“i dunno.” his voice is distant and low, like he’s trying to hold back his tears. “i just…i didn’t think i was deserving of a gift from you. thank you. i like it.”

you stand awkwardly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. “yeah, well…”

“can you help me put it on?” he asks, sitting at the edge of your unmade bed.

you feel your body heat up. part of you screams for you to stop. you shouldn’t do that. it’s far too intimate and you two are broken up. you’ve never been good at making decisions, though, so you sit next to him and feel the mattress dip.

he gives you a grateful look, one that you willfully ignore, and gives you his wrist. you clasp the bracelet on, fingertips just barely grazing his skin. your heart skips a beat and you have to inhale sharply before pulling away.

“thank you,” he whispers.

december 23rd is a sore reminder that life goes on. you had half-expected something to spark between you and megumi. perhaps he’d beg for you back, or maybe with less wishful thinking, he’d give you his real reason as to why he doesn’t want you anymore.

“i don’t think we need to go anymore,” megumi says when you come out of the bathroom after freshening up.

“huh? why not?”

“there’s nothing out there.” megumi’s voice is flat.

“i know, but we’ll get in trouble if we…”

“gojo probably sent us out here for fun.”

your lips part. megumi turns to you with a slight frown.

“don’t you think so too?” he asks, but you know it isn’t a question he’s looking to find an answer to. “why would the higher-ups assign a mission like this to a special grade sorcerer and a grade 1 sorcerer? if they needed that much manpower, this mission would’ve been deadlier. instead, we’re playing cleanup crew.”

“yeah, but..” you trail off, unable to think of a statement to refute his words. “if we go back now, we’ll get chewed out.”

“it’s just a scolding. you’ll be fine.” megumi stands up and stretches his arms.

you watch him cautiously as he begins to fold his clothes and throw them into his duffel bag. he doesn’t say anything else, letting the silence overtake the room.

“...are we leaving, then?” you ask meekly, not bothering to hide the slight quiver in your voice.

he pauses slightly. “do you want to stay here until christmas? this mission is stupid and you know it. there’s no point.”

why is his tone so cold all of the sudden? it’s as if you two hadn’t shared a moment last night before bed. does your gift not mean anything to him now that he’s cleared his mind with a good rest?

your eyes flicker to his wrist. the gold glimmers underneath the light and you realize that megumi doesn’t seem to hate wearing it. so why is he acting so … unpleasant?

you feel a lump in your throat. it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s able to upset you from just the tone of his voice. even his body language, usually fluid and smooth, is rigid with your presence. you want to tell him that you’ve enjoyed your time with him. you want to shake his shoulders and tell him that if you two cut your mission short, you might not get another chance to be near him again.

“do you still care about me?” you whisper instead.

he stills completely. “what?”

“this entire time,” you begin shakily, “you’ve been nice to me. you treat me like you always do. you’re always hovering over me even though you pretend you aren’t! you obviously still care, megumi.”

his adam's apple bobs as swallows. a beat of silence. then two. then three.

“i do care,” he admits sorely.

“then why did you break up with me?” you blurt. there it is, the question you’ve been meaning to ask. you both had seen it coming.

“because…” megumi winces as if he’s the one getting hurt from the ordeal. “because you deserve someone that’s normal. someone that isn’t a sorcerer. i can’t give you that life.”

you feel your chest swarm with anger. why does he always think he needs to sabotage himself to make others happy? this is something you’ve tried working with him on, but it seems like old habits are hard to kill off, just like your habit of loving him.

“why the hell would you decide that for me? when did i ever say i wanted a normal life?” you snap. your hands clench at your sides.

“it’s too early for this,” he says, his voice straining as he finally musters up the strength to look at you in your eyes.

“tell me, megumi. if that’s the real reason, then that is the most pathetic excuse for a breakup i've ever heard.” your voice cracks and you gulp down the oncoming sob that’s threatening to explode from your throat.

he inhales slowly and makes his way to you, holding you close against his chest. you should push him away, but you would rather let him hug you. you know that you can’t fight him, anyway.

“you…once said you wanted a regular relationship. when you got hurt a few weeks ago, i realized i couldn’t be that for you,” he confesses lowly. “i knew that you’d never find it in yourself to leave, so i figured i should just let you go for your sa–”

“are you kidding me?” you shout incredulously. “i said that when i was fifteen, megumi! before i even knew what being in love was like!”

he flinches against you. “but i…”

“you and your damn savior complex! i don’t need to be in a regular, normal relationship! i don’t need any of that, megumi! i’m a sorcerer, I won't ever get to be normal! in fact, it’s even better that i’m with you because you at least know what this life is like, you idiot! you’re always ruining the good things in your life because you—”

he takes his fingers to grab your chin and he pulls you in for a kiss. if the kiss is a ploy to shut you up, you hate to admit that it’s working. his tongue slips into your mouth and you melt against him. your arms loop around his neck as you desperately drag him down closer to your body. his hand grip your waist while the other clings to the small of your back.

you whimper out of instinct and he pulls away, lips bruised and breathless. it’s been so long since you’ve tasted him and you frown, tiptoeing to capture his lips again. you need to savor him, to feel him lips against yours again.

“baby, wait.” his chest heaves as he looks down at you. “don’t…don’t do this to me.”

“do what?” you ask, an edge to your voice. did he just reject you? even after all that?

“w-we gotta report back to—”

“we’re supposed to leave tomorrow,” you interrupt.

the gears shift in his head. “fine, but—”

“i’m still really fucking mad, but i just need you to kiss me right now,” you whine impatiently.

all megumi does is laugh when he swoops down to press his lips against yours.

it’s december 24th when you two find yourselves in satoru’s office. steam is practically rising from your ears as you try to compose yourself in front of your former teacher.

“... i wanted a wedding invitation.” satoru shrugs.

“you set us up!” you whine angrily. “gojo, are you serious?! isn’t this a little immature?”

megumi stays silent, averting his gaze. he suddenly finds the succulents on satoru’s desk very interesting. he’s never noticed that they’re all nearly dead! how cool.

your eyes shoot daggers at megumi's silence.

"we aren't gonna get married any time soon..." megumi mutters when he feels your pointy glare on him.

satoru raises his hands in mock surrender. “you two can’t blame me! it worked out! you two are back together now, right?”

“but did you have to make us look like fools out there?” you groan.

“you should’ve figured it out on the first day that the mission was a sham!” satoru exclaims, offense taking over his features.

“but still!” you’re borderline hysterical at this point, unable to believe that your former teacher of all people had to set up an entire fake mission so that you and your ex could talk your feelings out. “we would’ve figured ourselves out sooner or later!”

megumi nods. he feels like he should at least give you a little support even if he’s embarrassed out of his mind.

“oh really?” satoru’s voice drips with sarcasm. “you guys should be thanking me—”

“you’re so not getting an invitation to our wedding!” you grumble.

“wha—hey! i’m the one that got you two back together! besides, i’m megumi’s guardian! you can’t just not invite me.”

“watch me!”

“megumi, tell her that she can’t do that—hey! where are you guys going? invite me, you rascals—why are you guys leaving? we aren’t done discussing this! megumi, don’t you dare take her side! she isn’t even your wife yet—don’t slam my door!”

[nyoomfruits]

nyoomfruits masterlist

miscellaneous

my drabbles

fic recs

fave art

—

fics

la douceur de l’été (lando/oscar, 34k, in progress)

“Alright, okay,” Lando says, slumping down a little theatrically. “So you’re all just going to leave me down here to rot.”

“No one is leaving you to rot,” George says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, so, what, are you going to carry me up the mountain then?” Lando counters.

“I’m not going to-“ George starts, but gets cut off by Oscar.

“I can stay.”

--

you love me (but you don’t know it yet) (lando/oscar, 34,5k, completed)

When they get to the McLaren motorhome, his PR rep is already waiting for him in the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “We would’ve preferred if you’d told us about your boyfriend beforehand, Lando,” she says, as they make their way inside, glancing at Oscar following behind them. “We could’ve had some contingency plans in place.”

“Well, I would have told you,” Lando says, “I just didn’t know he existed until like 20 minutes ago.”

--

ghost of you (charles/max, 3,5k, completed)

“All right, are you now finally ready to explain why four time world driver champion Charles Leclerc is currently in my living room?” Max says, as Charles towels off his hair.

Charles pauses, lets the towel fall into his lap, stares at Max with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say four time?”

--

where i am going is right where i am (lando/oscar, 18k, completed)

Oscar, Lando likes to tell people, is a slow burn. Unremarkable at first. Almost a little boring. But then he wiggles your way into your life with his croissants and his soft little smiles and then one day you wake up and realize you would conquer worlds, slay dragons, eat spinach puffs, anything just to get him to look at you.

Max, on multiple occasions, has told him that’s a him problem and that not everyone experiences this around Oscar. Lando thinks Max is an idiot.

--

sink your teeth into me (lando/oscar, 5k, complete)

“Yeah,” Oscar says, shrugs. “Would be better if it wasn’t so fucking orange, though.”

“Oscar,” Lando tuts, heading for the door, back to his own driver’s room. “Where’s your team spirit.”

“Dead,” Oscar says, small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, gesturing at the orange coffin as if to say ‘get it?’.

--

love you with the lights on (lando/oscar, 28k, complete)

“I texted him,” Lando says. “He can’t have forgotten about me, I texted him, and he never texted back.” 

 Max shrugs. “Maybe he didn’t know what to say. After all, how do you tell your fuck buddy that you’ve accidentally gone out and acquired a baby?”

--

already home (lando/oscar, 32k, completed)

Lando takes a deep steadying breath. “I think I might be in love with Oscar.” He says, and hates how immediately when he says the words, he knows it’s true.

“Right,” Max says, nodding. “And?”

“What do you mean, ‘and?’” Lando says, a little outraged. “I can’t be in love with him! We’re married! This is like, a disaster waiting to happen!”

--

this feels like falling in love (charles/max, 3k, completed)

Five kisses throughout their lives, and the one that started it all.

--

thinking ‘bout your touch (oscar/lando, 2k, completed)

Lando’s brain gets so occupied by the thought it shouldn’t come as a surprise really, when a few rounds later Oscar says, “Dare.” Lando blurts out, “Let me suck your dick.”

There’s a long, awkward silence in which they just stare at each other, Oscar’s expression completely unreadable. “Uh,” he eventually says. “I think a dare is something I’m supposed to do.”

--

i’ve tasted blood (and i want more) (oscar/lando, 5,5k, completed)

Lando grabs a pillow and hits him with it, while Oscar laughs loudly. His fangs are on full display, white and sharp and pretty. “You know what I mean, you dickhead!”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Oscar says, eyes twinkling. “You want me to use you as a human Capri Sun. You know, like a weirdo.”

“God, you’re making this so much worse than it is,” Lando says, burying his face in his hands. It’s. Well, it’s embarrassing, but Oscar also hasn’t outright said no, so. You know what they say. In for a penny, in for a pound. “So, will you?” And then, just in case, he adds. “Suck my blood?”

--

purring in my lap (’cause he loves me) (oscar/lando, 5k, completed)

The cat thing ends up getting sort of explained in Bahrain, when Lando walks into his driver room and finds a small orange cat sitting on his couch.

Oscar’s cat, presumably.

And he kind of looks like Oscar, too. Slender, lean, and with a slightly grumpy, unimpressed expression on his face. It makes Lando laugh a little. Like owner, like pet, clearly. “Should I just call you Oscat, then,” Lando jokes, giving the cat a little head scratch.

The cat, Oscat, stops rubbing at Lando’s hand and just stares at him instead. Lando would almost say he was looking at him disapprovingly, but it is a cat, so he’s probably just imagining things.

—

glitch (charles/max, 26k+, completed)

Max hums. “Well, at least that means I won’t bump into Charles Leclerc again.”

“Bummer, really,” Daniel says, moving back to his own seat and drinking the little bit of coffee that was still in the cup. “Could’ve been the start of a great love story.”

Lando snorts. “Kids, it all started when I told your father, who had won two World Driver Championships at that point, that he sucked at driving.”

Max sticks his middle finger up at them, and pulls his noise canceling headphones back over his ears. Only two hours left to go, he thinks, wistfully, and goes back to work.

—

heart on your sleeve (charles/max, 5k, completed)

The thing about having a racing helmet that constantly displays your emotions for the whole world to see, is that you kind of get used to it after a while. These days Charles almost forgets it’s even a thing. Almost. But then he goes and falls in love.

—

you’ll be alright (charles/max, 19k+, completed)

Charles is not an idiot. He knows there’s a part of him that has been at least a little bit in love with Max for as long as they’ve known each other. But he’s always been able to shove it down. Burying it under rivalries and competitiveness until it was getting hard to differentiate between love and hate. And that had worked, for a really long time.

And then Max had to go and barge into his life and be really fucking cute with his baby.

—

silly me (to fall in love with you) (charles/max,18k+, completed)

“We’re not asking you to ‘woo’ him,” Christian says, looking pained at having to say the word ‘woo’, “We just need others to think you’ve wooed him.”

“I’m not following,” Max says, frowning.

“A PR relationship,” Poppy explains. “You pretend to date, making the public think you’re all happy and in love. Then you reap the benefits of being in a relationship without actually having to put in the effort or work.”

“Absolutely not,” Max says, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s depressing, I’m not doing that.”

—

you can hear it in the silence (charles/max, 7k+, completed)

“Thanks,” Max eventually says. “For letting me crash.”

“Yeah, yeah, we should definitely do this again sometimes,” Charles says sarcastically, seeming to finally have woken up enough to actually get out of bed.

“No fucking way, once is enough,” Max says, because it sounds a lot better than ‘this is the best I’ve slept in ages and I think it might’ve been because you were next to me’. “Besides. You snore.”

Charles gasps and looks at Max. “I do not.”

He doesn’t. But the complete outrage on Charles’s face is too good to tell him the truth. “Oh, yeah, like a goddamn sawmill. Thought you were going to wake up the whole house.” Max says, and then laughs when Charles lets out an indignant squawk and launches a pillow at his face.

Or, the five times Max and Charles accidentally fall asleep together, and the one time they do it on purpose.

[tennessoui]

obikin 28,11 :3

kit to kit: oh, 28, knocking on the wrong door, that can be a cute modern quirky au

kit to kit: yeah totally sure !!! you know what it could also be? 4.2k of dark canon AU that is dub con due to identity issues that definitely ends with anakin tied to a bed with future plans of stockholm syndroming him!!!

(so read at your own risk here this is definitely on the darker side of these prompt fills)

28. Knocking On The Wrong Right Wrong Door AU (4.2k)

The storm’s picked up to dangerous levels by the time Anakin and his padawan have picked their way out of the smoking rubble of their ship and made it into the nearby town.

“Think of it this way!” Anakin yells over the howl of the wind. “The rain’ll put out the rest of the fire!”

The look Ahsoka gives him is cold enough to freeze the rain that’s pelting down on them.

“I hope Master Windu grounds you for destroying another one of the Temple’s ships,” she snips at him, looking deeply unimpressed with his dramatic expression of hurt and betrayal.

“No one keeps count of that stuff, Snips,” Anakin grins. “And anyway, if I get grounded, you’d definitely be grounded with me. As my Padawan.”

“I’d be promoted, actually. They’d knight me on the spot the first time I come back with all my ships intact.”

Anakin rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to say something, but there’s a crack of thunder loud enough to shake him to his bones and a seriously bright flash of lightning that connects with a wind-swept tree next to them.

