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sunflowerwinds · 1 year

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more than study buddies | h.c

summary: you’ve had a crush on hazel for yearsnow. after you get partnered with her in mr.g’s class, she asks you to come over to study for the final exam. tired of not being able to act on this crush, you turn to isabel for some help in seduction. you attempt a few of her tactics but it seems that hazel doesn’t really seem to be that interested. or so, you think until you’re straight it forward with how you feel.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature language, mature content, smut including — oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), hazel being an absolute teasing dom bc i said so, mrs.callahan almost catches reader and hazel but is saved by a locked door, reader does not know how to flirt to save their lives, isabel & josie being cuties and supportive of hazel and reader, no y/n!!!

a/n: i hope everyone enjoys. this is my first time ever writing about a sapphic character so i hope it meets expectations. thank you! :))

word count: 7K (i got extremely carried away)

You and Hazel shared Mr.G’s class. It didn’t take a genius to notice that Hazel was insanely attractive with her mullet rocker hair, insanely sharp cheekbones, and big blue eyes that had you blushing at just the thought. After being assigned partners for the ‘Death of Women in History’ section for Mr.G’s class, you two had got to talking more and more about each other.

First, that Mr.G’s class really made no sense a majority of the time and that you had no idea how he even got hired. Hazel agreed but pointed out that at least it was an easy class. Along with looking cool, Hazel just was so fucking cool. She knew taekwondo, how to build a bomb (you didn’t question why or how she knew how to do that) and how she blew up that douchebag Jeff’s car after cheating on Isabel, who had also become close friends throughout the year, with Hazel’s mom.

You were pretty sure that was extremely illegal but didn’t even have to comment on it to tell that it pissed and disgusted Hazel off beyond belief.

You were surprised to find out that she didn’t have a girlfriend nor had she ever had a girlfriend. This made you more hopeful for a chance with her. You gushed to Isabel as you had been doing all semester about Hazel once class ended.

“Oh my god, you are obsessed with her,” Isabel teased you as you walked down the halls. “You know, if you want, I could for sure give you some tips on how to hint to her that you wanna be more than just friends.”

This made your eyebrows raise in interest. You weren’t really the flirty type in any way. You were the type to repress your crush on someone for as long as you could until it eventually went away. Rejection clouded your confidence as soon as you even considered confessing to your past crushes.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you awkwardly chuckled, shrugging your shoulders. “I think we’re good now a-as friends.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you're jerking off to the thought of her?” Isabel deadpanned causing you to blush.

You whip your head around the halls to see if Hazel or if anyone associated with her was around. You would rather die than have her hear that.

“I told you that happened one time!” You sneered through a whisper at the freckled girl.

Isabel continued to just stare at you unamused at your lies. The two of you approached your locker and there across the way was Hazel wearing a cozy brown sweater and green pants with her low Doc Martens. She was talking to Josie about something you couldn’t quite make out from a distance. Just seeing her made those memories of the many nights you’ve happened to use her as some inspiration to get off.

Many, many nights.

“Okay, a lot more than once but shut up. She is right there.” You sneered at your friend, glancing at Hazel once more before opening your locker to place your textbooks for the day.

As you do, you notice Isabel raise her hands up in defense before ogling at her Josie.

“Now go and talk to your girlfriend. I can see you eye-fucking her from here.” You poke at her gorgeous head of hair with a gag as she hugs you quickly, reminding you to FaceTime her tonight so that you can work out exactly how you could seduce Hazel.

Isabel happily walks over and throws her arms around Josie’s neck to kiss her softly. Hazel visibly grimaced at how heavily the kiss progressed in such a short amount of time before removing herself from their space.

“Hazel, hey,” you call out with a grin, hoping you didn’t scare her.

Hazel sighed out of relief at the sight of you which, of course, made your smitten heart thump.

“Shit, I’m glad I caught you actually. Mr.G’s test is coming up in about a week and I was wondering if you wanted to start coming over to study for it,” Hazel proposed and you felt your throat close up.

“Like a…. study-date?” You question carefully.

Hazel shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Sure, yeah. So tomorrow after school? We can walk to my house.”

You blinked once, trying to process what you already agreed to. You nod with a deep inhale, a nervous smile that you hoped looked normal to your crush for years now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she reached forward to place a hand on your shoulder before walking away.

Your eyes followed her figure as you waited until she completely disappeared in the crowd of students leaving for activities and to go home. You inched forward to Josie and Isabel, lightly tapping on Isabel’s shoulder in a panic. Isabel audibly groaned and detached herself from Josie to look at whoever was tapping her but when she saw you, her face softened.

“What—“

“Hazel just invited me over tomorrow to study for Mr.G’s test. I don’t know what to do. What the fuck do I wear?” You express in a panic, messing with your middle finger ring as a sort of comfort.

Josie raised a finger up and shrugged. “Maybe study? I don't know…” Her voice faded out as her girlfriend then stared at her warningly.

“No, I am coming over tonight,” Isabel removed herself from Josie who just gaped at you and the honey haired woman. “FaceTime is not enough. Bring your best outfit ideas and I’ll help with seduction techniques because, no offense, but you really need it.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Josie interrupted with a grin already forming, “you like Hazel?”

You raised a fist to punch her shoulder and point at her. “Shut up, Josie.”

“Oh my god, babe, you seriously haven’t noticed? She’s jaw dropped and drools every time she’s around.”

“Okay, whatever, jesus. Yes, I do and I’m freaking out right now because I really like her and she’s so fucking hot and not only that, she’s actually a really nice person. God, I want her so bad.” You stress yourself out as you think about how tomorrow evening was going to go.

Isabel glanced at you with a grimace as she understood your struggle. She reached forward to pat your shoulder, not knowing how else to comfort you.

That same night, Isabel made her way over to your place to help you pick out an outfit. The two of you went through every single item in your closet. Isabel gave you one single tip on the clothing options for seduction; cleavage. It should’ve been a given in your eyes but being told it would for sure.

So, deep within the old, thrifted clothes, Isabel found something you completely forgot you had bought on a whim. She pulled out a soft pink cotton dress that was practically lingerie as the boob area was lined with lace.

“Isn’t that too dressy for a study date?” You proposed to Isabel.

“Definitely but it’ll make your tits look amazing.” Isabel emphasized, motioning to your chest.

Did your tits not look amazing on every other day?

So, the next afternoon after the last bell rang, you rushed to the bathroom to change into that said dress, quickly smoothing down the front to lessen the wrinkles from how you shoved it into your backpack. You glanced at your cleavage and Isabel was right about how great your tits looked.

They were a pretty average size but the lace and slight lift on the top area made your confidence rise a bit. Walking out of the bathroom, you spot Hazel leaning on your locker. A black and white zig-zag button up, a black opened vest on top with a medium wash of blue jean and a pair of creme white Converse.

Her chains shine very faintly against her neck which shouldn’t have driven you insane as it did.

You move yourself into her eye-line with a friendly, innocent grin. Hazel’s brows raised in your direction then furrowing at your obvious change in attire.

“Hey, you ready to go?” She asked with slight confusion in her tone.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you nod.

“Oh! I was able to get my mom’s car today so we don't have to walk for, like, half a fucking hour.”

The news caused you to internally sigh in relief. You were wearing Converse which weren’t exactly the most comfortable for walking miles. Plus, you didn’t want to try and seduce your way into Hazel’s heart.

The whole drive was quiet as you, in all honesty, completely forgot about every single thing that Isabel had told you to do. It’s not your fault that Hazel looked ridiculously attractive behind the wheel, driving with one hand gripping the wheel with the windows down.

It looked straight out of a fucking rom-com. You couldn’t help but gawk at the way the wind blew her rocker hair wildly, exposing her sharp cheekbones. The soft melody of a random radio station playing in the background really just made it full circle.

Maybe you could start here and compliment her.

“You look really nice driving,” you blurted out, wanting to vomit already at how fast and loud the words left your mouth.

Hazel’s face twitched in confusion for a moment, glancing over at you with a slight grin.

“Nice?” Her tone was teasing. “Thank you, I think?”

“Yeah, of course,” you nod, embarrassment flooding through your veins.

Yeah, you didn’t say anything else the rest of the drive to her house. Pulling up, you tug the ends of the skirt of your dress down so you don’t flash her. You peaked over at her as she put the car in park, checking her out as discreetly as you could.

Hazel walked around the front of the car to open the door for you as you reached for the handle, catching you off guard. You froze for a still second before flashing her a flirty smile.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that,” you inform Hazel who had an arm raised and rested on the opened door.

“You’re the guest.” Hazel shrugged with a small grin before adding on, “also, it’s jammed on the child’s lock for some reason so I have to open it from the outside.”

This made your expression falter but you attempted to hide it. You threw your backpack over your shoulder as you stepped out of the car. Hazel moves out of your way to motion towards the front door. Or doors, in Hazel's case.

The walk to Hazel’s room made your heart sink. The confidence that had been waving in and out of your system had fully disappeared into thin air. Hazel strides in front of you, turning a corner to the egg-white wooden door to her room. She opens the door and moves out of the way, again, to let you in first.

“Just make yourself comfortable.”

You haven’t been comfortable since you walked into the house. Hazel sets her backpack down on the ground next to her desks' swivel chair. As she turned around, you tugged the front of the dress down to reveal your cleavage more for her to notice.

This is where it had to begin.