“Shelter!” Anakin yells over the renewed rain. “Come on, Ahsoka!”

The town is small, but there has to be some sort of hotel or lodge or--

“We don’t have any credits, Master!” Ahsoka cries, running after him.

She’s right. All their funds were in their ship, and neither of them had thought to grab them.

Kriff it all.

He changes course as soon as they get to the outskirts of the village.

He pounds on the door of the first cottage they come across. Either no one’s in or they’re particularly unfriendly, because the door stays firmly shut.

He hits the wood harder, setting up a constant rhythm. In a second, they’ll run to the next house, but there’s something about this place that feels right. Surely if only Anakin could knock loud enough to be heard over the storm--

The door cracks open and warm yellow light spills out over the doorstep.

“What?” The man asks stiffly. Anakin can only see a sliver of his face--one blue eye, dark red hair, and a beard.

“Good evening,” Anakin says, putting on his best Jedi voice. “I am seeking shelter from the storm for myself and my companion. We--”

“There’s an inn next to the school in town. Goodnight.”

Anakin wedges his foot in just before the man can close the door. “Please sir, we don’t have any credits--”

“Unfortunate. Goodnight.”

“Please, sir. My name is Anakin Skywalker. I am a General in the War. Shelter us tonight and the Jedi Order will see you repaid in full!”

The man pauses and looks him up and down slowly. The door opens a little wider. “Skywalker?” He asks, sounding suspicious.

Anakin nods eagerly. He doesn’t particularly like dropping his name like that, especially not on strange planets, but he needs to get his Padawan out of the storm. “Anakin, yes. We won’t hurt you or anything, sir. I swear.”

“Come on, Anakin,” Ahsoka says from behind him. “Let’s just go somewhere else. Someone else will let us in.”

The man tears his gaze away from Anakin, the first time he’s done so this entire time, and looks over Ahsoka as well. He opens the door even farther. “I’ll let you in,” he decides and Anakin has to fight the loud sigh of relief. “But I would like you to give me your weapons for the night, please.”

The man looks back to Anakin with a smile. It changes the lines of his face, softens them until the man looks pleasant instead of harsh. He has a nice smile. He has a really, really nice smile.

“No--” Ahsoka starts to say, sounding offended, but Anakin, still dazed by the flash of the man’s teeth, is already saying, “Yeah, of course. Here you go,” and giving his lightsaber to the man as soon as he opens the door all the way.

“Thank you, Anakin,” the man replies with another one of those smiles. Anakin can feel his face heat up at the way his name sounds rolling off this man’s tongue. “And thank you, young one,” he says when Ahsoka reluctantly thrusts her own lightsabers towards him.

“I’m not young,” Ahsoka takes great offense and the man looks apologetic.

“‘Soka,” Anakin reprimands immediately. “Don’t be rude.”

She stares at him in astonishment. He doesn’t tend to correct her that harshly, even when she’s been snippier to foreign dignitaries. But the man doesn’t deserve an attitude from either of them. He’s letting them stay in his house! He’s gorgeous! He’s going to house them out of his own generosity for the night! He’s very, very fit!

“The sitting room is just down the hall and to the right,” the man says, with a tilt of his head. Anakin obediently pulls Ahsoka along. “I’ll just go grab you some dry clothes to change into.”

Behind him he hears the man lock the door. That’s good. Safety is important and he obviously seems a little paranoid. It’s now Anakin’s full time mission to make sure the man knows he can trust him. Them.

Them.

“I have a really bad feeling about this, Anakin,” Ahsoka hisses as he practically shoves her down the hallway and into the sitting room, which looks nice and cozy. There’s a couch and everything, with a Holo projector balanced on an old looking low table.

“I’m feeling much better about this than about our odds in that storm,” Anakin argues back in an undertone. There are footsteps above them, so the man’s bedroom must be on the second floor. Anakin wonders what it looks like, and Ahsoka seems to catch on with where his thoughts are because she hits him on the shoulder.

“You’d know what I’m talking about if you were thinking with your brain instead of your lightsaber, Master.”

He opens his mouth to tell her how rude that is and also how very wrong, as Anakin can think with both, thank you very much, but the man appears in the room with them before he has a chance to.

“They won’t fit, obviously,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as if he’s embarrassed to have surprise guests in his house and not have their correct sizes in his closet. “But anything’s better than what you’re wearing now, I thought.”

“Yeah!” Anakin says eagerly. Ahsoka gives him an unimpressed look, crossing her arms. “I mean,” he coughs. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

The redhead gifts Anakin another one of his smiles. This one makes his blue eyes crinkle, which just might end up being his cause of death. Enshrine him in the Jedi Temple and at the plaque on his fee put “Here Lies Anakin Skywalker: Dead Because An Attractive Stranger Treated Him With Human Decency”.

His padawan rolls her eyes and takes her proffered stack of clothes. The man shows her where the fresher is and she stalks into it.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin apologizes immediately when the man turns to look at him with a lost look. “She’s just mad at me for crashing our ship. We were flying fine one minute and the next we have to make this emergency landing that turns out to be a bit--hard on the landing. And….you didn’t ask, did you? Kark. Sorry.”

The man smiles again with an amused shake of his head. “It’s alright, Anakin, I was wondering anyway.” He holds out the clothes for Anakin to change into and Anakin grabs them because it’s something to do that isn’t keel over from embarrassment.

Or, of course, kneel down to show this stranger how much he appreciates his kindness.

Anakin wills that thought--and it’s gorgeous mental image--away. He just hasn’t had sex in a while, not since he and Padme had gotten divorced. Usually, he needs that intimate connection with someone before he even thinks about sex, but maybe when he’s too horny it doesn’t matter anymore? Because he doesn’t even know this man’s name, but when their hands brush as he receives the stack of clothes, he feels as though the lightning from outside is shooting down his spine.

“Um.” He says, like the intelligent war general he is.

Has the man moved closer? Are his eyes dark or is it just the lighting? Is he interested in men? Is he interested in Anakin? Also, what is his kriffing name?

Anakin glances down at the clothes, preparing to ask at least one of those questions, before he realizes something. “There’s no shirt here?” He asks instead of anything much more pressing.

The man’s eyes widen and a blush spreads across his cheeks. “Oh, blast,” he mumbles, already turning to leave. “I’ll go grab you one, I’m sorry, I knew I forgot something.”

Anakin finds himself feeling hopelessly endeared by the man’s awkward flailing. He wonders if he’s managed to fluster the man. The idea feels amazing in his mind.

Grinning to himself, he starts shucking off his wet clothes. He can at least change into the pants while he waits for the man to come back, and if his timing is right---

He’s tying the loose pants tight around his waist when he hears footsteps in the hall.

Yes.

He turns around, shirtless, to glance at the man in the doorway, who’s stopped to stare at Anakin.

Anakin tries not to preen too obviously. Jedi training has done ridiculous things to the muscles of his back and chest, and he wants the man to look. To appreciate. To want.

And the man looks like he does. The man looks like he wants a lot.

There’s something dark and dangerous and wild and unrestrained in those eyes. Anakin wants closer.

He drops his shoulder and turns to face the man completely, letting him look his full. His gaze feels like a brand on every part of Anakin it touches. His hands tighten on the fabric of the shirt he’s holding when Anakin stretches his arms above his head as he yawns in a pathetically fake manner.

The man takes a couple of steps forward and Anakin stills in anticipation. He had thought he’d looked beautiful smiling, but this--this naked, dangerous want for Anakin that clouds his face--is so much more attractive. It would take one word from the man and he’d be on his knees. His back. His front. He’s not picky, he’s too busy feeling like his whole body is a live wire.

The door opens and Ahsoka’s deeply unimpressed tone effectively snaps the tension in the room. “What are you doing.”

“Getting dressed!” Anakin yelps, taking the shirt the man extends to him and putting it on immediately.

The man sends Ahsoka an unreadable but dark look before blinking a few times and smiling at her. Whatever had been on his face is gone and Anakin can’t help but think that he must have imagined it.

“Please, sit. Are you hungry?” He asks, rubbing his hands together. “Fixing you two a meal would be the least I can do for the galaxy’s heroes.”

Anakin flushes and preens as he follows the direction, the man’s praise wrapping like a warm blanket around his mind.

Ahsoka is less taken in, even as she settles in on the couch next to Anakin. “You could tell us your name,” she says, arms crossed. The look is ruined by the way the gray tunic the man has given to her is big enough to fall off one of her shoulders.

The man freezes for a second, barely noticeable if Anakin was not watching him as intently as he is. Then the stranger’s shoulders droop for a second and he looks so sad that actually Anakin doesn’t care if he never learns the man’s name. He’ll call him Dear for the rest of his life.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man eventually murmurs, sitting delicately on the arm of the comfortable looking chair and giving them a half-sort of smile. “At your service.”

Anakin’s eyes narrow at the name that feels like it should be familiar. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan. It’s pretty. He likes it.

Ahsoka jumps to her feet. “Obi-Wan Kenobi!” she says and turns to Anakin as if that’s supposed to mean something to him. He blinks up at her in confusion. “You’re the Jedi that Fell after Qui-Gon Jinn died!”

Anakin rises immediately, brain trying to process this new information. Yes. Yeah. Obi-Wan Kenobi. They’d met. They’d met on Tatooine. Kenobi had been Qui-Gon’s padawan. He’d killed Maul after Maul killed Qui-Gon. And then...he’d left the Order. Anakin had been assigned another Master. He’d forgotten all about Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“I didn’t Fall,” Obi-Wan Kenobi corrects from his place on the chair. “Please, sit down.”

“You left the Order with Dooku!” Ahsoka accuses. “And you’re trying to tell me you didn’t Fall?”

Anakin’s hand goes to his belt automatically, but he doesn’t have his lightsaber. He’d given it to Obi-Wan.

“Look at my eyes, young one,” Obi-Wan demands in a cold tone. “Are they Sith-gold?”

Anakin hesitates. Obi-Wan has a point. His eyes are blue. And surely they’d know if there was another Sith afoot in the galaxy. Sith don’t like keeping quiet about themselves, from everything Anakin’s learned about them.

“You’re old enough to know how to hide that,” Ahsoka challenges immediately, which makes Obi-Wan wince.

“You don’t pull your punches, do you?” He asks with a forced laugh. Then he looks at Anakin, and his face turns pleading. “Anakin,” he says gently, slowly, Ah-na-kin, “I’m not lying. Please believe me. I--I didn’t leave the Order to join the Sith. I left because they wouldn’t allow me to train you, Anakin.”

Anakin feels like the shipwreck from an hour ago caused less whiplash than these few sentences. “Me?”

“Qui-Gon begged me to train you as he lay dying in my arms,” Obi-Wan’s jaw clenches and his face looks sad again. He closes his eyes as if to ward off the memory and when he opens them again they look wet. “When they wouldn’t allow me to, I realized there was nothing in the Order left for me. Dooku, my master’s master, came to me and asked me to leave with him. I had no idea that he would Fall. As soon as I realized what he had become, I ran. That’s why I’m here, Anakin. Please believe me. I have no involvement in the war, on either side.”

Force help him, but he does. He does believe him. He looks so honest, so heartbroken. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi? He can’t really say he remembers enough about what Kenobi had looked like all those years ago to know if the man in front of him could be an older version of the Padawan he’d met. He doesn’t actually remember anything about Kenobi, except--

“Hey, wait a second, you called me a pathetic lifeform!” Anakin says indignantly, a nine-year-old’s rage welling up in him at the memory.

Obi-Wan blinks at him and then bursts into laughter. It sounds like rocks, sliding into the ocean. Sith don’t laugh like that. He can’t imagine Ventress laughing like that. Or laughing at all, aside from a sinister chuckle.

Obi-Wan wipes the wetness from his eyes and grins at Anakin. “I’d forgotten about that,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Anakin pouts. “I was standing right there.”

“Making moon-eyes at Queen Amidala, yes,” Obi-Wan raises a sardonic eyebrow. “I thought you were sufficiently distracted. She was quite prettier.”

Anakin’s first instinct is to say, I’m prettier, but that’s not actually appropriate, and maybe Obi-Wan wouldn’t agree with him anyway.

“Do you believe me, Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan asks, turning to her while Anakin is working on controlling his flushed face.

Anakin’s padawan is still standing, but looks unsure. “I...I don’t know.”

“Then we can talk more about it over a cup of tea,” Obi-Wan decides, standing up. “I’ll be back in a second.”

As he walks past the couch to get through a door that must lead to his kitchen, he brushes his hand along Anakin’s shoulder and neck.

Anakin would like to say he handles this touch with grace and aplomb as befitting a Jedi Knight, but the look Ahsoka gives him makes him feel much more like a pathetic lifeform than a Jedi Knight.

“We can trust him,” Anakin mutters to her. “I remember him.”

“It’s been years, Anakin,” Ahsoka mutters back. “Even if you remember everything he’s ever said to you, he could be a completely different person. He probably is.”

“It’s just a night, Snips,” he reasons. “And there’s no alternatives. And I think we can trust him.”

She hesitates for a second and then exhales. “Fine,” she agrees. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Anakin grins in response.

----

Halfway through tea, Ahsoka starts nodding off.

“Crash landing takes a lot out of anyone,” Obi-Wan says sympathetically with a wink at Anakin, who puffs up in indignation. Before he can say anything in defense of his very necessary landing, Obi-Wan has taken Ahsoka’s tea and put it gently on the table. “Come on, girl, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping. I have a spare room.”

Ahsoka goes easily enough, in a way that makes Anakin feel bad for how short-tempered he’s been with her in the past few hours. He’s been stressed, she’s been stressed, but she’s just a youngling still. She’s probably been exhausted for so long now.

“Could you put our cups in the sink, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks as he leads the Togruta out of the sitting area.

Anakin complies immediately, carrying each mug like they’re something special and precious before dumping out the contents into the sink and filling each with water.

He thinks about washing them and putting them into cupboards, but he doesn’t want Obi-Wan to think that’s he’s rifling through his cupboards or anything, so he goes back to the living room to wait for him.

Obi-Wan returns just a few seconds later, smiling slightly to himself.

“What?” Anakin asks immediately. If there’s a joke that Obi-Wan finds funny, Anakin wants to hear it too.

“Just something Ahsoka said,” he replies, looking fondly down at Anakin.

Anakin’s feeling too persistent to be sidetracked by that though, so he raises both his eyebrows.

“That she’d skewer me on her lightsabers if I besmirched her master’s honor, no matter how much he asks for it,” Obi-Wan recalls with a perfectly straight face.

Anakin buries his blushing face in his hands instantly. “Force,” he mumbles.

Obi-Wan laughs again. It’s just as pretty as last time and it makes Anakin peek through his fingers.

“It’s alright, Anakin,” Obi-Wan soothes. “I told her I thought I would be quite good at resisting any sort of begging from you.”

Anakin’s first thought is, of course, Want to bet?, but that’s hardly a thing to say to a near stranger. Even if he is very handsome and he has looked at you like you’re a feast and he’s a starving man just a few hours ago.

No, Anakin. Bad Anakin.

“So that’s me for the couch then, yeah?” He says in a totally normal and not at all high-pitched voice, standing so he can go fetch a blanket.

The look in Obi-Wan’s eyes freezes him where he is. They’re filled with that same dark want from before paired with a promise. “If you’d like,” Obi-Wan murmurs and then just to make sure there’s no confusion, he holds out his hand. “Or….”

Anakin doesn’t even have to think about it before he’s interlacing their fingers.

-----

When Anakin comes to, there’s light streaming in through the windows in Obi-Wan’s bedroom. He grumbles and tries to roll over.

He can’t.

Both of his arms have been securely tied over his head, and there’s a gag in his mouth.

Really, his first instinct should be panic and not a sort of sleepy arousal at what Obi-Wan plans to do with him like this.

But no. The panic doesn’t set in until he sees Obi-Wan by the window, deathstick held between his lips as he listens to a holocall.

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan murmurs, exhaling a line of smoke out the window before turning to look at Anakin. He nods his head in greeting, as if this is a normal scenario. “Yes, he’s just woken up.”

When he turns his head back to the window, the yellow of his eyes catch on the sunlight and gleam bright gold.

“The padawan has been dealt with,” Obi-Wan continues, which makes Anakin lose any sense of calm he still felt. He’s cut off from the Force so he can’t feel his bond with Ahsoka. Fear and fury wash through him equally at the thought of Obi-Wan, this Sith lord traitor and dirty liar, dealing with Ahsoka.

Oh Force, she’d been right. She’d been so right. Had she paid the cost for Anakin’s blindness?

“Yes, Master. Tell Sidious he can expect his Chosen One kneeling before him in chains as soon as he deposits the credits into my account. I’ve sent multiple pictures already as proof that Anakin Skywalker is alive and bound.”

Anakin tries to yell through the gag, but it’s ineffective and only causes Obi-Wan to look at him with an amused eyebrow raise. “And awake,” the Sith traitor purrs into the comm. “Must go now. Remember, Dooku. My credits.”

With that, he ends the comm and stubs out his deathstick with a flourish, walking around to stand at the foot of the bed with all the grace of a predator who knows its prey is well and truly cornered.

“Good morning, darling,” Obi-Wan croons. “Sorry you had to hear that.”

Anakin glowers at him. He’s never hated anyone more than he hates Obi-Wan Kenobi at this moment.

“Your padawan is safe,” Obi-Wan starts, sitting on the bed by Anakin’s midsection and tracing a hand down his bare chest. Anakin twitches away from him. “No, really,” the Sith promises in a soothing voice. “I drugged her last night of course, but you have to admit she looked like she needed a full night’s sleep.”

The tea. Force, the tea. If Anakin had thought to check the tea, or to follow Obi-Wan into the kitchen and watch him make it, they wouldn’t be here in this position. He wouldn’t be here in this specific position. Force.

“And this morning while you slept, I carried her out to my ship--or Dooku’s ship, I suppose--and put her on route to the Jedi Temple. She’ll arrive in a day or so, probably. I even gave her food and drink to survive comfortably until then. There’s no need to worry.”

Anakin tries to convey the level of disbelief he has for that statement in a single glare. Obi-Wan shrugs languidly, hand still touching his skin in a way he’d enjoyed last night. His body hasn’t gotten the notice that it shouldn’t enjoy Obi-Wan’s touch anymore, which is making this whole bound and gagged thing really awkward.

“Well, for her, I suppose.” Obi-Wan chuckles and pulls his hand away so he can light another deathstick. He takes a drag and then exhales. “I’ll even let you comm her. It’s actually quite important that you do. You see, I told her that I would kill you if she tried to come back here without first going to the Temple. She seemed to believe me.”

He rolls his eyes fondly, as if they’re sharing a joke at Ahsoka’s expense.

“Like I’d kill you,” Obi-Wan huffs a laugh, shaking his head and bringing the deathstick back to his mouth. “I told her I’d let you comm her the second she lands. Of course, she will be surrounded by Jedi masters, who will be very interested in hearing my proposed trade deal, even if she isn’t. I will give them the name of Darth Sidious, my master’s master. I will give them proof enough to end the war and have him arrested and tried for his crimes. And they will give me you.”

Anakin feels his eyes widen at the words. It’s so unexpected that even if he weren’t gagged, he wouldn’t be able to think of a single thing to say.

“It’s perfect, really,” Obi-Wan murmurs, a hand coming up to stroke through Anakin’s hair. “Sidious thinks he is about to get his hands on you, as that has been the plan for weeks now. He has paid good money for you, you know. I almost feel bad for deciding to break our agreement. But you just fell apart so beautifully under my hands last night, darling. How can I give you up?”

Anakin shivers as the memory of last night washes over his mind. He’s never felt more ashamed and yet still guiltily pleased with his performance. The praise he's getting. Force it feels good to be praised.

“So Sidious thinks he will get you, the Jedi will get Sidious, Ahsoka will probably get knighted, and you will be where you belong,” Obi-Wan blows out smoke and then leans down to grin into Anakin’s face. Anakin has to tell himself not to look away. Those yellow eyes are filled with a recognizable lust. It had been so attractive last night. It’s still attractive now, if he’s being completely honest. Force, what is wrong with him?

Obi-Wan’s hand leaves his hair to press delicately on a new bruise on his throat. “You will be with me.”

[stackthedeck]

53+101 for any matt ship

I am kissing you tenderly on the forehead thank you so much for the prompt! Okay we're aiming for 1k but 2k at max (Yes under 2k!)

53. "you smell really nice"

101. "Define normal"

so here's the Matt flirting with Foggy by describing his smell ficlet

“So, we never really talked about your powers,” Foggy says. 

They’re at Matt’s apartment, working late on a case. Papers in braille and the sighted alphabet are spread across the table, but Foggy didn’t turn on a light when he walked in. Maybe the sun was enough when they started, but it’s late now and surely Foggy can only see by the soft glow of the billboard outside Matt’s window.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Like, can you see normally with them?”

They’ve had a beer each and with Foggy’s pension for alcohol, he’s definitely not drunk enough to ask that question. But, Matt’s not drunk enough to take it personally. 

“Define normal.”

Matt removes his glasses, turning his head in Foggy’s general direction. He blinks slowly. He remembers his eyes being hazel and he knows the doctors described them as cloudy and scarred. He wonders if that changed their color. Most people flinch at his eyes, but not Foggy.

“Like can you tell what color my hair is?”

“Nope.”

“How tall am I?”

“You’re a little shorter than me?”

“Anything about how I look?”

Matt shrugs and reaches for another beer. “I don’t know, you’re a bigger guy with longish hair. Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know, you always go home with attractive people, I figured you could make out something.”

Matt snorts then passes another beer to Foggy. He’s not sure why he started this conversation, but Matt is more than happy to have it. This will be funny.

“How would I know?” Matt pushes their case papers aside, leaning back into the couch.

“I don’t know, it’s spooky, like actually really spooky!” Foggy takes a long sip of his beer, no doubt glaring at Matt. Or maybe he’s brooding. Either way, the muscles in his face are tense and warm.

“What’s your secret man?”

“No secret.” Matt hums with a smirk.

“Bullshit.” Yeah, Foggy is definitely glaring. Matt ignores him.

“You really want to know?”

“Obviously.”

Matt leans closer to Foggy and he can hear his heartbeat spike, nonetheless Foggy leans closer too.

“I don’t care if they’re attractive or not,” Matt whispers.

“Yes, you do!” Foggy shouts right into his face. “You are only pulling major hotties, man.”

“I have an idea of who’s good looking. Heart rates spike around them, I know vaguely what shape and size are supposed to be attractive, but that’s not important.”

“So what is?”

“Intelligent conversation, compassionate, ni—”

“Oh wow, you’re a real saint Matthew.”  Foggy gestures with his beer bottle and his face does something, probably rolling his eyes. “I just rolled my eyes by the way.”

“Yeah, I could tell from your sanctimonious tone.” Matt rolls his eyes back at Foggy, glad that he took his glasses off earlier.

“But seriously, if you were just into personality, you’d keep a relationship going for more than a month, a week, a night—”

“Okay, I get it,” Matt smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on, I think it’d kill me if you weren’t actually shallow.” Foggy leans back into the couch, taking another sip of his beer.

“You really want to know?” Matt lowers his voice into a hush like they’re sharing a secret and Foggy’s breath catches. He leans forward, snaking his arm over the couch so that his fingers almost graze Foggy’s shoulder.

Foggy nods but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t catch himself and verbalizes his gestures. It’s okay, Matt can pick up on the movements of the air to tell. He doesn’t need to though, he can hear Foggy swallow dryly, hear his heart skip.

“I don’t care if someone is easy on the eyes, but I’d prefer if they were easy on the other senses.” Matt takes another sip of his beer, letting some catch on his lip.

“Oh?” More a strangled sound than a question.

“Soft skin.” Matt reaches out to brush his hand over Foggy’s knuckles. The gesture is small, could be accidental. Foggy’s hands are soft, he treats himself to nice soaps and lotions and Matt is grateful for it. Desk work has kept his hands soft, but there’s the idea of strength behind them too, like maybe he could have been a butcher. Foggy’s hands would have force behind them if he was a butcher, but they’d be rough like sandpaper instead of silk.

“Nice hair.” Matt’s hand ghosts over Foggy’s shoulder, just catching the edges of his hair. That gesture couldn’t be mistaken for accidental. Maybe he could have passed it off as fumbling blindly years ago before Foggy knew. He likes it better this way, likes that Foggy can read into his movements. “Not pretty, but soft. Hair that isn’t scratchy, but smooth. No bleach, no 2-in-1. The kind of hair you can grab.”

“Oh,” Foggy whispers to himself and it’s almost lost in the race of his pulse.

“Pretty voice,” Matt hums. His hand is already on Foggy’s shoulder, it’d be so easy to drag a finger across his throat. But Foggy’s heart is already beating out of his chest, he doesn’t want to scare him. Not yet. “Someone that I really like listening to, someone that could—well, you get the idea.”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I think I do,” Foggy almost gasps, and yeah Matt’s got the idea too. The air smells of the salt of sweat and the spice of adrenaline. 

“Someone that smells nice.” Matt bites his lip as he takes a deep inhale, a part of him hoping Foggy catches it and another hoping it’s a secret just for him to cherish.

“I’m afraid to ask,” Foggy says and he almost pulls off nonchalant, almost maintaining the illusion that this is just friendly.

“Ask anyway.” Matt leans forward and suddenly his hand is hooked around the back of Foggy’s neck and he’s pulling him close and he is filling his lungs.

“Do I smell…” Foggy swallows and Matt can taste his breath on his lips. Their faces must be so close, but somehow Matt can tell that Foggy is looking anywhere but at him. “...like alright?”

“Oh Foggy,” Matt smiles, “you’re better than alright, you smell…well you smell really nice.”

Heat rising in his face, pulse racing, adrenaline spiking. Matt likes to think that his senses give him the ability to sort the wide range of human emotion into easy facts and fiction, but if he thinks he’s a human lie detector, he’s only lying to himself. All that input could be what he wants or it could be fear, anger, shame. But it’s something.

“Nice how?”

“You wear an expensive cologne, just a little bit to make it last. I’m not sure if anyone else can smell it, but I can. Hints of jasmine and lemon and it doesn’t clash with your fancy shampoo.”

“Hygiene is important,” Foggy mutters like he’s defending himself, like Matt’s complaining.

“And I appreciate that.” Matt takes another inhale and there’s no doubt that Foggy notices.

“Right now, you smell like cheap beer and even cheaper coffee—”

“Wow!” Foggy huffs.

Matt squeezes the back of his neck, just a barely-there touch. “Can I finish?”

Foggy nods, their heads so close together that Matt doesn’t need him to say it, doesn’t need radar sense to feel it.

“Underneath it all is always something sweet, something that’s just you. You smell amazing, Fogs, you smell familiar, like home.”

“So…” Foggy licks his lip and Matt can almost taste him in the air “...touch, sound, smell, any other sense that’s important?”

Matt could say that there’s more than just five senses. That he likes people that run warm, people with a deep thundering heartbeat, people that fill a room in a way that Matt can’t help but gravitate towards.

“Well, taste usually only comes after I’ve brought them home.”

“You’ve brought me home.” Matt can feel the heat in Foggy’s cheeks, but his voice is finally unwavering. Finally flirting back.

Matt kisses him and his hair falls into Matt’s face, his lips are just as soft and sure as his hands, and he tastes as good as he smells.

[inkandpen22]

Dazed and Confused (S1: 6/?)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

Warnings: mild language, violence, FLUFF

Word Count: 2k

Part Summary: At the junkyard, everyone sets up shop for the arrival of the Demogorgons. When the monsters do arrive, things don’t go exactly as planned... 

Masterlist

Y/N

After ages and ages of walking, the three of us arrive at what appears to be a dump. A bunch of old cars is supposed to keep us safe from an alien? 

“Oh yeah, this will do just fine." Steve nods, moving to walk ahead. 

“Oo, a rundown school bus, the perfect fortress against mega aliens with a million teeth!" I laugh nervously. "Might as well just pin myself up like a scarecrow with a sign that says eat me!” 

“I said medium-well!” A voice shouts from behind us. 

The three of us whip around and my eyes land on Lucas and some random ginger chick.  

“Who the F is that?” I scoff, looking to Dustin for some sort of explanation. 

All he does is stare at the pair longingly. That's when it all starts to piece itself together. 

"Oh great," I grumble. 

"What?" Steve questions, utterly oblivious. 

I hold up my hand at him, marching toward the bus. He asks again, following me, and I just ignore him. I'm not playing into this tween love triangle. 

____________________________________

Steve

As Y/N, Random Girl, and I set up shop, Dickhead #1 and #2 are nowhere to be seen. I scan the junk yard and that's when I spot the two shitheads hunched behind a beat up old car. 

I slam my hand against the rusty hood, breaking up their little Bro Fest. “Hey! Dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out are Y/N and this random girl? We lose light in 40 minutes. Let's go!" I command. When all they do is stare at me, I repeat myself louder. "Let's go, I said!”

“All right, asshole! God!” Dustin shouts, passing by me. 

“Okay! Stupid," Lucas adds in a grumble. 

“Dickheads," Y/N repeats to me with a disapproving glare. "Seriously?” 

“They’re being little shits!” I defend. 

She rolls her eyes, walking away from me. “My God." 

“What?” I whine, following after her. 

———————————

Later that night... 

Y/N

As the five of us wait for a bang, cry, or any sort of sign of the Demogorgon, we all sit clumped in the abandoned bus. The ginger chick who I've learned is named Max, kicks around a pebble. Lucas acts as our eyes from the roof, Dustin pretends not to care that Max is here and Steve plays with his lighter beside me. 

Click. Click. Click. It goes. 

“Hey Steve?” I break the silence. 

He glances over at me, continuing his action. “Yeah?” 

“If you accidentally start a fire and we all die, I’m haunting the fuck out of your ass. An eternity of torment by yours truly," I threaten with a steady tone. 

“Right! My bad." He swiftly stuffs the object into his back pocket. 

"So you really fought one of these things before?" Max asks Dustin. 

"And you're, like, totally, 100% sure it wasn't a bear?"

"Shit. Don't be an idiot!" Dustin suddenly bursts out. "Okay? It wasn't a bear. Why are you even here if you don't believe us? Just go home."

Geez! I lean forward to look past Steve at the boy. He shrugs, indifferent and I snap my fingers at him warningly. 

"Geesh! Someone's cranky..." Max rises from her spot. "Past your bedtime?" She fires back before climbing up the ladder to join Lucas. 

"The fuck Dustin!" I hiss at the boy. 