Setting your bag down in the same area, you brushed your hair out of your way and leaned on the desk with one hand. You made sure to make your arm press into the side of her boob to accentuate the front of the dress. Hazel turned to find you there right behind her, eyes widening and blinking once out of surprise of how close in prolixity you had become.

Then, Isabel’s advice came echoing in your mind.

“Compliment the smell of her or her room. Or even both. I know I love when people let me know how good I smell.”

“Hey, you know your room smells really good. It smells like you,” you smile, looking her up and down and leaning in closer. “What is it?”

Her room did, in fact, smell like some sort of fragrance mixture of woody, mahogany, and sage with a hint of lavender. Hazel glanced around the room before her eyes landed right where you had been wanting her to look; right at your tits.

“Uh, thank you. I have no idea. Probably ‘mahogany teakwood’ or some shit like that.”

You nod, mentally noting that. Hazel, then, got out all of the material needed for Mr.G’s class. Shit, you haven't even packed a notebook. Isabel gave you the confidence to assure you that something was going to happen.

Fuck.

Hazel was already getting out different colored pens and pencils, laying them out on her desk. You pretend to look through your bag, faking a sigh and groan as you continue your act.

“Damn it,” you muttered.

Hazel was quick to notice your frantic rummaging before asking, “what’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot to get my notebook so I can’t really study. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re fine,” Hazel reassured, a kind smile on her face. You hated how much it made your head spin. “Here— shit,” she dropped her notebook while handing it to you. The clumsiness made you smile; not making fun but in admiration of how cute she was.

Isabel was painfully right. You were obsessed with everything about her, it was concerning sometimes.

“I got it. Thank you,” you tell her as you bend forward to pick up the notebook from the ground, looking up at her from the ground.

Hazel’s eyes find themselves locked on your cleavage again. She nodded, clearing her throat and twiddling a pencil around her fingers skillfully.

“Yeah, of course.” Hazel smacks her tongue against her teeth. “We should probably… get to it though.”

You nod to yourself, clutching the notebook in a way that has the metal spiral digging into your palm. How were you going to seduce her when she actually wants to study?

“Right, yeah,” you respond, glancing over at her made bed. A thought filled your brain as you pointed to the bed. “Hey, is it okay if we get on the bed? It’ll probably be more comfortable that way.”

Hazel glanced at her bed then at you before nodding without hesitation. “Sure, yeah.”

The tension in the air was indescribable. When you were studying by yourself in your own room, you were usually blasting music on your speaker or in your headphones to the point of everything else around you becoming insignificant. There was complete silence in the room which made you even more nervous to be with Hazel in her room.

The two of you then sit on the bed; Hazel prying off her shoes to sit criss-cross on the bed and you lie down in front of her, one arm holding up your head and the other writing down mindlessly. Hazel actually seemed to be writing and studying while you were just scribbling your name down in different fonts. She had no idea how much you had been zoned out and bored.

That is until after half an hour of ‘studying’, Hazel asked you a question about a topic she was writing about.

“Oh, uh,” you look down at the paper and then back at her.

She was staring at you, waiting patiently for some sort of answer but she glanced at your graphite covered paper to see what you had been doing this entire time you had been here. Embarrassment begins to flood your system as you meet her gaze.

“Have you been writing your name over and over again?”

“Yeah…” You trailed off, having no defense whatsoever. You were bored, on the verge of giving up seducing Hazel. Might as well just tell her the truth. “I’m sorry, Hazel. I… never wanted to really study.”

Hazel chuckled and nodded her head towards the scribbled piece of paper. “Yeah, I noticed but why’d you say yes then? Did you wanna just… hangout or something?”

As you were about to open your mouth to ramble out some stupid love confession, Isabel’s voice echoed in your head.

“If you can’t do the subtle, seductive route, be honest about what you want. Some people hate it when they dance around what they really want to say or do. Be direct.”

You sucked in a deep breath, sitting up so that you were sitting across from Hazel with one leg hanging off of the bed. Your socked foot accidentally nudged her pant leg as you straightened out your back, making sure to keep eye contact with her.

“I want you, Hazel.” You kept your voice clear and lowered a bit to let her know that it was in fact in a sexual manner.

Hazel’s face dropped and you were already conjuring up an ‘it was a joke’ or ‘I’m just messing with you’ until she tilted her head with a smile.

“In a sexual and romantic way,” you emphasized with a grin.

“Is that why you changed into a dress after class?” Her tone was in its usual teasing way.

“What do you mean? I was wearing this all day.” You lied straight through your teeth but your grin gave away that you were being sarcastic.

Hazel just shook her head at you, muttering something under the lines of ‘such a tease’ as she leaned forward to press her lips onto yours. You blushed at both her words and how quick she was to kiss you. Her lips felt gentle and smooth against your own.

You inhaled and picked up a rhythm as she cradled the back of your neck with her hands. You were a bit intimidated by how experienced she was with her movements even though she had told you that she had none. Not that you were calling her a liar but she felt so fucking good.

Your hands awkwardly sat on your lap, not knowing where else to place them. This position made your lower back ache and not in a good way. You pull away from her slick lips, sucking in a deep breath.

“Can I,” you begin but hesitate for a moment. “Can we change positions? I’m sorry. My back is aching.”

You both softly chuckle at your question but it didn’t feel awkward. No, it felt more comfortable than anything. In fact, she shoved all of her school notebooks and pens on the ground with a cheeky grin.

“You can sit on my lap, c’mere.” Hazel scooched up further on the bed so that she was resting with her back against the bed frame, her legs straight out.

You blushed at the sight of her slightly slick and red lips and flushed cheeks. You forced yourself to follow forward and straddle Hazel’s legs. Her hands immediately found your waist, thumbs rubbing at the skin through the fabric.

“I’m not too heavy, right? Like it doesn’t hurt your legs?” You ask softly, placing your hands on Hazel’s shoulders.

“No, no. Trust me, this feels really good.” Hazel makes her point by running her palms up and down your sides than to squeeze at your thighs.

Your skin heats up as you feel her rings indenting into it with her soft grip. To hide your blush, you pull her into another passionate kiss. Your hands find her neck while she holds your waist, slightly rocking them forward. You let out a noise of pleasure as you feel her tongue swipe past your bottom lip.

Hazel began to smile against your lips after the noise left your mouth and she pulled away to then kiss at the skin underneath your jaw. You hum at the feeling of her lips sucking and biting at the skin. The room’s atmosphere was filled with the two of you letting out the gentlest of sensual sounds to egg each other on.

“Hazel,” you whine, rolling your hips into hers desperately.

Hazel detached herself from your neck to glance down at the way you were moving against her. She pecked at your cheek, placing her hands on your hips encouragingly. You noticed this glint in her eye and it was clear to you that she was turned on by how you were trying to get off on her.

“There you go. Just like that. That feels good, yeah?” Her tone raising a little with that stupid fucking smirk on her face.

“Please touch me.” You begged, a wave of desperation falling over you.

Hazel shook her head, obviously taunting your aroused state. “I think you’re doing good right now, pretty girl. Look at you, fuck.”

“Please,” you whispered, leaning forward to capture her lips onto hers.

Hazel pulled away to instead kiss right above your left boob, looking at you through her eyes to make sure you were okay with what she was doing. A slight nod was all Hazel needed to continue her journey down. She uses one hand to move the straps of the delicate dress off your shoulders.

You watch her tug down the top area of the dress to expose your bare chest. You try not to make it known how nervous you were for this. No one has ever seen this part of you and Hazel meant a lot to you in so many ways already. She gently takes them into her palms, a shiver running down your spine at the contact of her cool rings.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Hazel hummed, now looking into your eyes.

It sounded so sincere and kind, you could shed a tear.

“Perfect?” You tilt your head to the side, no humor behind it. There was genuine curiosity if she meant it.

“Yeah, you are,” she pecks your lips once before placing another peck to the top of your tits. “I’m not just saying that because your boobs are in my face, by the way.”

This causes a soft laugh to erupt from your chest, leaning forward to rest your forehead on her shoulder. Her hands rub up and down your back soothingly as she chuckles along with you.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You remove yourself from the comfort of her neck, pushing your hair out of your face.

“It’s okay. I just wanted to let you know that. Make you comfortable.” Hazel held your waist, looking between both of your eyes then your lips.

“I am. I just am really turned on right now.” You take your lip in between your teeth, adjusting yourself to grind once again on her lap.

Hazel took the hint and took one of your nipples in between her lips, sucking and licking on the bud. You gasp softly at the feeling, pushing your chest forward into the warmth of her mouth. You took one hand to brush her hair out of her face, moaning softly.

You were panting at the overwhelming feeling of her lips sucking and kissing at both of your tits and her hands gripping hungrily at your waist. It felt like so much but not enough all at once. You just wanted to be engulfed by this feeling; of Hazel.

“Can I go down on you?” Hazel asks softly, pulling away from your sensitive bud.

Your eyes widened at her words and tried to get out of your lustful haze. Your head felt clouded and not able to focus on anything other than this erotic feeling.

“I—Yeah. You really wanna?” You reply, a wave of both excitement and nerves flooding through your body.

“I really want to. If you’re not comfortable, though, that’s completely okay.” Hazel reassured you, kissing you gently on the lips. “We can keep doing this because trust me, this is really good too.”

You can’t help the smitten smile that spreads onto your lips. You hated how much you loved the bare minimum treatment she was giving you.

“No, I want to. I just— how do you want me?” You stare at her, waiting patiently.