"That's good!" Steve nods in approval, patting him on the shoulder. "Just show her you don't care."

"I don't," Dustin grumbles. 

Steve winks at him with a smirk. 

The boy frowns. "Why are you winking, Steve? Stop." 

"You two are idiots," I remark. "While you genius-" I direct at Steve, "-told him to act like he doesn't care, he just urged her toward Lucas." I then turn my focus to Dustin, "and you Numb Nut fell for it. Now, you pissed her off, way to go! Don't be such a douche-canoe!" 

Dustin's eyes flicker behind me toward the opening in the roof as the sounds of Max and Lucas laughing linger. See, I'm not wrong! Boys are so stupid. 

“Did you just indirectly call me a douche-canoe?” Steve peers at me with a raised brow. 

“Yes, I did.” I don’t regret my action. “Don’t teach him to treat girls like shit!” I scold. 

He holds his hands up defensively. “I wasn’t-” 

Suddenly, a massive and chilling growl echoes from the woods. All of us rush to peer out the windows behind us. The three of us clump together to see out of the small bit of exposed glass that isn't covered with scrap metal. 

"You see him?" Dustin panics. 

Steve shakes his head. "No."

"Jesus, we're fucked." I push off the wall and begin to pace. “We’re fucked!” 

"Lucas, what's going on?" Dustin hollers. 

"Hold on!" Lucas requests. 

 I can't do this again! I can't! No, no, no! 

"I've got eyes! Ten o'clock!" He stutters. "Ten o'clock!"

Steve spots it too. "There!" 

Immediately, I rush back over to the pair and Steve's hand finds mine, giving it a comforting squeeze. I rest my forehead against his back, unable to find the bravery to look outside. 

This isn’t happening... this isn’t real... I’m safe in my room... 

"What's he doing?" Dustin questions. 

"I don't know..." Steve drags out, studying the creature. "He's not taking the bait. Why is he not taking the bait?"

"Maybe he's not hungry?" Dustin concludes. 

"Maybe he's sick of cow," I joke, trying to cope with the stressful situation. 

Steve steps back from the window with a blank expression. His eyes fall to mine and he caresses my cheek. Then, his features change to that of guilt. My heart sinks. He releases my hand and reaches into my pocket. 

“Steve?" I start to worry as he walks back to the door. "Steve, what are you doing?”

“Steve?” Dustin repeats cautiously. 

He tosses his lighter to Dustin. "Just get ready."

Predicting his plan, I grab his hand pleadingly, bringing it to my chest. “Steve, no! Don’t go out there!” 

Torn, he leans down and plants a quick kiss on my forehead. “It’ll be okay, promise.” He mumbles, resting his forehead against mine for a second. Slowly, he starts to back away, slipping from my hands. 

"No, don't do this..." I plea quietly. "Don't be the hero! Don’t leave me!" 

He offers me a weak smile, trying to reassure me everything will be okay. Ignoring my begging, pops open the bus door and hops out, bat ready. Dustin hurries to shut the door behind him. I rush back to the window and frantically search for him. 

Max rushes down the ladder to join us and peers out the window next to me. 

"What's he doing?" She asks. 

"Expanding the menu," Dustin phrases it, earning a swat from me. 

"Ouch!" He huffs, rubbing his arm. 

Max gasps. "He's insane!" 

"He's awesome!" Dustin watches in awe. 

“Any of you try to do that and I’m kicking your ass!” I warn. 

"Steve, watch out!" Lucas suddenly shouts. 

"A little busy here!" Steve hollers. 

"Three o'clock!" Lucas warns in a panic. "Three o'clock!" 

Dustin, Max, and I shift our attention to the proper direction. Instantly, I feel the urge to throw up. Three more Demogorgans crawl out from within the fog. Steve is surrounded. 

They all release a booming growl in unison and I snap. 

“Steve! No!” I shout, pushing off the wall and sprinting toward the door. 

"Y/N! Wait!" Dustin yells, rushing after me. 

Without a second thought, I yank back the door handle and leap off the bus. "Steve!" I run full force toward the boy, never once checking my surroundings. All I can do is focus on reaching Steve. 

"Steve! Abort! Abort!" Dustin hollers from the steps of the bus. 

Despite the warnings, Steve stands his ground, ready to fight. 

"Y/N, run!" Max screams. 

I reach Steve, grabbing his wrist. He jumps, having not seen me coming. His eyes meet mine, utterly bewildered. 

"Steve, hurry!" I urge. 

Processing my words, he slips his hand into mine and we start sprinting toward the bus. As we're being chased by the Demogorgons, I realize I never grabbed a weapon. I had no plan or weapon to save me. All I could think to do was save Steve. 

"Guys, run!" Dustin waves us toward the bus. 

Steve pushes me onto the bus first. I stumble in, landing on the floor. Steve falls on top of me, our faces mere inches from each other. Our eyes meet and for a split second, I forget where we are and what's happening. 

Dustin slams the door shut behind us and the Demogorgon slams into it. 

Steve snaps out of the daze and flips onto his side next to me. "Shit!" 

"Are they rabid or something?" Max screams. 

"They can't get in! They can't!" Dustin repeats. I assume to reassure himself that he's safe. 

The monsters pound against the bus, rocking it around like a rollercoaster. Their booming growls and our screaming fills the air. 

"Shit!" Dustin shouts, struggling with his headset. "Is anyone there?" He screams into the device. "Mike? Will? God! Anyone! We're at the old junkyard, and we are going to die!" 

Steve holds his arm out across me, blocking me from the door as the monsters try to break in. He presses his sneakers against the metal panel trying to keep them out. I hide my face in his neck, gripping his jacket in my fists. 

The pounding on the door ceases and is replaced by pounding footsteps on the roof. Steve rushes to his feet and helps me up. We follow the dents in the ceiling down the bus to where the kids are hiding at the back of the bus. 

"Out of the way!" Steve rushes toward them with his bat. 

“Holy shit!” Max screams, peering up at the opening in the roof. 

"Out of the way!" Steve shoves them all to the side. 

I follow suit and put myself between the kids and the monster. 

Steve directs his focus up at the monster. "You want some? Come get this!"

A distant growl causes the monster to redirect its attention to the woods. The junkyard grows quiet. Then, there's a loud screech. Abruptly, the monster leaps off the bus with a jolt and we all scream. After a couple of seconds, everyone but me hurries out the door to check out the scene. Steve leads the way, holding his nail bat up high. 

I sit down on the backbench for a second, processing what just happened. 

"What happened?" Lucas questions sternly. 

Max scans the area frantically. "I don't know." 

"Steve scared 'em off?" Dustin suggests. 

"No," he immediately rejects. "No way. They're going somewhere." 

After a deep breath, I collect myself and follow, not eager to leave, but not wanting to be alone either. Right as I hop off the bus to join everyone, Steve snaps at me. 

"What the fuck were you thinking coming after me? You could've gotten hurt!" 

I scoff at his audacity. “Me? You fucking idiot!" I march up to him and shove him the chest. "You selfish asshole! You could’ve died!” 

"You came after me, no plan, no weapon!" He scolds. 

"You didn't have a plan either! You come out here, with no plan, with no clue what you’re facing!”

"I know..." He pants, staring at me like an idiot as I shout at him. 

“You scared the shit out of me!” I add and my voice shakes, betraying me. 

He nods slowly. “I know...” 

Abruptly, he slips his hand across the back of my neck and slams his lips to mine. 

For a second, I'm dumbfounded. No warning. No lead-up. A sudden and unexpected kiss. After the moment of shock, I process what's happening and return the action, bringing my arms to sling over his shoulders, deepening the kiss. 

Lucas pretends to gag. “Ew!” 

“Gross!” Max expresses. 

“What the fuck is up with everyone lately!” Dustin huffs. 

All three turn away, dispersing about the junkyard as they grumble their disgust. 

Steve and I break apart only to catch our breath. He rests his forehead against mine as he caresses my cheek. 

“What did you do that for?” I whisper as I flicker my eyes up away from his lips to meet his gaze. 

“I should’ve done it a long time ago.” 

I nod and he leans in, bringing his lips to mine again. This time, it's not rushed or eager. It's slow, planned, and I was ready for it. Steve is right, this is a long time coming. I've imagined this moment since last year. I just didn't think it would happen in a junkyard with a bunch of tweens and Demogorgons around. 

___________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @treblebeth @supersouthy​ 

[heyheshi]

Episode

2k words

written and uploaded: August 13, 2020

🦋 - fluff

🌙 - angst...?

💎 - mention of smut...?

Please like and reblog! Also please don't post my writings anywhere!

This is supposed to be a blurb but oh well! And please please REBLOG! I want to get my works out there and likes isn't doing anything. And don't be a ghost reader that doesn't even like my post. By next month, I'll be blocking ghost and silent readers (doesn't reblog). Hope you understand!

Masterlist

_________

"Baby pay attention to meee!", Harry plopped down beside you on your shared bed, "what're you doing anyway?", putting his head on your shoulder as he squints his eyes.

You turned your head a bit and pecked his nose, "told ya I was gonna play Episode! Just bought these gems and tickets.", looking back to your phone, you made your choice - Kiss Max.

"That awfully looks like you.", H murmured, still not taking his head off your shoulders.

You've been playing this game since the lockdown started. Weird? Probably. For an adult like you who's dating the Harry Styles, yes. In your defense, it's a fun game. It does get boring on some days and the domestic stuff gets tiring so you play this game to relax a bit.

And no, Harry is not boring, he just happened to have a life and a hobby - unlike you and when he's working out or writing, you're stuck with whatever it is that can occupy you and so you found this game!

"I know! It's so cool cause I really feel like I'm in this game!", you continued to read the lines on your phone screen not paying attention to your boyfriend, "look!"

"Stop making out with that avatar!", Harry playfully said as he lays down to bed.

"I made a premium choice so...", you shrugs, "and isn't he just cute??!", you felt Harry put his hands on your waist and tried to drag you down beside him but you didn't budge.

H answered you in a monotone voice, "Yea sure.", putting both of his hand at the back of his head then closing his eyes.

"C'mon! Don't be rude! I designed him!"

Opening his left eye, "well sorry to break it to you but you can't design a real life boyfriend."

"Thank god I play this game then, ain't it?", you jokingly responded but it seems like your boyfriend is a grumpy baby today, only answering you with 'whatever'.

"Stop that!", hitting your boyfriend's tummy playfully, "I can style you anyways Mister Harry Styles, so I'm good.", you continued, emphasizing his surname.

"I think I'm gonna go grab some snack downstairs.", your boyfriend quickly get out of your bed and walked out of your room leaving you dumbfounded.

'Whatever', your mind subconsciously screamed so you just went back to your game, getting comfortable sitting with your back against the headboard. 

This is not the first time it happened, there are some days when Harry is a complete 180, but hey, everyone has a bad day and he's not an exemption.

Shaking your head as if to clear your head, you went back to your game. You realized that you just started a new chapter yet your boyfriend hasn't made his appearance back.

Making a mental note of checking on him after this chapter, you continued your game until he walked in your room again holding a bag of chips and a bottle of water.

Patting the space beside you, "Whatcha got in there, baby?", already knowing the answer, you asked anyway.

He only raised the food on his hands and made his way beside you. He did not say a word, only stared at the blank wall in front of him as he started eating his chips.

"Can you feed me some?", you tried to coo your boyfriend but he only passed you the bag, still not paying attention to you.

Feeling defeated and annoyed, you rolled your eyes and ignored your boyfriend as you finished the chapter you are playing.

"Kissy!", you made a grabby hands at Harry as you jutted your bottom lips only for you to get ignored, once again. "What's up with you?", you turned off your game and looked at him with pointed eyes.

"Oh so now you paying attention to me. Nice."

"Wha- are you, you know, horny...? Is that it...?", you tried to tickle him but still no nothing.

"Can you let me eat my chips at peace? Why won't you go back to that game of yours."

"What? No. I'm asking you a question Harry.", your patience is wearing off and your boyfriend is clearly the reason. Everything is so peachy.

Finally looking at you, he answered sarcastically, "I was asking for your affection earlier but you didn't pay attention."

"What the hell H!", rubbing your face until something clicked, "oh no! Oh no!", you started laughing while Harry looked at you like you're a lunatic of some sort.

"What now?"

"Oh no! No no no no no!", the pissed off face of your boyfriend did not help but to make you laugh harder to the point where your stomach starts hurting.

"Y/N stop that!", H whined, stuffing his face with chips.

"Wait!", trying to calm down, "I think I know what's up with you...", getting a pillow and hugging it and sitting up straighter, you continued, "are you... jealous?"

Harry mimicked you, sitting up straight, "I am not jealous.", eating more of the chips as he looks at you dead in the eyes.

"Oh baby, you are so jealous!", you continued to tease your boyfriend, poking his body multiple times.

"I'm not."

"Yes you are! I know you!"

H put his chips on his bedside table and cleaned his hand with a rubbing alcohol then facing you again, "no. I'm not even laughing!", looking at your eyes again, trying to make a point.

"If it was other people, maybe you would've fooled them, but not me! I know that look! And that eyes! Just admit it! You're jealous Harry!", the look on your boyfriends face made you stop laughing.

"Fine! What if I am?"

You take a hold of his hands, "baby, you can't seriously be jealous over a fictional character...", you tried to hold on your laughs for the sake of Harry.

"It's not that!", H removed his hands from yours and laid down.

"Then what is it? Tell me, please.", you removed the pillow on your thighs as you maneuver near his head and put it on your thighs instead.

You waited for an answer but received none. 

"Baby it's just an avatar...", running your right hand thru his hair then pecked his nose.

"I know. God, I know! I'm just being stupid, forget it.", he hides his face on your legs but it's too late, you already saw the redness on his face.

"Tell me please, baby."

Harry answered you with inaudible voice so you his head on a place where you can see his face and hear him properly, "come again H?"

"I said I wasn't jealous of that stupid avatar, I-", you looked at him accusingly and he sighed, "okay, fine! Was jealous of the avatar and the game. Just wanted your loving but you weren't paying attention to me and it made me realize that any guy can have your attention. I mean that avatar got you hooked already! And that's only a game... what if it's a real guy? Someone who'll be with you all the time and not someone who's on the other side of the world half of the time?"

"Oh love...", you pulled his body up as a sign for him to sit down and he did, "first of all I'm sorry for ignoring you, it won't happen again, I promise.", you kissed his left cheek twice and continued, "second, there will be no other guy! You understand me, H?", cupping his face with your hands so he'll look at you in the eyes.

"But you're probably bored that's why yo-"

"You, stop that. I would choose you every time, okay? Even with the premium choices in the game! I love you, and only you and there will be no other guy, okay?", you explained to him but his face still looks sad.

"I love you, you know that, right Harry?"

"I do and I'm so honored that you do and I love you too Y/N."

"See! There's nothing else to worry about, yeah?", you can see his smile trying to creep back, "now, kissy? Pleaseee!"

Finally, your boyfriend kissed you, pinning you close to his body and taking you both down to the bed. The kiss is soft, slow and sweet until you decided to break it.

Harry whined, "what now?"

"I can start a new story on Episode and make an avatar look like you! Or you can install it too and get a revenge? Or i don't know make it look like me?", you offered as you sit up again.

"How about you delete it and play with your real boyfriend? Hmmm? Sounds good?"

It sounds like a good deal, great deal. Spectacular actually, "but I just bought those gems and all..."

"Fine, but you're playing it with me. I can't have you kissing other guys even if it's fictional!"

You bopped his nose with your pointer finger, "okay deal! But only if you gave me some of your chips!", you reached across him to his bedside table for the bag only to find it empty.

"Uh oh..."

You straddled your boyfriend, "yes. Uh oh your self, Styles."

"Hmmm, are you trying to seduce me, future Missus Styles?", Harry raised his left eyebrow at you, also sitting up.

"What?"

"What what?", Harry chuckled.

"Yo- you just... you called me..."

"I did.", he said coolly.

You started playing with your fingers out of nervousness, "what do you me-"

"Marry me."

"What?", you alarmingly looked up to him only to see him getting something on his drawer on bedside table.

Pulling up a small square dark blue velvet box, Harry slowly opened it, "I know this isn't the most ideal proposal but I couldn't wait any longer. I had this ring for months now, waiting for the right time to give it to you. I was planning on doing one of those Pinterest worthy proposals like I saw on your board so I'm sorry to disappoint..."

You're crying at this point, "no, no no..."

Harry started closing the box at your answer.

"NO! Stop!", you hold Harry's hand to stop him from closing the box, "what I mean is, this is perfect, I- I don't need those Pinterest like proposal..."

"So are you saying...?"

"Yes! Yes yes! I'll marry you! Oh my God I'm deleting my Episode right now!", you started to remove your body from his but his big hands prevented you from doing so.

"We'll I'm glad that you're deleting it but...", Harry got the ring out of the box and took your left hand, slowly sliding it on your ring finger.

"It's beautiful. Gorgeous.", you looked into each other's eyes that's full of tears, smiling then meeting each other's lips.

You pulled away, out of breath. 

"So you're marrying me now.", Harry concluded.

"Did you just asked me to marry you cause you're jealous?", you poked fun at your now fiancé.

"I'm not answering that.", he took your phone from the bed and unlocked it, "are you sure you want to delete this?"

You nodded, "do the honors baby.", you smiled at him as he did so then kissing him again once the app was removed from your phone.

"I love you."

"I love you more H. I'm gonna pamper you tomorrow, promise. We'll do face masks and everything but for now, I think we need to... celebrate!", you winked at him while slowly pushing him down the bed, which is an easy task since you're still straddling him.

"We definitely do.", with that, Harry flipped the both of you so you're under him and hid yourself under the thick blankets on the bed.

You can guess what happened next. Let's just say that Harry kept you pretty well preoccupied for the next few hours until it was time for dinner.

And after the dinner, he made sure that both of your desserts are well served - if you know what I mean.

Who would have thought that Harry will propose to you at this day when he was just grumpy earlier? But oh, you're not complaining.

_____

[mxtantrights]

˚ · . · ✵PART THIRTY-THREE

word count: 2k

warnings: crying ( happy tears) and winer hats??

HAWKINS, INDIANA

APRIL 1985

It was nice day for lounging. And that's what I was doing. My eyes closed, taking in the soft wind coming from the open window.

Jonathan and I were hanging out around the school even though it was over for the day. He was using the dark room for his pictures still and wanted to develop some before the day was over.  We have plans to get some food after, so I'm just chilling inside his car until he's done.

Well not chilling per say. College acceptances would be going out soon. I was freaking out on the inside- for me, Steve, Nancy and Jon. I know I didn't need to worry about everyone but it just happens sometimes. I wanna see everyone get what they want you know?

"Jessie?"

I sit up and open my eyes at the sound of my name. I recognize the voice even though it's not one that I've heard in a while. Or one that I wanted to hear.

Billy Hargrove.

"Hi?" It comes out more of a question- because the last time we talked it ended with him almost punching me and him being knocked out.

"I just wanted to apologize to you, formally. I know that night I-" He begins to explain himself. Like I wasn't there. Like I wasn't there when he beat on Steve, almost beat on Lucas and me. So I cut him off.

"I don't forgive you. Honestly I don't know if I really can," I start and I see his face drop. He doesn't look sad, instead he looks just like understands. "We can't be friends Billy. But we can be civil for your sister."

He nods his head. "Right. Civil."

"We've only got two more months until we don't have to run into each other in the hallways, or the parking lot. Seems fair doesn't it?" I ask him even though it's rhetorical. All I ever was going to be was civil with him.

"Yeah Jessie, it's fair. See you around." He puts swiftly and then he's gone like he never appeared.

I sit back in my seat but I keep my eyes open. Not that he's gonna come back and punch me or something. Just to watch him actually leave. It wasn't easy seeing him in the hallways after that night happened.

But I dealt with it because he and I didn't talk to one another.

And it's not like were gonna be friends now. Just civil for Max's sake. I don't need bad blood spilling onto me and Max's friendship. Or her and Mickey's.

-

"I swear you guys are so cute. If everyone in their right mind could see it, they'd vote you as best couple." I speak as I dip my fries into the ketchup.

He laughed in between bites of his burger.

"So when are you expecting the acceptance letters?"

I almost choke on my fry. It was like he could read my mind or something. I look over at him a little shocked at first. "Dude are you in my head?"

"It's written all over your face today."

"Yeah well, I think they're coming soon. And I really don't know how I did, I didn't even apply to schools for music-"

"What? Why didn't you apply for music? It's all you do." He cuts me off and asks.

I wince a bit at having admitted that out loud and I grab handful of fries. I didn't tell anyone except my dad. I had missed the pre-screening additions for most of the schools. And that meant that I had no chance at auditions.

So basically applying as a music major was out the window. I had to apply to just the schools instead of both the school and the music school. Which meant that I could still get in but I would have to wait to audition again.

Also meaning that I'd be going someplace far away from here for no reason yet.

"I missed the cut off. But it's fine, I still applied. I can take care of the rest if I get accepted." I explain with a mouth full of fries. Jonathan is giving me a look like he didn't catch what I said so I say it again. This time with my mouth not full.

"I think you mean when you get accepted." He corrects.

I roll my eyes. "Thanks Jon."

"No thank you, I can't believe I'm friends with the soon to be Famous Jessie Glendall."

-

"I figured I should get a job-" I begin to explain but the sound of forks and knives clattering onto plates makes me stop and flinch a bit. What was so shocking about me getting a job? "Me getting a job isn't breaking news."

My dad clears his throat and picks back up his fork. He's blinking oddly for a few seconds. "Wow I mean, I just wasn't expecting it. Not to say I didn't think you could get a job- you know I wouldn't think that. It's just.."

"That means I can go places by myself." Mickey sort of mumbles loud enough for us to hear. When he looks at the both of us and sees that we did in fact hear him he stands from his seat. "I have freedom!"

"Hey!"  I yell at him, picking up a piece of broccoli from my plate and throwing it at him.

I miss him by an inch because he swerves.

"No- Jessie-" My dad starts to scold me.

But it's too late. I'm picking up another piece and throwing it. This time it impacts with Mickey's head. He of course plays the dramatics and makes drops to the floor in 'pain'.

I roll my eyes at his performance. "Oh bite me, get off the floor."

"Jessie can you please not throw vegetables at your brother," My dad points his hand to my seat, for me to take. I take it as he then looks at my brother. "Mickey can you sit down and not wave your possible new found freedom in front of your sister's face?"

I watch closely as Mickey gets up from the floor and slides into his seat.

"That mall is gonna be opening up soon and I think I'll apply to a few places and see which one takes me." I continue.

Mickey snickers. "Are you gonna work at a Weiner place?"

"Jessie please don't throw anything at your brother."

I squint my eyes at my brother. "I'll give you a wedgie so hard that you won't have a wenie."

"Hey!" Mickey yelps and I see the fear in his eyes. "Dad! She can't say that!"

I mock him in another voice.

"Jessie please don't apply to any weiner places, for the sake of the house."

"Fine."

HAWKINS, INDIANA

APRIL 1985

I'm fiddling with my hands again. I don't know what to say. It's like I didn't want thing same things for myself as I did before. Before everything happened. And I feel like if I say that then I'm gonna be told that I'm holding back, or not letting go.

"Tell me what's on your mind." Lisa's voice calls out.

I look up at her now.

"I want," I begin but my breath hikes in my throat. "I just want to be with my family. Music is important to me but not as much as them. At least for the first year."

Lisa nods her head at me and holds her finger up. She ducks down into her cabinet and pulls out a piece of paper. She slides it over on her desk towards me with a small smile on her lips, then holds her hands together.

Hawkins Community college?

"You dad filled out a copy in early January before the deadlines. This is a photocopy. " She explains to me as I pick up the paper. It's an application form like the ones me and her filled out together in December.

Except it's in his handwriting. And it's for Hawkins Community college.

"He filled this out for me?" I ask.

She nods her head. "Now he wasn't supposed to, but I may have helped and sent it in. You father was supposed to tell you, so you would know. Since, you know, what we did was not really legal."

I can't help to laugh at that. My dad and my college counselor possibly committed a minor crime for me. It sounds a little crazy, but trust me I know crazy.

"But why would he fill it out if-" The doubt starts to sink in quickly.

"He does believe in you, don't doubt that for a moment sweetheart. I had to pry it out of him but he told me it was because he wanted you close," She gets up from her swivel chair and takes a seat next to me, and takes my hand. "Said it was awfully selfish of him, but a big part of him just couldn't stand to see his little 'Jess Odess' go so far away."

"He's such a smother sometimes." I laugh at my own joke and so does she.

"Look, let's wait until you get all your options first. Then you can decide. And if you choose to tay here the community college is a great start for music. It could be your launch pad whenever you're ready to launch."

"Thank you, thank you so much Lisa."

-

"Why do your eyes look puffy and red?"

If it were anyone else I would try to hide it. Try to sniffle my nose and rub my eyes to get rid of the evidence that I was crying. Not that I don't like crying. I'm just not the best at accepting more than a hug from someone.

But it was Steve. I knew he wouldn't give me any shit for crying.

He sits next to me on the outside bench, shoulder to shoulder.

"I was just with Lisa, talking about schools and stuff." I answer.

"Is everything okay?"

I nod my head vigorously at him and I can even feel my eyes watering again. "Yeah Steve. Everything is fine."

He pulls me into a hug and I do the same to him. "These are happy tears? We love happy tears."

I can hear my laugh a little bit over the commotion of outside. It was lunch so that meant the middle school was playing outside. And the highschoolers were hanging around or trying to skip to get real food.

"Yeah we do," I pull away from him and his face reminds me of what I wanted to ask him. "Oh I almost forgot- I'm gonna be applying for jobs in the mall."

"Really?"

"Okay what is it with everyone being surprised that I want to get a job?" I let out a playful sigh. It was kind of funny that people were shocked that I'd want a job. Maybe because they thought I was some superstar.

"No no no- it's not that I'm surprised, I'm more happy than surprised actually." He starts of sputtering like a car engine until he gets it right. I nod along to his answer.

"Happy for me possibly working at a place where I'd have to wear a hot dog on my head?" I rest my hand on the top of my head with a finger pointing up. It's really creative imagery, as creative as I can get.

His face scrunches up as he laughs at my impromptu weiner hat.

"I mean yeah, I might be working there this summer too." He adds and that makes me shocked. I figured if Steve ever wanted a job he'd just slum it at his dad's place. I know he probably wouldn't want to but it beats wearing a weird job outfit.

Steve in a weiner hat.

I laugh at the mental image in my head. "I just imagined you in a weiner hat and I have to say, not too bad."

"Not too bad, what about my hair?"

"Calm down pretty boy there's more to you than your hair."

[thatonecurlygirl]

Biology of Billy Hargrove [8]

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Billy x Reader Word Count: ~2k Warning: none Read more: Biology of Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Sex burns approximately 3.6 calories a minute. If Lisa-Anne Jeenkins isn’t being the lying twit she usually is that means she and Billy burned 432 calories each from their two-hour fuck session last night. She beams and brags, flipping her hair as she sits on top of the booth table, her friends surrounding her.

“I can’t stand her.” You groan, rolling your eyes and dipping back into your banana split.

“They probably weren’t even together last night.” Angie huffs. “We both know Billy has a thing for you.”

“Doesn’t mean he is or even has to be loyal to me, we aren’t together. So what if he is out knocking boots with some bimbo. I just hope to God it wasn’t her.” You scoff, looking over at Lisa.

Lisa is looking back at you, an amused smile pinned on her thin lips. She Flips her hair over her shoulder again, eyes trained on you as she talks to her friends, posse, mindless minions.

“You should have seen how he was all over me. I don’t think there was an inch of this body that his tongue didn’t tease.” She runs her hands down her body theatrically. “Thinking about it has me all hot.” She fans herself.

“Fuck her.” You mumble.

“Sounds like you may be a little pissy because you’re possessive?” Angie questions. “Have you seen him recently?”

“Just Monday, not yesterday or today.” You shrug.

“Not since the two of you were making out after he broke in to let you in your house?”

“That’s right.” You nod, taking another bite of your ice cream and trying to avoid looking at her.

“I’m supposed to call him when I get home.” Lisa-Anne’s voice cuts through and you glare up at her to see her all in her story. “I’m supposed to go over to his place tonight.”

“Oh.” Angie gasps.

“What?” You look over at her, but before you are able to get an answer from her, Billy slides into the booth next to you. “Oh, Billy. What are you doing here?”

“I saw your car, thought I’d stop in.” He smiles at you and then at Angie. “What’s going on here?” He asks the two of you.

“Just listening to Lisa-Anne share the highlights of your escapades last night?” You inform him, nodding over to Lisa-Anne and all her friends who have all suddenly got quiet.

“She’s telling everyone we fucked?” He chuckles. “She wishes we did.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t sleep with Lisa-Anne?” You ask, skepticism painting your face.

“Despite what it seems like, I don’t fuck every chick I come across.” He laughs, amused. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, little rabbit.”

“Again with the nickname.” You groan, rolling your eyes.

“You love it.” He counters.

“Oh, she absolutely does. She was talking about how much she loves being called that just before you came in.” Angie plays along.

“You’re ridiculous.” You sigh playfully, looking at the clock on the wall by the bathrooms. “Oh, I’ve got to head out. I promised Mom I would be home before they leave for Dad’s business trip  tonight.” You nudge Billy in a gesture to tell him to let you out.

“Home alone?” He smirks. “You want company?”

“I want you to move, so I can leave.” You push against his boulder-like hard bicep.

He slides out of the booth and stands up, allowing you to slide out too. You gather your trash and take it to the garbage, turning around to see your best friend and Billy Hargrove sitting in the booth and chatting to each other. A ping of jealousy rumbles in your stomach, but you push it down and replace it with a smile.

“Bye, talk to you later.” You wave and skip out of the Dairy Queen and to your car.

When you arrive home, your parents are loading the trunk with their bags. They are only going to be gone for two days, but they always pack more than what they need. It’s likely more because your parents are spontaneous people and they rarely ever know what they are going to do until they are in the middle of doing, which is something you haven’t inherited from them. You are a planner, you have to have everything mapped out and create back-up plans for your back-up plans.

“Ah, great. We left some money on the fridge in case you want to order pizza or something for dinner while we are gone. Make sure the doors are locked before you go to sleep and we will call you before bed each night.” Your mom lays out the ‘rules’ and kisses your forehead.

“Be good, kiddo.” Dad says, hugging you before heading to the car.

“Always am.” You call back and he just quirks his eyebrow and smiles, waving as they pull out of the driveway.