Hazel bit her lip as she thought for a mere second before glancing to the empty space next to her. Hazel cupped your face once again to place a soft kiss to your lips. When she pulled away, you were quick to chase after the addicting taste of her. She pulled back with a teasing grin, moving her hands down to squeeze at your ass once.

“I’m gonna go and lock the door. Lay down for me, okay?”

For me. Fuck, she wanted to send you into cardiac arrest.

You nod and remove yourself from Hazel’s lap to sit down on the mattress. You could feel the wet patch on your underwear now that you were distracted by how your crush for years was sucking on your tits. Hazel rushed to lock the door, pushing her hair out of her face.

When Hazel locked her eyes on your figure on the bed, she sucked in a deep breath as if she was trying to keep her composure. She removed her open vest and her button up so that she was left in her white wife-pleaser and a black sports bra.

You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second in anticipation.

“You are so gorgeous,” Hazel tells you as she approaches the bed once again.

She crawls in between your open legs so that you are face-to-face. You answer by pressing your lips to hers. You crossed your arms around her neck to tug her more onto your body. Hazel moved her lips against yours, moving a hand from your neck to the skirt portion of the dress. She lifted it up so that it was resting around your stomach area to expose your black lace underwear you had worn for this.

Hazel hooked one finger underneath the waistband of the panties to snap it against your soft hips. You gasped at the feeling, in both pleasure and shock. Hazel pushes up on her arms to move down your body. She presses wet and attentive kisses down your chest and makes her way down to the plush of your stomach.

You sucked in out of habit so that you hoped you would appear thinner. You didn’t even realize earlier how exposed you were going to be. Hazel did take notice of the sudden tense feeling on your stomach as she kissed right above the waistband of your underwear.

“Hey, you gotta relax for me, okay?” Hazel mutters to you, hands kneeling into your soft thighs.

You sit up on your forearms to look Hazel in the eyes. “Sorry. I’ve never had anyone down there. I’m sorry if I look bloated or smell down there or—”

“Hey, it's okay. It’s okay. You look beautiful, okay? And as for the smell, its not supposed to smell like fucking vanilla or flowers. Men made that shit a standard because they’re fucking idiots.” Hazel’s words really set in your head as you tried to push away all the negative and harmful words that were telling you weren’t skinny or pretty enough to be doing this with her. “If I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t be.”

You nod slowly, watching as Hazel places feather-soft kisses onto your inner thighs. She was so attentive to every single sensitive part of your lower region. She kisses right over that wet spot on your underwear before taking the waistband of your underwear and tugging them down. She flings them somewhere in the corner of her room.

You want to close your legs out of instinct but you hold them open. Hazel leans down onto your pussy, placing a soft kiss onto your clit. Your hips shift at the feeling but you try to keep your composure. She looks up at you as she licks one stripe through your folds.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan softly, chasing her tongue for more.

Hazel continued to move her tongue through your slick folds, her hands gripping onto your thighs to hold you there. Your breathing was heavy and a slight layer of sweat began to form on your hairline and your lower back. The obscene sounds coming from your pussy only encouraged Hazel to pick up her movements.

You ran a hand through her hair as you felt it tickle at your inner thigh. Her eyes locked with yours as she sucked at your clit, waiting for pretty sounds to leave your lips. You whine and rock your hips against her mouth.

“You taste so good, baby,” she breathes against your slick folds. “So fucking good.”

The praise went straight to your core, your naked chest rising and falling as you were overwhelmed by her grip on you and her tongue hungrily moving through your folds. You tried to squirm away as you felt that familiar feeling in your lower abdomen.

Hazel wasn’t letting that happen, though. She slipped her pointer finger into your entrance slowly, lifting her head up to watch your reaction to this new feeling. You nodded at the feeling of something inside of you, jaw dropped as you didn’t realize she had kept her rings on. Feeling incredibly pathetic and needy as you clenched around her finger, you rocked your hips down as if that would make the pleasure increase.

“That feel good, pretty girl?” Hazel’s voice breathy in arousal, pumping her finger with one hand and keeping a tight grip onto your thigh to hold you open.

“More, please. Haze, I need to cum, please,” you begged, not even responding to her question.

Your mind was too clouded with the endorphins releasing from how good she was making you feel. Your hips kept grinding against her, feeling so out of your normal state of mind. Your lips were kiss-swollen and hair was beginning to frizz from the beads of sweat that were forming at your hairline.

“You look beautiful like this. All fucked out for me, honey.” Hazel did as you had begged for, her pointer and middle fingers were now pumping inside of you.

Her hair, too, was frizzing up beautifully from the humid air that had been filling the room. Her chest and cheeks had a gorgeous pink hue to the pale skin from the lust. Her lips and chin were coated with your arousal. How could she be complimenting you when she looked like she came straight out of porno magazine?

“Really? I’m the beautiful one when you look how,” you pant in disbelief, “you do? Fuck, Haze.”

In response to this flirtation, Hazel adjusted so that she was face-to face with you once again and pressed her lips to yours. You moan softly against her at the taste of your own slick on her swollen lips. Hazel’s fingers curled into you to hear those moans that she could have on repeat if it was possible. You pulled away to keep your lips ghosting over one another to breathe heavy moans into your mouths.

“How do I look, hmm?” She taunted, her eyes flickering all around the features of your face.

You whine, trying to kiss Hazel again to avoid answering. She just pulled back, curling her fingers against your g-spot teasingly to purposely drive you insane. You were so fucking close and she’s asking you this now?

And as if things couldn’t go more awry, you hear a rather loud knock on the door.

“Hazel! Is everything alright in there?”

Hazel’s movements freeze for a moment as the realization sets in that her mom is just on the other side of the door. You glance at the door than at Hazel who was heavily breathing along with you.

“Yeah, mom, why? I’m just doing…” Hazel glances at you and smirks for a moment. You roll your eyes as you know she wanted to say your name as a joke. “Homework. Just studying right now.”

Waiting for a response from her mother, Hazel resumed the thrusts of her fingers. She even picked up the pace of her thrusts and you knew it was because of this thrill of almost getting caught. Fuck, and it really wasn’t helping your attraction to her.

You scrunched up your brows at the pressure building in your abdomen as you force the moans itching at your throat back. Hazel had this lustful glint in her eye as she watched your hips sputter as she knew you were so close to cumming. She could feel how much you were clenching and hear the soft ‘please’ and her name falling from your lips.

“Okay, well, I swore I heard someone else in there. Is there someone else in there?”

You almost felt bad for Mrs. Callahan as you were getting finger-fucked by her daughter while she was just on the other side of the door. Almost.

Okay, you didn’t give a fuck.

“Yeah, a friend. She’s helping me study for Mr.G’s final exam.” Hazel borderline shouts back before leaning down to kiss at the underside of your jaw.

“You’re doing so good for me. You’re gonna cum, pretty girl?” You nod, eyes watering from how good she felt and not trusting yourself to speak at the moment. You were whispering and begging for her to make you cum, the build-up becoming overwhelming.

“Did you guys want anything to eat? I can go and get some pizza?”

“Yeah, mom. Sounds good. Pepperoni is great. Okay, love you. Bye.” Hazel rushes out her words.

You reach your hand down to rub at your sensitive clit as Hazel pumps her fingers harder. Hazel moves your hand away to replace your hand with her own, wanting to make you cum on her own. You let out a shaky moan, a string of ‘please’ leaving your lips.

Your hand reaches down in between your legs to grip onto her wrists, trying to push her hands away from the overstimulation. Your back arches and chases the feeling over how hard you were cumming. Your thighs tried to clamp her hands still but she didn’t stop whatsoever, wanting your cum to lather her fingers.

“Haze, please, please. Fuck, right there.” You beg through dry sobs, cumming quicker than you could comprehend.

Your head went numb and your body went weak as shivers ran down your spine. Hazel watched as your hips eagerly chased the high, stuttering as you were slowly coming down from the orgasm.

“There you go, baby. Just breathe. You did so good. So, so good, yeah.” Hazel leaned down to kiss your soft lower stomach, slowly removing her fingers from your cunt.

Hazel refrained from groaning at the sight of your climax dripping out and lathering her fingers and rings. Her main focus was taking care of you right now.

“I need a nap,” you huffed as you raised an arm to cover your forehead.

Hazel chuckled softly, leaning down to place sweet and gentle kisses to your cheeks and then lips. “How about you pee for now and then we could take a nap? I don’t want you to get a UTI or something.”

You nod, agreeing with her. You take a deep breath in and out as you sit up slowly. Hazel watched you carefully as she continued to caress your sides and thighs.

“You have a private bathroom right?” You wonder as you stare at the door you entered from.

If Hazel’s mom was still home, you couldn’t fathom having to interact with her after what had just happened in this room.

“Yeah, it's right next to the closet over there.” Hazel jerked her head to a door that looked identical to the entrance to her room.

You nod as you should’ve seen that earlier. A sudden silence fell over the two of you; almost tense. Do you kiss her? Do you hug her? Do you ‘thank her’? No, thanking her would be so fucking weird.

Just get up and pee, you freak, jesus.

Hazel watched you move your straps back onto your shoulders and covered your tits that she wished she had spent more time on. You get up from the bed, turning your head to flash her a gentle smile, muttering that you would be right back.

“I’ll be here.” Hazel grins, pointing to her bed.

You open the bathroom door with a soft blush, shutting the door behind you. You locked eyes with your reflection and raised a hand to cover your mouth in shock. Your mascara was smudged under your eyes and your lips were a bit puffy and red. And god, your hair was a mess.

You looked fucked out.

You were fucked out.

A part of you wanted to take a photo and send it to Isabel to show her it worked a lot better than you thought it would go. You shook your head and quickly used the bathroom, washing your hands. You dry them off on a towel, trying to keep your composure from flashes of what had just happened.

You adjust the skirt and top to your dress, wiping underneath your eyes to smoothen out the black mascara. You swing open the door to see Hazel sitting on her bed on her phone. She looked up as she noticed the bathroom light turn off and how you were standing silently to yourself.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” She turned her phone off and tossed it to the side, her eyes trailing up and down your body.

“Mhmm. Yeah, just tired, honestly,” you reassure her as you sit down next to her on the mattress.

“Do you want to take that nap now?” Hazel smiled kindly, turning her head to look at the head pillows.

You couldn’t help but smile at her too. Why did she have to be so attentive? Not that you were complaining but god, you couldn’t believe she was even real.

“Maybe not nap but I wanna lay with you, if that’s okay?” Your tone was hesitant as you didn’t know what you guys were going to be after this.

“Like cuddle?” Hazel’s tone was hopeful and kind.

You nod and the next thing you know, Hazel is holding you close with your legs intertwined. One of your hands was on her chest, twiddling with her necklaces while Hazel’s hands were rubbing up and down your back. In the midst of the domestic silence, you pressed gentle kisses onto her neck and she reciprocated the pecks onto your temple.

You could stay here forever.

“Hey Haze?” You murmur onto her skin, watching goosebumps rise to her skin.

Hazel hummed in response.

“Are we, like, dating now?” You avoid looking her in the eye, anxiety clouding your thoughts.

“I have to take you on an actual date but yeah, I want to be.” Hazel shrugged her shoulders, acting cool about it but you could pick up by her tone that she was being genuine.

You purse your lips to hold back the giddy smile, snuggling further into her chest. Hazel cupped the side of your face, pressing her thumb underneath your jaw to tilt your head up and capture your lips into a gentle kiss.

After inhaling the pizza that Mrs. Callahan had bought for you guys, you impulsively decided to spend the night. You and Hazel lazily made out and whispered in the late of the night tangled in her sheets.

The next morning at school, you and Hazel walked in side by side. Your pinkies were just barely brushing against each other and you were wearing one of Hazel’s sweaters with your jeans from before you changed into your seduction dress.

Isabel was waiting by your locker to hear all the details as you refused to text her last night after what had happened. She was talking to Josie, smiling as she listened attentively to whatever her girlfriend was telling her about.

You look at Hazel with a soft smile as you approach Isabel and Josie.

“Ignore how they will act when she sees us together,” you warn Hazel quietly.

Hazel nods, making eye contact with Josie who was already sporting a knowing grin. You deeply inhale as you stop in front of the couple.

“Morning guys.” You politely say, sending Isabel a warning glare.

Her eyes were locked on Hazel behind you, a smile forming on her freckled face. Josie and Isabel both mutter ‘mornings’ back, eyes never leaving Hazel who just stared back with a tight-lipped grin.

“So, you two are coming to school together? How exciting.” Josie bit her lip cheekily as she rocked side to side, the smile never leaving her face.

“Well, you know, I hate polluting the air so saving the environment by just riding together,” you turn around to face Josie, tilting your head with a smile.

Isabel nodded. “Right, so how was that study session guys?”

You and Hazel locked eyes with flushed cheeks as you could still feel her lips on your body. She left a permanent mark on your psyche. Hazel looked down with a smirk, shrugging her shoulders to play it off as if it was a minor occurrence.

“Actually, it was very informative. Exploring lots of new things about women,” Hazel glanced over at you then at Josie and Isabel with a confident grin.

Your eyes widened for a moment, nodding along to her words. You glance at Hazel, wanting to kick her in the shin but you just continue to add on the conversation.

“Yup. Ladies learning about ladies. I love feminism.” You give them a thumbs up.

Isabel’s eyes squinted as she glanced between you and Hazel. Before she could add on another comment that would make you feel even more tense, the bell rang for your first period.

“Shit, I gotta go. I forgot my first period is on the other side of the school.” Hazel rushed out, tightening and adjusting her grip on her bag.

“Oh, I’ll see you later, okay?” You turn to her with a small smile.

You tried not to sound too clingy as you were already missing her presence. Hazel reciprocated the smile before leaning in to connect your lips into a soft kiss. You close your eyes and almost forget where you guys were until you heard a soft ‘oh my god’ that came from Josie.

“Try not to miss me too much, baby,” she mutters against your lips.

You nod, feeling like your brain was short-circuiting. When Hazel pulled away, she turned to the other pair, raising a hand to wave them bye.

“I’ll see you guys.” Hazel walks away with a confident pep in her step as she rounds the corner of the hallway.

Yeah, you were done for. Thank God for Mr.G’s class.

taglist: @ptolemaeacles <33 for you

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #bottoms movie #sapphic #wlw #hazel is cocky as fuck

2K notes · View notes

beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year

Text

Goodbye, Fourth of July (18+)

pairing: lee chan x fem!reader

genre: college au, best friends to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), hints of crack?

description: it's the fourth of july when you realize you're in love with your best friend. unfortunately though, it seems that he doesnt love you back, and this knowledge sends you spiraling. you push him away, but chan just wants to know why you're so upset

warnings: v v sad, pining, brief mention of s/a, chan is kinda dumb in this fr, reader is dramatic af tho, unprotected sex, desperation, praise kink, finger sucking, titty sucking, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, sweet heart, good girl, cumslut once), mentions of alcohol and weed, irene is chans gf in this but shes not a villain shes mother fr

quotes from my proofreader: "my soul left my body", "no this is too personal", "i feel like im having a panic attack"

wordcount: 8.2k

Fireworks exploded across the sky the night your life was ruined.

Down the gray, dim corridors of your campus where room after room was ablaze with idle lights, daring to imitate the stars above them. Every crevice of the left wing was filled with the noise and decorum of a college frat party, where people lived out their own lives simultaneously to yours - yours, that was shattering into millions of pieces onto Yoon Jeonghan’s kitchen floor. Every moment of teasing, of lingering touches, of adoring smiles, of secret memories and exchanged glances came hurdling onto you on the 4th of July, red solo cup long forgotten in your hand. You were in love with your best friend.

“I’m in love with Chan,” you whispered, looking blankly across the room to see him leaned back against the couch, flashing a bright smile at Mingyu beside him. His blonde mullet - the one, that he had been so terrified to get, and only did so, when you told him he would look great - was tousled and spiky across his neck. He was wearing a red bomber jacket over a white tee, and he looked so good you thought you might cry.

Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard your confession - was it a confession? Admittance? Defeat? - had he not been standing right beside you. He thanked God that your words were not lost to the music and to the ambiance, to lay and die in the sticky, hardwood floor. “What?!”

He was yelling over the music. You turned over to him, mouth cracked into a frown. “What?! You’re in love with Chan?! Seriously?!” He started bouncing and giggling, ignoring your hands coming to grab onto his forearms. He had predicted this exactly five months ago.

“Shut up, Soonyoung, seriously!” You were yelling too, barely overcoming the booming voice of Kesha on the speakers. Bathed in pink light, letting your nails trail over the kitchen counter, you felt your heart becoming soft and trembling.

Your life was ruined.

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” you cried, feeling Soonyoung spin you at your shoulders until he was right in front of you, alcohol dampening the air between you.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna confess to him. You guys are literally in love with each other” He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been best friends since freshman year; as if you didn’t know his favorite animal cracker shape and the exact model of his everyday sneakers.

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can?”

“COMINGGG THROUGHHHHHHHH!” Frat-house dork Seokmin pushed between you and Soonyoung with a sky-high Vernon on his trail. Vernon shimmied apologetically, eyes sunken and red. “Getting cross-faded,” he supplied helpfully.

“As you should,” Soonyoung mumbled, slightly peeved in his tone, but Seokmin and Vernon seemed too intensely high to notice his disdain. You were too floaty to be offended by their sudden intrusion. The party, the floor, the music, the stench of sweat had become distant and you felt very alone with your heart. And Kwon Soonyoung, of course.

“You can! Right now! I’ve been telling you for months!” He shook you by your shoulders, apparently sensing your distance. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, tugging at the strapless end of your short, glittery dress. “But he’s-” you inhaled sharply. “He’s not gonna love me back, Soon.” Soonyoung cut you off with a scoff. “He’s so in love with you! He looks at you like you’re the only girl in the…”

Soonyoung trailed off, eyes peering past you into the crowd. “Oh shit,” His eyes widened, settled on you, then flicked back up. What the fuck was he looking at? “Uh, as I was-” you moved to look, struggling against his suddenly deadly grip on your shoulders “- no, don’t look!” He moved to stop you, but it was too late. You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes, finding yourself confused as to what he’d been crying about. That is until you saw him. Red bomber now discarded, Chan had removed himself from the couch and was currently grinding on your biochem-classmate, Irene.

Oh. Okay.

You felt like cold hands grabbed onto your throat from within, as it contracted and tears stung your eyes. There it went, your heart and all its pieces on the floor, and weighing you down like an anchor, was the knowledge that you’d spend the rest of your life picking them up.

”God fucking damnit. This is awful, I’m awful,” your head was spinning, and you could barely make out how your fishnetted legs started moving, let alone how the tips of Soonyoung’s fingers brushed against your bare back to pull you back to him. You needed to get out. Out, out, out.