“They packed like they’ll be gone for three years!” Dustin exclaims as the kids walk up the street toward you.

“Yeah, I never know with them.” You laugh. “What are you three up to?” You ask looking at Dustin, Max, and Lucas.

“We wanted to walk Max home.” Lucas says, nodding toward his girlfriend.

“You’ve got yourself a keeper, Max.” You nudge her.

“Thanks guys, I’m going to hang out here with Y/n.” She sits the porch swing. “See you guys tomorrow.” “Bye Max.” The boys say, waving as they turn and walk back down the street.

“So where are your parents going?” She asks as you sit down beside her.

“My Dad has a work conference in Indianapolis. He and my mom like to make a mini semi-vacation out of it.”

“Without you?”

“I’d rather not go to those, it’s not my ideal ‘vacation’.” You explain.

“Hm, okay.”

The familiar roar of an engine gets louder and louder until you spot the source of the noise. Billy and his beloved vehicle make their way down the street and into his usual parking spot. He hops out, adjusting his clothes before looking over at you with a smile and wink. You didn’t notice before but he is wearing a new pair of jeans. You thought the other pairs looked good on him, but God himself must have made those jeans just for him.

“Oh my God!” Max groans from beside you.

“You like Billy don’t you?” She asks.

“What are you talking about? No, I don’t like Billy.” You shake your head, denying the tingling feeling in your cheeks.

“You were supposed to distract him that one time and now your drooling.” She places the back on her hand to your forehead. “Shit, I think we broke you. Are you overheated? Having a crisis?”

“Oh, stop that.” You push her hand away. “No, I’m not falling for Billy. He get’s under my skin and I thought it’d be funny to do the same to him.” You say, not confident in how things are going at the moment.

“Okay well, just don’t fall in love with him or anything. I like you and would hate if he hurt you.” She stands up. “Can we come swimming tomorrow?”

“Of course.” You nod, standing up and opening the front door. “I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, bye!”

—————

You’re sprawled across the couch in the clothes Billy let you borrow and was kind enough to let you keep. They still smell like him and you can’t decide if it makes you a creep or not to just lay there and take in the smell. Channel after channel goes by as you flip through, trying to find something to watch and you are startled when there’s a knock at your door.

Confused, you set the remote down on the coffee table and crawl off the couch, making your way to the front door. Three more knocks at the door and three rings of your doorbell sound before you are able to open the door. When you do, there stands Angie and Billy, pizza in hand. They just walk in and straight to the living room, leaving you standing there confused as you close the door.

“Glad to see the two of you are getting along. Oh, and uh what are you here?” You ask, walking into the living room, hand on hip.

“Movies and pizza!” Angie exclaims looking at you. Her face contorts to confusion and she tilts her head. “Whose clothes are you wearing?”

“Yeah, Y/n, whose clothes are those?” Billy smirks.

“I-uh, they are - it was raining and I, well Billy he-“ You stutter and try to explain why you are wearing Billy’s clothes.

“Wait,” she looks from you to Billy “Those are yours? What have you two been up to?”

“Nothing!” You huff. “Nothing, now give me a slice.” You walk over and reach into the box for a slice of pizza.

“She does look hot in them though.” He smirks, looking you up and down.

“Shut up, Billy.” You mumble, pulling your feet underneath you as the movie starts.

A movie and a half in and you are already asleep, leaning against Billy with your head tucked into his side. He sits there, arm gently wrapped around you as he continues watching the movie. Angie, she goes back and forth between watching the movie and looking at the two of you cuddled up.

“Hey, y/n.” Angie gently nudges you awake. “I’m going to head out, it's getting late. You should head to bed too.”

“Oh, shit.” You are shocked out of your sleepiness when you open your eyes to see the time. “It’s late Ang, you can just stay here tonight if you want.” You nod to the stairs that lead to your room.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, go up and find you something to change into.” You smile, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and stamina up off the couch.

“Thanks.” She runs up the stairs to your room and wordlessly walk with Billy to the door.

“Thanks for coming over and hanging out. I appreciate it.” You smile, opening the door and stepping out onto the front porch with him.

“Anytime.” He smiles. “I actually like hanging out with you.”

“Actually? You make it sound like you enjoying my company is surprising.” You laugh.

“Not going to lie, I was a bit surprised. You’re hot, but you hang out with Max and her friend. I didn’t expect you to be…”

“You didn’t expect a loser to be fun?” You question, giving him a hard time.

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “A lot of fun.” His voice goes quiet and raspy, his eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes that are sparkling in the street lamps.

You can feel your fingertips tingling at just the thought of touching him. Before you even know what you are doing, you reach out and grab the front of his shirt, pulling him in to you. Your lips softly land on his, his fingers grip your waist as he pulls you into him as close as he can before sandwiching you between him and the window.

“This is a bad idea.” You whisper against his lips. You can feel him smile against yours before trailing kisses down the cord of your neck.

“It might be, but it feels right.” He growls nipping at your neck.

All of a sudden Billy stops and takes a step back, disconnecting all touch. He smirks down at you and reaches out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Billy?”

“Go out with me… Friday.” You aren’t sure whether he is asking or telling you.

“Okay.” You nod.

“Good.” He smiles, walking backward to the edge of your porch. “Goodnight, y/n.”

“Night Billy.” You smile, turning around and walking back into your house.

“Well, that fucking happened!” Angie yells, jaw dragging the floor.

“Shut up and let’s go to sleep.” You close the front door, hiding your smile behind your hand as the two of you make your way up to your room

_ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . 

Biology of B.H. Taglist: @dontxfearxthereaper @magicwithaknife @chims-kookies @ashleymarieriffle @cynthianokamaria @billyhargovesgurl @gingertalksshit @weyheyavengers @queenemoscene @charmed-asylum @speedmetalqueen  @katiexdacre @devilslittlebabygirl @xxemoluverxx

Billy Hargrove Taglist: @xicarcalii @hargrovesprincess @super-strange-sons @asheseiler @admiralsixx @lady1505 @lets-be-heroes-justforaday @queenemoscene

[ghostspideys-moved]

We’ll Have Tomorrow

Chapter Three

A/N: So, in case anyone was just curious or whatever, I made a carrd that has both River and Hawthorne’s bios. Just thought it would be something a little fun.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC, Jonathan x Nancy x OC (eventually)

Summary: Now that they’ve made it to the junkyard, they play the waiting game where some secrets are finally shared.

Lucas volunteered to keep an eye out from a safe spot on top of the bus. That meant the rest of them just had to sit inside and wait. 

Dustin was already pacing, and Steve was playing with his lighter. River wasn’t feeling any less antsy than both of them. Max kept glancing between the four of them, seemingly trying to process everything from what River could tell. She hardly blamed Max for her disbelief. This was a crazy thing for anyone to wrap their head around. 

Even with the extra information she had, River still was having a hard time herself. Or maybe it was more that she couldn’t believe she was actually having to deal with something she’d hoped she’d escaped for good.

“So, you really fought one of these things before?” Max asked. River and Steve both gave a simple nod in response. In River’s case, that was kind of an understatement. While she was terrified of the Demogorgons and hadn’t actually fought one before, she wasn’t going to let them deal with it alone. Plus, she’d be quite a bit of help to them, whether they knew it or not.

“And you’re a hundred percent sure it wasn’t a bear?” River only wished that were the case. They wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble for a bear.

“Don’t be an idiot, okay? It wasn’t a bear.” River was certainly surprised by Dustin’s response. This kid wasn’t actually taking Steve’s advice, was he? At this rate, he wasn’t going to win Max over at all. 

When Dustin continued to get on her case, Max left to join Lucas.

“That’s good,” Steve said. “Show her you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

Steve winked, and Dustin just looked at him weirdly. “Why are you winking, Steve? Stop.”

River felt like she had to help fix this situation somehow. “God, Dustin. Don’t listen to him. Being a dick isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

“This works all the time, the kid is going to be fine.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “What? Because that’s what you do with every girl you come across?” she asked. 

Steve sputtered, trying to come up with an equally sarcastic answer. He shook his head.

“I don’t see you doing any better,” he said.

“Even if I wanted to, my dad would never let me get near another guy.”

“Dad would kill you,” Hawthorne added. “Because he’s an abusive asshole who doesn’t let either of us do shit.” He said it so casually, as if he was stating something as simple as the weather. She hated how easy it was for her brother to just bring up things like that.

River shot him a look of disbelief. If she had something to throw at him, she would have done it already. 

“Dad is just...overprotective,” she corrected.

“Oh, and I’m sure that’s why he hits us.”

“Yeah, woah. That is not overprotective,” Steve agreed. “How have you not told someone about this?”

Deep down, River knew they were both right, and she should have done that by now. She was way too scared to do anything about it though. 

“It’s not that easy,” she said. “I want to but...he’s kind of the only family we have left.”

“I’ve been trying to tell her that we need to do something about that shit.” Hawthorne sighed. 

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound too good,” Dustin said. “Maybe Hopper could help after all of this is over.”

Getting the police involved was the last thing she wanted, much less the chief. That would only make things worse.

“I’ll figure something out, okay? I already have way too much to worry about on top of all this,” River claimed. “Dad’s already going to be pissed by all the detention I’ve been getting.”

“Wait a second.” Steve seemed to be having an epiphany. “You’re the one who pulled the fire alarm last week,” he realized.

“It was the only way I could think of getting out of P.E.”

“You know, normal people skip class or fake being sick.”

“Looking back on it, not my best moment, I’ll admit. It was pretty stupid, actually. And I don’t know if you noticed, Harrington, but I’m hardly normal,” River countered. “Everyone at school already thinks I’m a freak anyways. I can hear them thinking it.”

“Thinking it?” She sighed and shook her head, hesitating a bit before attempting to explain. “Alright, this is gonna sound crazy, but I can hear people’s thoughts.”

Dustin and Steve shared a shocked look. “Wait, you can hear people’s thoughts?” Dustin clarified.

“That’s what I said, yeah.”

What am I thinking about right now?”

“Max and Dart, mostly.” She could tell he felt bad about being such a jerk, and clearly he was still worried about Dart on top of feeling bad for keeping a secret form his friends.

Dustin’s eyes widened. He had the most excited look on his face. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “You’re like El.”

“Who?”

“El. She’s our friend,” he explained, his expression turning grim. “Or, she was anyways. We called her El, short for Eleven.”

“Like the number Eleven?” River asked, slowly realizing something.

Dustin nodded. River shared a knowing look with her brother, which he definitely appeared to notice. 

“Do you know her?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed. She was starting to understand just how smart this kid was. They couldn’t keep everything to themselves for much longer, that much was clear to her now.

“No,” River hesitated. And that was definitely the truth. “Not personally. But, that isn’t to say we don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

Dustin’s eyes widened as he was putting two and two together. “Wait, so if you guys have cool powers and shit, does that mean you guys came from Hawkins lab, too?” he asked.

River was debating on her answer. There wasn’t much use hiding things anymore, clearly. She nodded and pulled up her sleeve, revealing a number tattooed along her forearm. 004.

Hawthorne sighed, giving in and showing his as well. 004.5.

Before she could say anything else, a loud growl sounded from nearby. The four of them scrambled to look out the window, their eyes scanning for any sign of Demogorgons.

Dustin called out for Lucas, hoping his vantage point would help them out. While they couldn’t see any from inside, he had a lot more luck than they did.

“Ten o’clock! Ten o’clock!” 

Sure enough, there was one waiting outside, only a few yards away. And if River knew anything about Demogorgons, which admittedly wasn’t very much at all, one could possibly mean there were more.

“He’s not taking the bait,” Steve realized. “Why is he not taking the bait?” 

“Maybe he’s not hungry,” Dustin suggested.

That answer didn’t really sit well with her. It just didn’t make sense. Those things always seemed to be hungry, so why not now?

“Maybe he’s tired of cow.” 

River’s eyes widened as she realized what he was talking about. “There’s no way you’re going out there,” she said, though he didn’t seem to be listening. 

Steve was already grabbing his bat despite Dustin’s worried protests. He tossed his lighter over to him, a determined look on his face.

“Just get ready.” Before anyone could stop him, he stepped out of the bus.

Hawthorne shook his head and watched from the window again. “He’s got a deathwish,” he mumbled. 

River watched with bated breath as he tried to get the Demogorgon’s attention. Max rushed down the ladder to join them, squeezing in between River and Dustin. 

“What’s he doing?” she exclaimed.

“Expanding the menu.”

“Getting himself killed.”

“Being a total idiot.” River crossed her arms. “There’s not a chance in hell he’s getting out of this on his own.”

She watched as he pressed on. Maybe he was an idiot, but she had to give him credit for being brave as hell. Or perhaps the two were connected. Brave, stupid, or maybe both. Both sounded good. 

Lucas called out as another Demogorgon appeared from the fog, and it had friends slowly surrounding Steve. Dustin made a dash for the front of the bus and opened the doors, trying to give him an opening to escape. Judging by how many there were, she doubted he would make it in time. 

River bit her lip and looked around for her hockey stick. She didn’t have the slightest semblance of a plan, but that wasn’t what really mattered to her right now. Grabbing her hockey stick, she pushed past the kids, her brother grabbing her arm. “What the hell are you doing?” Hawthorne’s grip didn’t loosen much when she tried to pull away. 

“He’s an idiot, but I’m not letting him get killed,” she explained, pulling free of his grip after a moment. 

Despite her brother’s protests, she ran out the doors and went to help Steve, who was thankfully fighting back. She got in a good hit on one that was sneaking up behind him.

It was going well all things considered, but there were a lot of them, and her hockey stick was only able to handle so much force. Cursing under her breath, she eventually tossed it aside and opted to just use her powers. She pulled Steve over and was able to temporarily make a force field over the bus as they escaped. 

The kids were hollering for them to hurry and get inside where it was safe. River grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the bus, her focus faltering just long enough in the rush to get to safety for the force field to dissipate. She pushed him inside right before she felt something pulling her back. A Demogorgon had a grip on her foot, it’s teeth digging into her skin. She nearly tripped trying to pull herself free, but Steve grabbed her arm and pulled her in, causing both of them to topple over and hit the floor. Dustin closed the doors as soon as she was safely inside. 

River tried to catch her breath and sit up. She winced, her leg protesting her movement. It was indescribable how much pain she felt just sitting up. It was like every nerve in her leg was on fire.

“You weren’t supposed to follow me out there,” Steve said as he sat up. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” River retorted. “There’s no way you could have actually thought that was going to end well at all. Unless you’re that stupid.”

Steve didn’t have much time to respond. He was trying to keep the Demogorgons from getting inside. He was succeeding  mostly, but there were too many surrounding them, and they were clawing ferociously at all sides. 

River tried standing, but her leg was still in way too much pain. She willed herself to stick it out and try to help him keep the creatures from getting inside. She could hear Dustin calling for help through his walkie-talkie, the horrid sound of claws scraping at metal, and Hawthorne trying to keep everyone else calm. Which wasn’t exactly going well. 

Everyone froze as soon as they noticed a banging sound coming from above, followed by Max screaming. Steve pushed everyone back and wielded his bat, almost daring the Demogorgon to attack. 

The most surprising part was when the creature paused and turned, as if it was being called to by some unseen force. It glanced back at them before stalking away. River wasn’t sure why it had left, but she didn’t think it could be for any good reason. 