You squeezed through the tight crowd, avoiding the gaze of your classmate Seungcheol, who tried to smile at you from where he stood. This had to be some sort of mistake. Some sort of illusion brought upon you by the rhythmic movements and the loose slip of alcohol. Maybe you were hormonal? You didn’t know, but you couldn’t think while some bass-boosted playlist built dams of pressure on the sides of your head.

You finally squeezed through the door, closing it behind you and locking away that cursed, wretched memory. The further you got, the fainter the image of him. By the time you were slipping out of the hallway and into the yard, you could almost convince yourself that it was a mistake. A foolish moment, that you would tuck away and keep in a locked chest.

God, you were cold, shivering in your scrappy fabrics, as you slid down the brick wall by a flower bed, staring into the sky. It was the fourth of July, and your chest had exploded in fireworks while looking at your best friend. Every line had simultaneously been crossed and uncrossed.

You had realized it just a few minutes ago, just standing in the kitchen, when Wonwoo from history had asked you for a lighter. It had just been a graze, but you’d still felt it, in the faraway reaches of your purse. Amongst crumbs, concealer, a couple unraveled cigarettes and wired earphones with only one working side. What was that? You’d handed Wonwoo the lighter and then dug around for it again. A little slip of paper, edges soft and worn. You pulled it up.

It was just a drawing. A little scribbled dinosaur. God, you couldn’t even remember when he’d given it to you. But there you were smiling at it. And then looking at him. And then you knew.

You started crying. Hot, fat tears dripped down your cheeks, and your lips were trembling, and suddenly your body was stuttering and convulsing against the wall, and you were in love with your best friend and he was obviously not in love with you.

“Y/n?”

You snapped your head towards the door and the person you wanted to see the least in that moment (that thought made you cry even more, because when had you ever wanted anyone but him by your side when you were upset?) was peeking his blonde haired head through the door. Chan had such a heavy frown, looking down at you from the wide opened doorway.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was immediately crouching down, hand burning hot on your back, stroking the muscles. Another hand on your knee and it was all too much, so you pushed him away. He backed off immediately, and you wished you missed the flash of hurt on his face. He looked at you with so much worry. “What happened?”

He was sitting across from you on the pavement and you couldn’t bear to see him, lit geometrically by the moonlight and the explosions in the sky, brows creased. Averting your eyes, you fiddled with the edge of your dress and sniffled. What were you supposed to say? It was hard to say anything. You fought down the tears pressing at your eyes again, swallowing your emotions before you looked at him again, almost robotically.

“I’m fine,” you said, nodding, and only adding more when his face twisted in confusion. You were always honest with each other, he thought, why were you lying? “It’s stupid, I’m.. I’m on my period and my hormones are just.. Bleugh.” You found it in yourself to giggle.

Silence, only decorated with the constant stream of fireworks and distant laughter of drunk college kids. Chan studied you for a moment, legs crossed and arms slung over his knees. “Cheol said you looked upset.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was thinking of that sad dog movie.”

Another pause. “Old Yeller.”

The distance between you had never felt wider and you were certain Chan could feel it too.

“You know you can tell me anything right?” You wished your laughter hadn’t been so heart-achingly bitter. He looked so confused. All he wanted to do was make you feel alright, why wouldn’t you let him?

A nod. “Yeah,” you breathed in deeply, tear-streaked makeup drying from the gentle wind. “I know.”

The air had become so thick, you had to gulp down breaths. Chan cocked his head to the side and looked at you soulfully. You were staring at your knees, nervously playing with your fingers, and a flush had crept up your neck to the very tops of your shiny cheeks. He sighed. “I can get, uh,” he hesitated for a moment, “I can get Soonyoung down here. If you want.” You nodded before he was even done talking. Anything was better than sitting across from him - not now. This time you knew better than to look at his face, because you knew your entire facade would break down the moment you’d catch the frown on his face at those words.

The moment Chan left, you sighed so deeply, relief and despair coming in a pair to crash over you like a wave. Soonyoung came not two minutes later and, ever the great comforter, immediately tried to make you laugh, sitting in the grass right in front of you.

“Oh my god,” he put on his best Jennifer Coolidge voice, “you look like the fourth of July!” _____________________________

Your first instinct was to hide - to turn over a stone and lay under it without breathing. Maybe then, if you separated yourself from him the feelings would simply dissipate, like perfume throughout the day. But you and Chan had a ridiculous amount of classes together, - something you used to enjoy and cherish - and every interaction had become half-awkward.

What also didn’t help is that him and Irene did not seem to just be a party fling. You were walking the halls with him, backpack slung across your shoulder, and listening to him drone on and on about a date.

“I think it’s the blonde,” he explained, “I think she likes the blond.” He peeked his eyes over to you, as you walked and you nodded. “It looks good,” you smiled, heart crushing when his face lit up, that sharky smile playing on his lips. “Right? But I don’t know what to wear. I don’t think she liked my jacket. You know, at the party.” At the mention of the party, his giddy expression faded a little, eyes flicking back to look at you again.

You’d been different since then. A little quiet and every word a little strained, every breath a huff, every smile somewhat unable to reach your eyes. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. For the life of him, Chan couldn’t. You’d told him when you got a tampon stuck a couple months ago, you’d told him about your awful dates, about your most embarrassing moments in your life. Something had to be serious, he thought, watching the way your eyes had become darker and sunken, for you to shut him out completely.

“Y/n,” he said and his voice was abruptly so, so soft. His hand came to cradle your own, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyebrows cinched together when you looked at the way his thumb caressed your knuckles. “You are okay, right?” and all of a sudden he was so close to you, head bopping downwards to catch your eyes, a little breath becoming humid on your cheek. For just a split second, he saw how scared you were, an emotion that took up all the space in your head, widened eyes darting up to his. Then it was gone. You smiled a tight line, ripping your hand from his. “I’m good. I’d be better if we actually made it to class on time.”

You were bouncing away and for a few moments he stood still, watching you.

“Alright,” he whispered to himself.

_____________________________

You and Chan met through Seungcheol. It was your first year and you were fresh-faced, young and a totally different person. It was your first biochem project and the teacher had paired you with Seungcheol - Seungcheol, who you just so happened to know was amongst the most popular guys at school. He was sweet though, if not a little slow, but he was excited to get into the project and had invited you to his place to study. You had graciously accepted, seeing as your roommate-situation at the time was less than ideal.

You had just hunkered down with stacks of books and laptops open on his desk, when Seungcheol got a call; to this day you’re not sure about the specifics of it, and all the information you’d later been able to pry from Seungcheol was that “Jeonghan was in trouble”. Whatever the case, the man had taken the phone and immediately taken on a crease in his forehead and a small frown on his lips, before apologizing profusely and promising that he’d be back in 20 minutes or so.

And there you were, wearing a dress and hairclips and sitting idly at his desk, while his roommate sat, just a few feet from you, on his bed with a controller and a headset on. That was the first time you saw Lee Chan. He had sharp eyes that you found intimidating at the time - especially with the focused grimace he wore, something you later found endearing. And, of course, you knew he was popular as well. How couldn’t he be, when his muscles were showing through his t-shirt, and he looked beautiful even in the domestic state you found him in. Maybe especially in that situation.

“D’you wanna see me play?” he’d asked, eyes not even leaving the screen. “Um,” your voice was meek, “sure.”

Seungcheol didn’t come home for another three hours. The sky turned from a bright blue into an orange hue outside the campus-curtains, and you sat cross-legged beside Chan on his bed, watching him play Overwatch. Had it been anyone else, you were sure this would’ve been the longest, most awkward three hours of your life. But for whatever reason, you and Chan just clicked. It was all laughter and smiles, and it felt like you had known each other forever. Fate had whisked the two of you together with a gentle push. That was two years ago.

Chan defied all your expectations. Surely, a young man who was attractive and popular would be an asshole, you’d thought, but he was so sweet, something that was most apparent when he smiled and laughed, eyes becoming crescents and toothy grin becoming sharp at the upturned edges.

Maybe you’d always liked him. You’d started reflecting on your relationship after that party, and came to realize that there’d always been a faint mist in your chest. A soft hum that drummed within your ribcage, when you saw him. It was warm, pleasant and constant when you felt his warmth at your side.

And sure, your relationship had had its moments. You distinctly remembered sitting between his legs while watching a movie once, and how you’d been so uncertain if he was okay with the skinship. His face behind your ear, you heard the smile in his voice, as his hands ran along your arms: “It’s okay, N/n. I’m cool with this if you are.”

You found yourself thinking about that often, but now there was a distinct pain to the memory. It was especially painful, when the gap between you and Chan was widening with every day. He tried to reach out, tried to catch you in the halls, but you were always “busy”.

Chan caught on to the fact that you were avoiding him when you started showing up late to classes, just so you wouldn’t have to walk with him; hear him talk about Irene, while that once soft drum had become a marching band in your chest. So you scrambled inside 5 minutes late, much to the dismay of your professors, and found a spot with some random classmate - far away from Chan. You’d have your eyes turned to the board, but you couldn’t focus, not really. Like a constant thorn in your side, you felt Chan’s sharp eyes across the room, boring into with such an intensity you thought you might catch on fire. Scribbling useless notes and focusing your energy - what little energy you had - on the class, you determinedly avoid his eyes. Had you seen them, never once darting astray from your form, you’d see the tenderness they held. “Why are you avoiding me?” His eyes said.

And then: “Why are you avoiding me?” his mouth said, out of breath from chasing after you in your hurried exit. You turned to him, almost bleeding into the blue of the accented-wallpaper. His eyes softened at your wounded expression. You were gently ripping apart at the wish to see him and be around him, with simultaneous urge to ignore him and become free from his scrutinizing gaze. He would never not know that something was wrong.

He scanned the crowded hallway, and gently, almost as if testing the waters (which he hadn’t felt the need to do in years) placed a hand on your upper arm. “Come on.”

You gave in. God, it was so easy to give in. You missed him. You missed him like a fish might miss water, had it been taken away from it. You missed him like a priest misses God, when his presence ebbs away and the sky is suddenly so very empty. So it was so easy to be led on, to sit down in the passenger of his car and just close your eyes and enjoy how it felt to be beside him. Chan scanned you as he drove, laying there with closed eyes, willing yourself to not look at him again, and realize you had to throw this all away.

He said nothing that entire car ride. Maybe he sensed the desperate need you felt to just have this silence. You clung to it as if it were tangible, as if someone would take it away. He would, once you entered his apartment. Seungcheol was nowhere to be seen. You placed yourself on bed and played with the fraying edges of his IKEA duvet cover.

“I miss you.” he said. You sighed, pursing your lips and looking at your fingers. “I miss you too.”

“You’re avoiding me,” he said, only a faceless presence in your peripheral.

“I’m not avoiding y-...” you trailed off when he crouched down in front of you, your entire vision cursed (or blessed?) with his frustrated face. “You are,” he said, eyes boring into yours. You trembled. “I’m not, I’m just busy.” He backed away, sulking, and you tried not to make it obvious that you heaved in a shaky breath from the proximity. “I can tell when you’re lying, you know?”

You laid down on the bed, arms crossing over your chest as if you were a corpse. Was there a way out of this, you wondered. Every glance, every touch, and every word that dropped from his mouth poked and prodded at you sadistically.

“I’m not lying.”

You heard fumbling and raised your head to see Chan, having discarded his shirt, putting on a new one and you cringed at how your heart sped up, seeing his toned stomach, before it disappeared under a sweater. “What are you doing?” you asked. He sighed. He glanced at you before studying himself in the full-length mirror Seungcheol had stolen from Mingyu.

“I’m going on a date with Irene in, like, twenty minutes.”

A pause. You sat up.

“Oh.”

He went on, throwing around scattered clothes and grappling for a cologne in his bag. “I’m sorry, I can’t cancel this, I don’t think she’ll really appreciate it,” he laughed a little. Throwing his head over his shoulder, his smile faded when he sensed your sorrow. His heart hurt then, so he moved, freshly spritzed with the cologne you bought him last Christmas, to stand in front of you on the bed. Your breath hitched when his hand found your cheek and he was suddenly dripping with sincerity and an emotion you really hoped wasn’t pity. “I just- I really wanted to talk to you, Y/n. I’m really worried about you.” You leaned into his hand pathetically, almost whimpering against it. You missed how his embrace felt. His thumb brushed over your cheek and he lingered there, eyes trained on you for just a moment - perhaps a moment too long - before he pulled away.

Suddenly he was putting on a jacket and ruffling his hair in the mirror again. “If you want you can stay here until I come back? It’ll only be, like, an hour and a half, two hours. Cheol will be home soon, he can keep you company.”

“Yeah, maybe,” your eyes were huge, when you willed yourself to stare at the floor. Chan must’ve sensed the meekness in your voice, because he looked over at you through the mirror, a frown on his lips. “I promise we’ll talk, I just- I don’t wanna disappoint Irene.”

It ached when you responded: “There’s nothing to talk about, Channie. I’m fine.”

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” you only nodded half-heartedly.

“Bye, N/n.”

“Bye, Channie.”

He left with a rustle of his keys, and when the door was closed, your body contracted, muscles pulling inwards until you were hugging your knees in his sheets. And you were crying because it smelled like him, and because he had held your cheek with such care, only to leave moments later for another woman. Everything you held dear, every moment you lingered on was just one-sided. Your tears were crystalline confinements for your most treasured memories with him and you were bleeding out on his bed, sliced in the heart.

It was Seungcheol who found you there like that, curling up in his roommate’s bed with painful sobs squeezing your whole body. You told him. Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did. “I love him,” you cried, and Seungcheol stroked your back, as he listened. “And he doesn’t love me back.”

You apologized abashedly when you had calmed down, but Seungcheol only tutted and shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he’d said and patted your hair, and you giggled even though you felt all silly with your red face and your puffy eyes. The older man promised not to say anything, and you found yourself trusting him completely. You bid your goodbyes and felt a little lighter.

When Chan came home a heavy duvet of regret settled in his stomach. You were gone, only the faint mist of your perfume left behind in his room. When night fell, he slept on a bed stained with your tears. _____________________________

A week passed and you spent every moment alone in your dorm room, ignoring papers and deadlines in favor of lying completely still under the covers. Soonyoung came over with food every once in a while, and always left devastated at how completely disarranged you were. He felt powerless and if there was one thing Kwon Soonyoung didn’t like, it was feeling powerless.

That was how you found yourself in a very John Mulaney-like situation on a monday afternoon, sitting before Soonyoung and, surprisingly, Seungkwan, Soonyoung’s roommate, in a nearby café.

“What is this?” you asked, arms crossed and leaned back in your seat, unimpressed. Soonyoung smiled sheepishly, sliding a paper across the table. It read “Intervention” in big, bubbly letters, colored with cheap highlighters. “An intervention?” you said incredulously.

“Yes, we’re worried about you!”

“He’s worried about you. I’m skipping physics for this,” Seungkwan butted in.

“The community is worried about you,” Soonyoung gave a harsh glare to the younger boy, who was mirroring your distaste for the current situation. “So we’re hosting an intervention.”

“This is bullshit,” you said. “Agreed,” came Seungkwan.

“Alright, you two! Let Daddy explain,” Hoshi waved his arms in outrage and the two of you groaned at the word choice. “Y/n. I am sick and tired of watching you cry and cry and sit at home over a boy who is fricken’ in love with you!”

“Did you just say ‘fricken’?”

“Unimportant. The point is get your act together and tell him or get over him!” Soonyoung was determined. While you felt his point of view was certainly unfair to you, your demeanor gave way a little. He was right, you knew. This was ruining you more than you’d care to admit. “You are worth so much more than this.”

“As much as I hate to contribute to this, Soonyoung has been telling me all about.. Your situation, and I have to say I agree. I thought you and Chan were dating until Soonyoung told me this,” Seungkwan said, smiling sympathetically at you. You frowned. “It doesn’t matter what you guys think, you know. He doesn’t see me like that.. It just fucking hurts.”

“If he doesn’t see you like that, then fuck him--”

“Don’t say that, Soonyoung--”

“You need to put your energy into a man who will know your worth!” Soonyoung sassed and Seungkwan snapped his fingers once for emphasis, face totally blank.

“I know you’re right, okay?” you reasoned, sighing. “It’s not as simple as that. I know you want to help, Soonyoung, but.. I just need time.”

Soonyoung deflated, but he understood. I guess he was a little powerless in this situation. Even Seungkwan, who definitely was not thrilled about missing physics, smiled sorely. You watched them and hated yourself for bringing worry to everyone around. Like an oil spill in the ocean, your black mass infected everything around you. They’d done nothing and here you were, parading your sadness like My Chemical Romance in 2006.

“Thank you anyway.” _____________________________

Chan was theorizing. There were only so many things that could happen so suddenly, that could make you push him away like this. He hadn’t seen you in a week and he’d begun biting his nails again. Every waking moment had become consumed with this question: why? Why were you acting like this? Irene would pointedly comment on how quiet he was being, and his lies came like flowing water.

Chan was certain that he’d never experienced anything harder than watching you unravel everyday. Every morning more disheveled than the last, every smile more dull. Let me help you, he’d think, watching you slump in your seat on the other side of the room, running an unsteady hand over your face. You’d even found a way to avoid him after class. Day after day he’d run after you when you sped out of class, and when he reached the hallway where students were pouring out, you’d be gone like a faint ghost.

Irene ended things with him over a text. “I just don’t see us working out anymore,” it’d read and lying in his room he’d sighed quietly. He couldn’t bring himself to care. The text diverted his attention for only a minute, before he was staring at the ceiling again, thinking of you. It had to have something to do with him somehow. But no matter how much he scrutinized every interaction you’d had, he came up blank.

“Are you okay?” It was Seungcheol, standing in the doorway and hanging his jacket on their clothing rack while eyeing him. He’d hardly heard him come in. Chan heaved a sigh, long lines of worry oozing out of him.

“Y/n’s been acting really weird with me. I can’t figure out if it’s something I did,” Chan squeezed his eyes shut. “I just want her to be okay.”

Seungcheol frowned sympathetically. “Maybe you should just leave her alone.” Chan’s eyes sprung open and he grimaced, before ruffling the sheets where he sat up on the bed. Seungcheol was settling himself onto his bed, phone in hand and head against the headboard. “Why are you saying that?”

For a moment, Seungcheol flashed his brown eyes with a hint of ‘oh shit’ in them, before they relaxed and he regained composure. “I don’t know, maybe she just needs some time away from you.”

A pause swallowed the room. Chan studied his friend with furrowed brows. “Did she talk to you?”