Clamoring over to the door again, the group slowly opened the door, Steve being the first to exit in case of a surprise attack. They could see the last Demogorgon fleeing, meaning they were safe. For how long, she wasn’t really sure, but River was sure they wouldn’t have long.

“What happened?” Lucas asked, peering around in confusion.

“I don’t know.”

“Steve scared them off.”

“No. No way.” Steve turned to them as he had a realization. “They’re going somewhere.”

//

Taglist: @bravest-at-heart​ @musicalytrashpanda​ @queenofthehairharrington​

[honeymoonjin]

the daily grind - jjk oneshot

A/N - 2k word count. No warnings needed.

Jungkook would love to ask out the cute girl that always comes to the coffee shop. If only she would actually look up from her textbooks.

Every uni student and their grandma had done a stint at a coffee shop. Most did it for some work experience and easy cash, ditching the job as soon as they found one where they could spend the shift sitting down instead of being on their feet for six hours.

Jungkook was happy to say he was different. Yes, he was doing the same-old coffee shop gig, but he really loved his job and had no interest in doing anything else until he graduated. He liked the coffee making process, sure, but one of the best things about this particular café was their bottomless refills.

If you ordered a black coffee at the Daily Grind, you could pay an extra two dollars for bottomless refills, and Jungkook would just pop out from behind the bar whenever he got the chance to come top up the drink for you. It meant that the number of actually difficult, elaborate drinks went down, and the number of easy customers who just wanted to stay wired in the most efficient way went up.

For being only a five-minute walk off campus, very few other university students actually came to study. Most were too entranced by the Starbucks on campus by the library to even think about outsourcing their caffeine.

There was one regular, though.

Jungkook figured she probably wanted a little more peace and quiet to get her work done, as she always had a bulky backpack filled with textbooks and stapled papers and stationery that she’d rotate through for hours at a time.

Maybe if the café was a little busier, Jungkook wouldn’t spend so much time thinking about her. But as it was, she was one of the only regulars that came in the afternoons while he was working, and over time he learnt more about her than he ever would have expected from a strange customer.

She was probably at least a year or two above him at uni judging by the long, super scientific titles of her engineering textbooks, and he had heard from his friend Jimin, who’s boyfriend was in third-year engineering, that by the time you got to that point, the pressures of good grades were heightened to the max, as well as the importance of trying to apply for apprenticeships and internships at a good company to get your foot in the door.

The stress of that whole situation certainly seemed to apply to her. He was pretty sure he could count on one hand the number of times she had actually looked at him when he came over to fill up her cup. She was either on hyper-speed, scribbling out equations and punching away on a calculator, or she was staring blankly at the page, half-heartedly doodling on a napkin to try and keep her mind occupied. Every few minutes or so, she rubbed her eyes gingerly like she had allergies or something.

That was another thing he had taken notice of over the several weeks she had been coming here. Her cute little drawings. Sometimes they were little blueprint diagrams as she worked out problems, but most of the time they were of a different style entirely.

Jungkook prided himself on having a good eye for art, seeing as he was two years deep into a photography degree at the fine arts school within the university, and he knew that she had a real gift, even though this was clearly the only practice she was getting. An empty cup with some dregs at the bottom; a shoe sticking out from behind a booth wall, a hand clasped around a coffee plunger handle that looked remarkably like his own. When she couldn’t think straight, she’d start drawing things she saw in the café.

One day, Jungkook noticed if she ran out of napkins she’d stop altogether and switch to impatiently drumming her fingers on the table and huffing. From that day on, he’d always bring three or four extra napkins every time he came over to top up her coffee.

The guilty pleasure of working here, one he’d never admit to but couldn’t help from doing, was that every time she left, he would dart over to her table and grab all the napkins for himself before the table got cleared by the cashier.

Whenever he found himself in a rut, not knowing how to photograph something original, he would take out those napkins and look over her drawings. He liked the way she saw the world. She focused on the details but made them look larger than life, in a way.

He would tell himself at 4pm every day of work, as he was tying on his apron, that today would be the day he’d work up the courage to talk to her.  He would create elaborate fantasies in his head, the way she smiled and blinked up at him as he spoke, like he was the only thing in the world to her. The way she would invite him to sit so that they could talk about their favorite classical artists and after his shift ended, she’d ask for his number.

But he could never do it. The pretty angles of her face would tense up with worry and stress the moment she opened up her hulking bag and dumped some more study material on the table. Her eyes never blinked up at him at all when he came over to her, and he didn’t even think she was aware of the extra effort he went to to provide her with drawing materials.

Jungkook just wasn’t headstrong enough to talk to her and risk a bad reaction. God, what if she got annoyed at him and left? What if she found another café where she wouldn’t be bothered and never came back?

He had gotten so used to seeing her four times a week while on duty that he didn’t know what he’d do with himself if he messed that up.

So, he just refilled her coffees and kept giving her more napkins. Over time, as the middle of the semester approached, she was bringing more and more textbooks and practice papers, was typing more furiously into her calculator, and the soft, introspective lines of her napkin vignettes became aggressive chicken scratch of the ‘wet floor’ sign and the lines of electrical wires on the ceiling and her own massive calculator.

He had come to expect this dead-eyed, clenched-jaw version of her, and it came as a great shock to him when a man, still young but definitely older than Jungkook, opens the door to the café with a little bell jingle, and immediately paces over to the booth she’s tucked into, loudly proclaiming her name and sitting across from her.

To Jungkook’s complete surprise, it’s like the sun has risen inside the room. She looks up and beams at him, pushing the stack of work between them to one side.

As they chat back and forth like old friends, Jungkook can barely focus on the takeaway order he’s supposed to be making. Why did she never smile like that to him, even before things got so hectic? He suddenly had a desperate longing to have her look at him like that, even once. The way her eyes lit up as she listened to the guy wax poetic about his philosophy paper and scrunched up her nose a little when she told a joke. The light but hearty resonance of her laughter that pealed out through the shop periodically. All these things were completely new to Jungkook, but he knew he wanted more.

At one point, the man hops up and comes over to the counter. The cashier is on her break, so Jungkook takes the order.

“Could I please get a croissant and she’ll have a…caramel slice, please. Oh, and could I have a large chai latte? Thanks.”

Jungkook has to clear his throat to keep from freezing. Since when did she ever order anything else other than the one bottomless coffee? Was it a date? “Yeah, sure. That’s just twelve dollars, fifty cents.” The man pulls out a card to pay with, and as the order is processing, Jungkook can’t help himself. “You two are a cute couple,” he offers.

Thankfully, the man just laughs. “That’s nice of you to say, but we aren’t a couple. Old friends, actually.”

Jungkook nods and muffles his relieved grin, pulling out a takeaway cup. “Could I have a name for the drink, sir?”

“Namjoon.”

“That’ll just be a couple minutes away.”

The man sits back down and the two resume their lively conversation, but Jungkook tunes out, already planning what he can say to get the girl to smile at him the way she’s smiling now.

Jungkook doesn’t see the girl for five days. Of course, two of those days are a weekend, but she doesn’t come to the Daily Grind on Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, and he can’t help but be saddened by the lack of her presence. Shifts seem so much longer, and for today, a drizzly Thursday, he is not looking forward to going back there.

For the first time since the start of the year, almost twelve weeks ago, Jungkook finds himself on the main campus, tasked with borrowing a book from the library about contemporary lighting techniques. The waitlist was thirty students long, but finally it was his turn.

The online catalogue told him it was on the fourth floor, so stairs were most certainly not an option. He gets in on the second floor, but to his shock, someone familiar is already in there.

It’s the girl from the café. His heart races as he stands next to her, but she doesn’t react.

He clears his throat. “I, uh, I haven’t seen you drop by for a while?”

She starts at the sudden noise, her eyes blinking wildly as she looks him over. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Oh,” Jungkook sighs. “I guess you probably don’t recognize me. I’m the barista at the Daily Grind, I do most weeknights.”

Her face lights up, though her eyes are still a little glassy. “Oh, Jungkook, right?”

“Y- Yeah.” She knew his name? Then why the weird reaction?

“I’m so sorry, I lost a contact earlier today, so I’ve been wandering around like a zombie, trying not to bump into things.” She gives him a little laugh, and he’s struck by how different she is here than she’s ever been in the café. She’s acting almost as friendly as when that Namjoon dude came into the store.

“Have you, uh, have you found a new café to go to?” The elevator stops on the fourth floor, but he makes no move to get out, and the doors close again. “I haven’t seen you around recently.”

“Oh, no, no more bottomless coffees for me. I’ve been studying like crazy for the midterm for way too long, and now that it’s over, I think I need to give my body some time to filter out the percentage of caffeine in my veins. Thank you for giving me extra napkins, by the way. I’m sorry I go through them so quickly, nervous habit, you know?”

His heart beats so strongly in his ears it almost sounds like waves crashing. So, this whole time, she had noticed him. And she had kept on coming back. “You’re all finished with the midterm, then?”

More people file in to the elevator from the sixth floor, but she takes no notice, swiveling around so she’s facing him head-on. “Yeah, actually, I got it back this morning, and I managed to get an A-! Honestly, I have no idea how that happened, but I guess all the desperate cramming paid off.”

“That’s amazing,” he enthuses. The button she had pressed, floor eight, was steadily approaching. This was the chance he had spent way too long dreaming up. “You should celebrate all your hard work,” he begins, giving her a soft smile, “I know this great little café you might like.”

[whirlybirbs]

second. ⇢ alfie solomons

summary: the subject of payment has alfie & you testing the waters. pairing: baker!reader x alfie solomons word count: 2k rating: some mild swearing & canon-typical banter a/n: alfie is going to work for this one, ok, i’m emotional about this goofy idiot.

“Miss, Mr. Solomons is here again --”

“Tell him to go away, Ellie.”

You’ve got a tray of five loaves in your arms, loading them fast into the oven and snapping the door shut. The heat sets along your face, sending your hair from its place swept high along your neck. You wring your hands from flour, sighing as you spot Ellie lingering in the doorway from the corner of your eye. The kitchen is hot and it’s doing nothing to quell your mood.

“Ellie.”

“Miss, he’s insisting --”

“There you are!”

He’s like Hades: charming and quick witted and terribly handsome, and God, he’s persistent. This is the second time this week he’s paraded himself through your bakery’s doors demanding you sit for an apology -- it’s all for show. And you’re not about to be muscled into some sort of new business deal from the infamous Solomons leader. You’re not looking to snack on seeds of pomegranate and lock yourself into his own version of hell.

Your father had a deal, and you intended to keep the deal.

The men working the shop watch as Alfred Solomons swaggers into the kitchen.

His cane snaps against the floors of the bakery; your eyes roll faster than you can catch them. As the man staggers into your bakery, you fleet about -- the icing for the O’Dooley’s wedding needs mixing, so you see to it. And Alfie watches.

His hat hangs low on his face. Green eyes watch from under the brim. He seems more predatory today than before. Even when he’d lurched through your front doors with his gargantuan personality, he’d not been so terrifying. But now? It’s almost like he’s looking for trouble.

Bones to pick his teeth with.

He scratches his beard before speaking again -- despite the mean look in his eye, he’s chipper, and you aren’t feeding into it. You turn, mixing bowl on your hip as you fold in the sugar with deft hands.

“Smells wonderful in ‘ere,” he says, waving ringed fingers through the air, “Really, love, s’nice, yeah?”

“Do you need something, Mr. Solomons?”

“Yeesh,” he breathes through gritted teeth, “M’ here t’ apologize, luv, really -- though I did come las’ week an’...”

“That was two days ago.”

You shove past him, dropping the bowl to the counter with a clatter and motioning to Alfie’s henchman crowding the tiers of cakes. Your hand falls to your hip, eyes narrowing when Ollie -- young and lanky -- doesn’t move.

“Well, I mean, yea, but t’was Friday, an’ now it’s Monday --”

Frustration builds fast and bubbles over. You throw your hands in the air, groaning loudly. When you turn on your heel and spy Alfie unceremoniously poking around by the pastry case, your voice rises sharply.

“Mr. Solomons, I have a bakery to run.”

He jumps a bit, gaze snapping from the macarons to you. “Alfie, luv, s’Alfie. M’not y’ father.”

No. He isn’t.

Alfie tries not to seem so… hungry. He blinks at you, straightening himself, and proceeds to wave Ollie off. The young man seems to hesitate, but upon Alfie settling into one of the stools by the island, he ducks out the back door and busies himself outside, watching carefully through the cakes in the shop window.

Ellie watches, keen on distrust, before you wave her off as well. No doubt she hurries off to gossip with your sister.

With Alfie’s settling in, you sigh.

Clearly this wasn’t just about an apology.

“I’ll try n’ make this quick, yeah?” it’s a low growl, “Your ol’ man had a deal wiv us, y’see, an’ now tha’ ‘e is dead in th’ ground, m’ makin’ sure you understand exactly wha’ kinda deal we made, yeah?”

“Mr. Solomons --”

“Alfie, just call me Alfie,” he snaps, quickly recoiling at the volume of his own voice, “No need fer th’ formalities, yeah? No need. Jus’... quit that.”

Reminds him too much of the Army.

You swallow, moving to cross the kitchen and discard his apart tantrum. “Then make it quick, Alfie, I have work to do. The O’Dooley’s wedding is tomorrow --”

“No shit,” he chirps, “Max?”

“No,” you breath, “Oldest one, Thomas.”

“Ah,” he leans back in his chair and it creaks, “Well don’ let me stop you, yea?”

You pause, only for a moment, before you unceremonious drop a tier to the kitchen island and gather a knife to begin icing. Alfie watches how quick your hands move, watches how careful you are -- you’ve been under the wing of your father for years, and as lead of The Bakery & Pastry Shoppe on Main, you have a reputation to uphold.

The family business had been built form the ground up.

It shows in the cracks in the walls; shows in the cutthroat way you hold yourself. You’re used to the threats, no doubt.

“You’d said you’d make this quick,” you shirk out, “If you’d like cake decorating lessons --”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alfie chatters, waving his hands and dropping his hat to the table. He looks younger like this, less like a wolf in sheep’s skin. His hair is unkempt, though you suppose that’s as much as his staple as the chains hanging low around his collarbone. He crosses his arms. Your gaze jumps to him for a mere second. “Yer father an’ I had a deal.”

“You said that.”

“Mm, an’ yer father paid me a fair sum t’ keep you an’ y’ sisters nice and safe, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“An’ still, I ‘aven’t gotten a payment,” Alfie says, voice rising, “An’ why’s that, lil’ girl?”

Alfie hadn’t expected the reaction he got.

In a blink, the knife you’d been using to ice the cake is drove into the kitchen island between his fingers, frosting flying across his shirt -- you’re dead-set, sneering in his face as you lean over the island. Alfie recoils, shouting.

“Good god, woman -- !”

The knife is retrieved from the wood with a satisfying plunk and is waved in his face. You’re rounding the counter, hunted turned huntress, and Alfie is rooted to his spot in his chair.

“My father told me about you -- told me plenty,” you spit, “You served alongside one another in that god forsaken war, he’d known your mother for christ’s sake. My father looked out for you as much as you did him. For you to come in here and belittle me --”

“Sorry, yes,” Alfie snaps, hand moving to press the frosting covered butter knife away from his face, “Rude a’ me.”

The knife snaps right back to its previous position.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t go to Sabini. Or the Shelby’s? Tell me why I should pay you all that when I could get the same amount of protection from the Peaky fuckin’ Blinders, huh? Or is all this,” you gesture to him, sitting there, looking rather wide-eyed, “all because of a bunch of gang territory horseshit?”