“Uh-”

“You know why she’s acting like this!” Chan raised his voice, weeks of frustration crackling in the pit of his stomach. He stood up, so he could tower over Seungcheol’s bed. “Relax, man, I don’t know anything-”

“You do! Tell me what’s going on, Seungcheol-” Only a few words had been shared, but they’d tugged at the right strings, and suddenly Chan’s muscles were tightened as they buried into Seungcheol’s collar. The older man scowled and wrapped his hands around his roommate’s wrists in warning. Chan’s hold untightened and unscrewed and he slumped in on himself like a piece of paper, “please, Seungcheol, please. I’m going crazy.”

Seungcheol’s gaze softened. He pushed the boy’s hands away and sat up on the bed, voice a low, solemn grumble. “I can’t tell you.”

“Fucking please, Seungcheol. What if something happened to her? At that party. I keep thinking about it, how I wasn’t with her, and what if some asshole harassed her or something. I googled it and Google said women can feel lost, lonely and embarrassed over stuff like that,” Chan started pacing. “And then I was thinking what if it was a friend of ours? And maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell me, but, of course, I’d support her in anything she told me.”

Chan stilled in his wandering across the narrow floorspace. “Can you at least tell me she’s okay?”

All sharp eyes and blonde hair and panted breaths Chan stood in the middle of the room and waited for Seungcheol to tell him that you were okay. Chan would’ve even been at peace with Seungcheol telling him that you never wanted to see him again, fuck, as long as you were fine and you still laughed and smiled, even if it was with Soonyoung and not him.

But the answer didn’t come. Seungcheol frowned and fiddled with his watch. “I don’t think so, man.”

Whatever ties had held Chan back before snapped. He stood still for maybe three seconds in the unlit room, before his body burst into action and he was scrambling for his jacket and keys.

“Fuck this.”

Sprinting down monotonous corridors, a hard-headed Chan let wisps of blonde hair flow behind as the air kissed his cheeks. He wore the crease in his brow that had become permanently etched onto his features. Chan had a one track mind; maybe that’s why things didn’t - wouldn’t - work out with Irene. Currently, the record spinning was you and he’d gone damn near insane, so this time he’d made up his mind. He was not leaving until you talked to him. Whisking past door after door in the quiet nighttime, catching Wonwoo exiting some random dorm and smiling sheepishly, he ignored him and braved forward.

It was not until he was standing right in front of your door that he hesitated. The door framed his figure entirely, trapping him within its confines. What if Seungcheol was right? What if he was making things worse?

But for Chan, he wasn’t sure that he could go any lower. Every day had become a new rock bottom, every day that you avoided him, every moment wondering what he could have possibly done. He missed your smile. So then he was knocking at your door.

“Fuck off, Soonyoung, I’m not going to anymore interventions!” you yelled, voice hoarse from beyond the door. Intervention? Had you developed a drug problem? He knocked again and heard you groan, before heavy footsteps thumped towards him.

“What do you want, Soonyo-” you paused, door half-creaked open. Your eyes were two moons, and your nose and cheeks were red. “Chan,” you breathed, voice nasally from a stuffy nose. Chan said nothing, only pushed past you to get inside. You sniffled.

Your heart was a bomb, or maybe a firework. Chan had lit the fuse and standing before him, where he was half lit in the middle of your room, you knew it was only a matter of time before it exploded, chest blazing with a parade of colors for the fourth of July. Because it was him, a greek fucking god in your toy-decorated room, in his sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and it was you, wimpish and thoroughly out of order, in pyjama shorts and a pink sweater.

“Come. Here.” He wasn’t asking. You nodded and took two steps, and the moment you were within arms reach he enveloped you in his chest. His arms were so strong and warm, one wrapping around your waist and the other bunching up your hair to keep you pressed into him. Your cheek bunched up against his heart, you closed your eyes and heard how fast it was beating. He was scared.

“Talk to me,” you could hear it, too, the fear. His voice was trembling and even though you couldn’t see his face you could imagine his brown eyes glazed over and lips in a pout. The thought squeezed at your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut at the raspiness in your voice. “Don’t be, just talk to me. Please,” his voice was a wavering breath. He pulled away, head ducking down to peer into your eyes. Your cheeks burned and you looked away, becoming completely enamored with the white of his shirt, just for the sake of not seeing his eyes. Then both his hands were on your cheeks, a little harsh at first, but then softening. “Look at me.”

He leaned closer, one hand straying from your cheek to hold you by the back of the head. “Look. At. Me.” he gritted his teeth and you felt the warmth of his face hitting yours. You did. You looked at him, saw him again, really, the guy you’d been avoiding and simultaneously praying closer to you standing before you like a kicked puppy. Suddenly you were crying. It felt like he’d turned you inside out.

“No, no, no, don’t cry, pretty, talk to me, talk to Channie, okay?” he frowned before he was pushing your face closer, nosing your cheek and hair, just a big baby in front of you, with hot and humid breaths on your freshly wetted skin when his lips brushed over it. His hand on the back of your head was only urging you closer, and his back was hunched in a long arch just so he could be with you, as close to you as possible.

And while his touch was bliss for a moment, the reality of it came crashing down, and your hands waved him off, taking a step back, which Chan followed with a step forward. He looked so hurt, hands held out for you to take but you shook your head.

“Don’t- Don’t do this to me, Chan. Not when-” you were shaking when you reached up to rub over your eyes. “Not when- Not when you have Irene to go back to.”

“Irene?” He asked incredulously, almost in outrage, almost as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It spurred you on. “That’s what this is about?”

“No!” you cried, “Or- yes, I don’t know.”

Chan was silent for a few moments when you began pacing, hands over your eyes. “You were jealous?”

“No- That’s not the point!” your lip trembled when you removed your hands and looked at him again, his arms at his sides, now that he didn’t have you to hold.

“We were never going to stop being friends, you know-” his voice was quiet and yours overpowered his easily, when you screamed at him to say: “I didn’t want to be friends!”

Boom goes the dynamite, indeed. Fireworks filled every crevice of your ribcage.

“Because I love you,” you paused only to flick your eyes over to his, and you sucked in the fear. Your voice shook when you continued: “And I think I have for- for, like, a year? And I only realized on the fourth of July and there you were with Irene, and I just… And I thought if I backed off these feelings would go away, because you obviously don’t-”

“Irene broke up with me,” his voice was much quieter than yours. You wanted to scream and cry and yell, because what did that matter? Why did that matter when it changed nothing? But then he spoke again: “She broke up with me because I kept thinking about you.”

Silence. It hit you that Chan was not informing you, he was telling himself this.

“Yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck and chuckled dryly, “I kept being quiet on our dates, ‘cause I was thinking about you. I guess she sensed it.”

You were looking at each other in the dim lights. He was so beautiful, cheeks shiny and soft lashes curling over his lids. You sniffled. “Does that mean that you-”

Yes.

Yes, it did, because before you could even finish your sentence he was taking a step forward and his hand was on your cheek again and this time his lips were on yours and fireworks, fireworks exploded in your chest and on your lips like bursts of static, but this time it wasn’t pained, it was beautiful, and you’re melting into his hold, just as he was yours. Lips moving in perfect unison, he tilted his head down and you tilted yours up, and grabbed his neck, and his other hand slid onto your waist, resting there, as the two of you rocked under the artificial light of your overhead lamp.

Everything you yearned for was in your hands and you didn't dare to pull away, only whimpering when you ran out of breath, and chasing his lips when he pulled away to breathe. He chuckled, mouth curved upwards in that beautiful smile that you love. You love it, and there’s no point in hiding it. He pressed his forehead against yours and you’re panting into each other’s mouths.

“I love you too,” he said. You grinned, a perfect blush spread across your rounded cheeks, and his heart soared so much that he had to kiss you again, pecking and mumbling it again and again against your lips: “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His tongue slid over your lip and you opened your mouth with a squeak. His tongue was wet and warm in your mouth and his hands were suddenly on your hips, pushing them into his. Then he pulled away, blushing himself when a string of spit connects you. “Is this okay?” he asked, so softly, so gently, and you nodded, flushed and out of breath and pathetically desperate.

“Yes,” you whined, “need you so bad.” He cooed when you pressed your hips into his, long fingers brushing hair out of your face. “Channie’s gonna take care of you. Channie’s gonna make it up to you,” and yet again it's almost like he was saying it to himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he lowered the two of you onto your bed. Hair strands stretched from their roots in your head, when you hit your plush pillow, and you were all shiny and sparkling eyes, laid out before him in a way that he never dared to imagine. “Too pretty,” he whispered, kissing you again.

He was grinding into you, anchoring himself on your waist and whimpering into the corner of your mouth at the feeling of your warm center through your shorts. “Baby, need you so bad. Can I take this off?” he tugged at your shirt and you nodded, unable to get anything out but whines. He pulled off the pink fabric, marveling at your bare chest before him. Of course, he’d seen it before, in tight shirts, on days where you’d decided to forgo a bra, and he’d always cursed himself for imagining the real thing. “You’re so beautiful,” he cried, as he hit your core just right and he stared at your tits’ slight jiggle.

“Such a pretty baby, so ready for me, can I touch them, please, please?” he was babbling, somehow already pussydrunk, but you were no better, eyebrows cinched together in pleasure, nodding without even an ounce of hesitation at his request. He groped at your chest, thumbs brushing over the hardened buds, before he ducked his head down to suck on one. You’re gasping, as his tongue flicked over you, hands tangling themselves in his hair, moaning his name into the air. He hummed loudly, and you felt a thick glob of wetness escape your pussy at just the sight of him, hunched over you like a wild animal, panting into your chest.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered and he let go of your tit with a small ‘pop’, lifting his head to look at you. He was grinning ear to ear, face still hovering over your chest. “Am I?” and suddenly he was so cocky, hand cupping your heat through your shorts, and watching as you buck into his hand with a strangled moan. “Needy girl, need pretty Channie to touch you, hm?” He teased, fingers gently rubbing over the fabric of your damp shorts.