Alfie swallows, then, after a beat of silence speaks.

“Y’ know,” Alfie coughs, “Y’ father said t’ watch out fer y’ when th’ time came. M’ startin’ to realize ‘e meant tha’ you’d cut a man, rather than needin’ protection.”

You drop the knife then, frustration peaking. With a sigh, you wipe the knife quickly and turn your back on the gang leader.

“I’ll tell y’ why you shouldn’t go t’ those fuckin’ Peaky Blinders,” Alfie waves his hands, moving from his seat and leaning on the counter, “Because Tommy fuckin’ Shelby ‘as ‘is own shit to deal wiv, and a pretty lil’ bakery with a pretty lil’ baker is th’ last of ‘is fuckin’ worries, yea? I made a promise wiv y’ dad tha’ I would take care a’ you n’ your sisters. I ain’t lettin’ that slip.”

He closes the distance between you both, eyes wide -- he’s tall, even with his cane and crooked step. Your father had spoken fast about Captain Solomons. Imagining the man before you in that damned uniform your dad had come home in all those years ago? Impossible.

You can feel his breath fan across your face. You blink up from the cake.

“Don’t have your own shit to deal with, Mr. Solomons?”

A crooked smile.

“A promise is a promise, luv.”

A week later, you stroll through doors of Solomon's distillery.

Ollie nearly drops dead upon realizing it’s you getting out of the car pulled ‘round front. Your coat is pulled close, it’s only two weeks away from winter anyways, and your clutch is gripped tight in gloved hands.

“I’m here to see Alfie,” you say, peaking up at the lanky young man by the gates, “He doesn’t know I’ve come ‘round -- though, I have my payment with me. No doubt he’ll be willing to sit for that.”

Ollie hums, motioning you to follow. “No knives, Miss? Butter, icing or otherwise?”

You laugh. “No, but if you’d like to check --”

“Just procedure.”

The boys who stop you are quick. They pat you down, then give Ollie a nod. You slip them both a smile and follow Ollie.

The distillery is in the beaten up part of Camden, but there’s something about it that settles a bit of comfort into your bones. There’s a steady sense of work here -- the rooms smell like water and sugar and burns like rum.

Alfie’s office is at the end of the building, behind two heavy set steel doors. When Ollie knocks, he’s met with a low “Yea!” and the sound of shuffling. From behind Ollie, you watch as Alfie tugs the doors open and blinks between the two of you.

He’s dressed in a plain cotton shirt and apron, nose adorned with a pair of golden glasses. He looks at home here -- his office is warm.

“Well inn’ this a nice surprise.”

“May I come in?”

“Oh,” he breathes, “Right.”

Ollie lingers, watching by the far door, as you make your way into the room.

Alfie’s office is bathed in the warm light of gas candles, cluttered with paperwork and the back wall, behind his desk, is adorned with shelves and a heavy safe -- had you forgotten about the type of man you’d been dealing with before, you’d been reminded.

The gun on his desk is loaded.

He falls into the large leather chair with a breath, straightening his back and propping his elbows up on the desk.

“So,” he starts, “T’ what do I owe this pleasure? Gunna try n’ stab me again, yea? I wouldn’t say tha’s in y’ best interest, mm. Not ‘ere, s’ a territory thing, yea?”

You laugh. “Your boys patted me down.”

“Not too rough?”

“Not too rough.”

“Good,” he waves his hands, plucking his glasses from his face, “So, why’re y’ here?”

“Payment.”

You’re tugging your gloves off. Alfie is watching.

“Hm.”

Bare fingers muscle the stack of pounds from your clutch, leaning to place them onto his desk. Alfie quirks a brow, moving to lean to look at the small desk calendar to his left.

“It’s --”

“The eighth. I know,” you wave your hands, crossing your legs and huffing, “My father left a detailed will. He explained the payment system, how you preferred the transactions, when, the details of the agreement. I would have been here earlier had the bakery not been such a mess this morning.”

“So --”

“So, you coming into my bakery demanding payment? That was a way for me to see your play, Mr. Solomons.”

“Cheeky girl.”

You stand, gathering your gloves and clutch. Your smile is like a kick in the gut. Alfie Solomons has to catch his breath.

“Until next month, Mr. Solomons.”

“Alfie. Remember, m’ not y’ father.”

“No, you’re not.”

He laughs. You’re half way out the door when he calls your name.

“Mm?”

“I’ll be seein’ y’ sooner than the end a’ the month, yea.”

“Sure, Alfie.”

[somekindofroger]

One Year of Love (Chapter 13)

       Roger Taylor x Reader

previous chapters: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE, TEN, ELEVEN, TWELVE

Summary: FINALLY you and Roger started your relationship after lots of arguments and each one of you trying to not admit the feelings for each other. Well, this chapter is mostly how your relationship is going.

    A/N: WE ARE HEADING NEAR THE END MY LOVES (tbh idk how many chapters left, but heh, I feel like it’s almost done). Just to not be a rushed story, I tried to show a bit of their relationship, it wasn’t easy to be honest, I’m afraid it was a bit boring, ugh, I hope y’all like like it. Don’t forget the feedback, p l e a s e

> Grammar errors and typos as usual. If you want to know when the next chapters come out, send me an ask for a note so I can add you on the taglist. xx Words: 2k.  “Roger, I can’t concentrate if you keep trying to make everything in this living room a drum.”

           “But-”

           “If you want to make noise, why don’t you go home?”

           “But-”

           “I need to study or I can’t go to the gig tonight.”

           “Ok.”

           “Thank you.” He stayed quiet for a minute then he started to hum one of Queen’s songs.

           “Roger!” you complained again.

           “Alright! Sorry.” He apologized in what seemed to be the hundredth time in that day.

           “Don’t you want to go out to grab us some lunch?” you asked trying to make him leave the apartment somehow.

           “I thought we were going to have pasta-” he started when he saw your face. “Ok, I’ll be right back.”

           “Don’t worry.”

           “Day one and she already can’t stand me.” He said while grabbing a jacket, you couldn’t avoid but laugh a bit, he kissed your forehead before leaving the apartment, you could finally concentrate a bit.

             Roger had just left your building and it was going to cross the street when he saw a familiar face approaching.

           “Roger? Roger Taylor?” the man stopped him. Roger tried to remember where he was familiar from until he said so. “I’m looking for (Y/N), is she home? We were supposed to meet last night but she never showed up.”

           ‘Shit’, Roger thought.

           “Oh, Michael, isn’t it?”

           “Matthew.” He corrected. “Is she home?”

           “Mmh, she’s busy, mate. Don’t worry though, she will let you know what happened.” And Roger walked away, Matt touched his shoulder, trying to make him stop, but Roger pulled his own shoulder away so Matt couldn’t touch it. He turned around to see what that guy still wanted.

           “Are you two together or something?” Matt angrily asked. Roger was done with that guy.

           “Yeah, she’s my girl, you should back off.”

           “Why that bitch still went out with me if she’s dating you?”

           “Ok first, don’t you dare to offend her and second, that’s not of your concern but we only made things official last night.”

           “Oh, so it was very easy to keep me up waiting like a moron.”

           “You are a moron.” And Matt tried to punch Roger’s face but Roger dodged       it and punched his face, his nose started to bleed. “Don’t show around her again.” He said and left at once.

             One hour later Roger went back to your apartment.

           “Finally!” you exclaimed watching him arriving.

           “I went out for a walk too, so maybe you would have more time to concentrate.”

           “Did you bring my food?”

           “You mean our food?”

           “Yeah…” you said ironically. He gave you a box of Chinese food, he had learnt already that it was one of your favorites. “Oh my god, I love you.” You let it out and Roger widened his eyes.

           “The food.” You immediately corrected. “I meant the food.”

           There was a tension in the air for a moment and Roger didn’t know what to answer.

           “I met Max”

           “Max?” you asked confused while eating the food already.

           “Yeah, that guy you were dating.”

           “You mean Matt?”

           “Yes, that one. I punched him.” You almost choked with the food.

           “You what?” you almost yelled.

           “I mean, he tried to punch me first” Roger said as a defense. “He was coming to see you and he confronted me, I said we are now dating and he called you a bitch and well, we got there.”

           “I don’t know if I should be mad or flattered.”

           “You should clean yourself” he answered handing over a napkin to you, because you got your cheek dirty. The tension was no longer there.

             “I see two love birds” it was the first thing an excited Freddie said when saw the two of you arriving together.

           “Freddie Mercury, that’s (Y/N), my girlfriend.” Roger said.

           “Finally!” Brian said showing up behind Freddie. You just laughed.

           “Where’s Deaky?” you wanted to know.

           “Probably around that girl again, what’s her name?”

           “Veronica, I think. She seems nice.”

           “I feel like we will have to help him just like we did to our mate Rog over here.”

           And the conversation kept going for a while, until Freddie left to pay attention to other people. Roger was next to you most of the time, making you company and not leaving you alone. For a moment he left you to go grab some drinks, it was when Deaky showed up.

           “(Y/N)!” he excited exclaimed when saw you. “How are you?” he sat near you.

           “Hello, Mr. Deacon. I’m great, how’s your girl?”

           “Pf, can’t believe the guys already said about her.”

           “Well, I have heard about her before, but just saying I want to know her. She needs my approval.” You winked.

           “Of course” he smiled back “but not today, I want you two meet out of a party like this.”

           “If you insist.”

           “And how are the things going with Roger? He’s all smiley and so are you.”

           “Apparently we are dating now.” You shrugged hiding a smile.

           “Hey, that’s great, honey! Is that what you wanted, isn’t it?”

           “I guess, I like him but… I know it won’t last.” Deaky took a deep breath before answering you.

           “(Y/N), don’t think if it will last or not, just enjoy the now, alright?” he winked, smiling, right at this moment Roger was back, carrying the drinks. The three of you kept talking until left again to find his girl.

 Three months went on very well in the relationship of you and Roger, until the first bad arguing. Roger went out with the guys and got drunk, he didn’t let you know where he was going, he just called you in the middle of the night asking if you were awake so he could go to your place and the two of you could shag; you had to go pick him up. You didn’t like that he didn’t tell you that he was going out, you didn’t mind of him going out without you, you had learnt to trust him, although he didn’t let you know about this time.

           It was almost 2am when you arrived at the club to go pick him, your clothes were very normal compared to the others that people were wearing there, so you called out attention, people were opening room for you to pass. You found Roger sitting on a table, drunk, playing cards with other people, a girl in his arm.

           “(Y/N)!” he happily yelled when he saw you, standing up, completely ignoring the girl next to him. He hugged you and you tried to avoid him touching you. “Hey everyone, that’s my girl!” he let them all know. “Hey babe, what are you doing here?”

           “Roger, you’re shitfaced.” You affirmed as he didn’t know that. He laughed, that only made you angrier. “Let’s go home.”

           “Are you angry?” he asked trying to sound worried but he was trying to not laugh.

           “No, just disappointed that you didn’t tell me you were going out, you know I don’t mind, why wouldn’t you tell me?”

           “Hey, Roger, it’s your turn” some guy from the table yelled at him. Roger ignored him, he couldn’t think straight. You just put your arm around him and walked with him until outside, you looked for his car and caught his car keys in his pocket. You made him sit on the passenger seat, you were going to drive.

           During your way home, he was making jokes and disturbing you while you were driving, almost making you crash the car once. You parked the car in front of your building, you were too pissed to help Roger out of the car, well it was his own car, he could sleep there if he wanted to. You went back to your apartment and not much longer he knocked the door, you let him in. You remained in silence the whole time, you went to the bedroom and he went to the kitchen to get something to eat, and drink water.

           You were lying on bed, he jumped on the bed, making it creak.

           “(Y/N)…” he called you, hugging you.

           “What?” you answered roughly. He kissed your neck, his hand going further to grab your breast. You stood up, getting rid of him.

           “Not in the mood?” he asked, sitting on bed. “Come on, come back to bed, I promise I will make it good for you.” You knew it wouldn’t do anything if you yelled at him at this moment, he wasn’t himself, so it would worth nothing.

           “You’re going to sleep on the couch.” You said, and pushed him making him fell from the bed. He was so drunk that he laid on the floor and didn’t even move, he slept there the whole night.

           You had classes the next day so you completely ignored the sleeping Roger on your bedroom’s floor. When you arrived home at the afternoon he was still there, with an ‘I just woke up face’.

           “Hey love” he smiled at you when you arrived home, he was sitting on the couch and had a book in his hands. “I went home for a while, I just got back actually.” You just ignored him, heading to the kitchen to drink water. He followed you.

           “(Y/N), is everything ok?” you stared at him.

           “Roger, why didn’t you tell me that you were going out last night?”

           “You had classes, love. You couldn’t go.”

           “Couldn’t you have at least let me know? You called me in the middle of the night being drunk as asking for sex. I went to pick you up, you were a mess.”

           “Well, at least I didn’t have sex with anyone else.” That was his defense, you hate it; couldn’t he at least apologize for not letting you know? Or were you overreacting?

           “That is your answer?” you tried to keep it cool.

           “What you want me to say?”

           “Anything but ‘at least I didn’t have sex with anyone else” you mimicked him.

           “But that’s true!”

           “That’s not the point, Roger. I know that’s quite a big deal for you since you can’t keep your cock in your pants for more than a few days, but what I’m trying to say is that you didn’t let me know.”

           “Aren’t you overreacting a bit?” maybe you were but that made you even angrier.

           “That’s it, get out.” You said while kicking him out of your apartment.

           “Fine!” he said getting his coat and heading to the door.

           “Fine.” You shouted back, he had left, slamming the door.

             You didn’t talk for two days until he showed up to pick you up at school. You ignored him, but when he first saw you all he did were to apologize to you. He said sorry and kept calling himself ugly names. You agreed with them all. You two were in good terms again and things kept good for one more month, it was when your summer vacations started. Your time to study in London was done – you would have just three months left in the city, during vacations. Or you would go back to Bradford. Queen was going on tour soon again. The new relationship that had between you and Roger wasn’t strong enough to face the distance, especially with Queen on tour. Both of you liked each other very much, but weren’t in love. Maybe the time that Deaky said to enjoy was about to be over.

chapter fourteen

taglist:  @itsanarrum @theinvisible-men @schniiipsel @my-bitter-blue @butterfliesflewaway @taylorroger-s @ma-ntequilla @roger-taylor-owns-my-wigg @b-r-o-s-k-i @rogerjustroger @allhailthedeakydo @xxcxrolinexx @killerqueenisthebest @theimpossiblehologramtree @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @manurainbow @gwilymbrian @danamaleksworld

[kurokoros]

I’m apparently horrible at guessing how long scenes will be in this fic. I was like “oh yeah first scene will be like 2K max!” nope it’s 4K+. I’m expecting this first part to be like ~17K. 17K. For the first chapter. Which is supposed to be the short one.

I really don’t want it to be that long tbh, so I might cut some scenes from the main fic, but if anyone is interested, I can save them as outtakes! Obviously, any smut that doesn’t pertain to character development/plot is going to be cut first, and then scenes that don’t add as much. 

It’s going to be so hard to keep this trimmed down you guys, but I’m shooting for this chapter to be 15-17K and no longer because I actually want people to be able to sit down and read it lmao

If you’d like outtakes or would be perfectly fine with this fic being stupidly long, please let me know!