“Please,” you whined, thrashing in the sheets, desperate enough to cry. He cooed and shushed you, hovering over you by one, strong arm: “Shh, sweetheart, shh, I know. I got you, I’ll make you feel good.” As much as Chan wanted to make you beg, he was desperate too, and he couldn’t help the slight guilt of what you’d been through. The thought almost made him frown, but he pushed it away and peeled off your shorts and underwear in one swoop.

You cried out when his fingers were finally sliding through your folds. Your eyes, half closed, flicked up to see him, gaze trained on your core in amazement. “You’re so wet, baby,” he purred, spreading the warm slick up to your clit to start circling it with two fingers. “Just for you- Mngh!”

He plunged two fingers into you with ease, wetness coating his fingers to let them slide in. You were panting and thrashing and moaning his name, and he just watched with the biggest hardon he’d ever had, how he made you feel good and how pretty you were, and how much he never wanted to pull his fingers out of your sopping wet heat.

“Do you want my fingers in your mouth?” he asked, and you squeezed your eyes shut and nodded vigorously. “Hey, hey,” the fingers that weren’t plunging in and out of you and curling into your pussy’s sweet spot, squeezed your chin. Your eyelashes fluttered open, and you stared at him with blown out eyes. “You gotta look at me while you do it.”

Then his fingers prodded at your lips, and you opened them with a whine, willing yourself to keep them open, to see how he smiled adoringly down at you. They were filling you just right, one hand stuck in your pussy and the in your mouth, teasing over your tongue. Your orgasm was approaching, knotting in your stomach, embarrassingly fast.

He groaned at the sight of you, looking up at him with huge, adoring eyes while sucking his fingers. “Fuck, fuck, good girl, such a good, appreciative girl, taking my fingers wherever she can.” You clenched around him at that, and he chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, you like being my good girl? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.”

You released his fingers only to moan - almost scream - his name, as you came around his fingers, curling into you and working you through your orgasm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum on Channie’s fingers. Look so pretty when you cum.”

You were still dazed on your bed in the glimmering aftermath of your post-orgasm, when you heard Chan shuffling beside you, and then he was leaning over you once again, shirt and pants discarded and cock proud and stiff and leaking precum onto your stomach. You groaned at the sight, hand trailing over his exposed stomach, where abs dipped and rose, glistening softly. Then your thumb caressed and pressed against his slit and he hissed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

He nosed at your neck, pecking a little, before speaking, voice too strained and too pretty: “Can I fuck you, baby? Please, please, I need to feel you around me so bad.” He had shut his eyes tight, fighting the urge to grab hold of your back and press your tits into his chest.

“Please,” you came back equally as whiny, writhing in his hold, where his thumb was rubbing soft circles in your hip bone. “Please, wan’ your cock. Need it.” He smiled into your neck, grabbing your head and kissing your cheek. “So cute.”

You felt the head of his cock slide through your still impossibly wet folds, then pressing against your entrance. You were murmuring his name over and over and he was panting into your neck and licking a stripe of wet glistening saliva onto it, as he began to push in.

You were writhing so much he had to place his hands on your hips to still you, whispering soft reassurances until he was pushed all the way, clit pushed into his abdomen. You’re so full, you can’t stop the wanton moans at the feeling of his pretty, red cock, every bulge and vein pressed against your gummy walls. “You’re so fucking tight,” he spat, fearful that he’d spill his load into you immediately from the way you were clenching him. Then, slowly, he was rocking into you and the both of you were clambering onto one another. Your hands found his neck, his hair, his flexing biceps, and his your hips, waist, boob, and then clambering up to hold your face and look into your eyes.

“Look at me,” you almost didn’t catch the way he repeated those words from before, but you looked into his brown orbs, blonde hair curling over and tickling your forehead. “So fucking pretty, so cute, my little cumslut. Say you want my cum, baby, please, say it.”

“Wan’ your cum!” you cried, as he angled his cock inside you to press into that spongy spot. He was giving in to all his wants at your words, pulling you up by pressing his arms under your back, so your tits pressed against his chest, and he was nosing at your face again, trailing kisses everywhere he could reach. “So good for me, so pretty, all mine. Fuck, sweetheart.”

“All yours,” you babbled mindlessly, when his hand snaked between your bodies to rub circles into your clit. “Cum for me, cum for me, baby.”

His thrusts were growing sloppy, and you felt the knot tightening in you once more, pulled tight and ready to snap. “Cum, cum, come on, my pretty darling. Fuck, Y/n, I love you!”

At those words you came, pussy pulsating around his cock and clenching so tight, he was unsure if he could even pull out in time. He did though, pulling out just in time to see his seed spill all over your soft stomach.

Panting and out of breath, his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of you, body covering yours. “Ugh,” you groaned and looked up at you, laughing softly. “Chan, you’re heavy,” you complained. “I’m a weighted blanket,” he countered, but climbed off of you anyway, lying down next to you. You looked at him, with the side profile of a god, and his blonde hair tousled and chest rising and falling.

“You are pretty,” you said, and you could almost cry when he looked at you and blushed.

“You should’ve just told me,” he whispered, turning his head to gaze at you. You frowned and nodded. “But it doesn't matter now,” he reassured, one hand climbing from the sloping, bunched up duvet and running his hand through your hair. He tilted his gaze towards your cum covered stomach, some of it having smeared onto himself, and he pushed himself off the bed. "I'll get a towel."

Naked and divine, he disappeared into your small bathroom.

“Oh, God..” you groaned suddenly, face morphing into anguish.

“What?” Chan called from the bathroom.

“Soonyoung is going to be the most insufferable person on the planet when he finds out about this."

#lee chan x reader #chan x reader #lee chan smut #chan smut #dino smut #dino x reader #svt chan x reader #svt dino x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #svt angst #dino angst #chan angst #lee chan angst

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penaltyboxboxbox · 9 months

Note

any genderbend headcanons you would like to share 👀????

YEAH....YEAH I DO....theyre all pretty random and non specific but if you want to hear me ramble about my girl drivers here u go

Charles: she's a non conventional fashion girlie...........she likes to dress quite femininely and and gets a lot of fashion based brand deals so she is often pairing skirts and such with her sportswear and it sometimes looks a bit silly. a lot of her fits are like...is it a fit or is she just really pretty and wearing designer lol. the skirt i drew her in is what I THINK would be her version of the quali pants, it's this knit skirt from gucci 💁‍♂️

Carlos: she is like two steps away from being a high bun lesbian. still keeps her FEM VIBES mostly because of family pressure. but the second she gets put in a dress its all a little . hm. youre a masc arent you.

Pierre: happy to be the paddock baddie like....she embraces it fully. she got a boob job and doesnt care if people know. constantly hints at being bisexual on instagram but will never confirm.

Esteban: the girl who had the most major glow up............and who has also had a bob her whole gd life. literally lives in a lulu jacket and yoga pants like its her uniform. she and pierre had the most toxic codependent girl friendship of all time. she's soooo so so tall and always got mad growing up because none of the boys liked her cause she was taller than them and got teased about it....still tall as fuck

Lance: my tall and beautiful wife...every few months she chops her bangs too short and everyone cries until they grow out again. she hates having hair in her eyes.... hates dresses and heels since she always sits with her legs out...gotta be comfy duh..

Fernando: milflonso............she was an it girl in her youth and then got divorced and came out as a lesbian and became an irresistible masc

George: the preppiest girl you can imagine she will never cut her hair AND she will wear a skort. extreme complex about being a tall girl.

Lewis: ultimate fashionista like she gets it....changes her hair a lot more than boy lewis....extremely in denial lesbian who dates the gayest men imaginable

Yuki: shes a hey mamas lesbian. she flirts so hard with pierre from like eye level with her huge boobs. kind of a fuckboy she swears she'll treat you rightttt come on babyyyy

Daniel: used to be such a hotgirl such a coolgirl like in her younger days she had long long hair and dressed sexy and was all about pushing this like....im a hot girl but im also so cool and just like the boys 😜 (she was overcompensating for something) but after she leaves redbull she like cuts off all her hair and slowly starts mascing the fuck out as she gets older.....now shes just straight up soft butch and everyone knows she kisses girls

Max: grew up forced to have the worst bowlcut in the world and never got to be very girly or anything so when she grew up she finally let her hair grow long and never cuts it. has barely any personal style and still cannot walk in heels tho.

Checo: arguably the one who cleans up the best like shes the one with the makeover montage everyone is so used to seeing her in red bull gear and a ponytail every damn day the second she puts on an outfit everyones like HELLO?????

Valtteri: used to be permanently in the low pony tail and attempting to dress acceptably business casual woman enough for things but after she left merc just embraced being a butch. has the same mullet as guy val. hallelujah

Guanyu: suuuuuch a fashion girl and absolutely rules instagram and weibo..........always doing photoshoots and stuff. experiments with cute hairstyles a lot, but always keeps her bangs ☝️

Alex: used to be super plain like wore big hoodies and just left her hair long and straight and hanging there until one day she got the chop+undercut going on.......now shes well aware shes everyones ideal boyfriend if he were a girlfriend.

Logan: my florida girl......my natural blonde with her little ponytail.....when she was growing up her parents definitely put her shirts like this

Lando: she is a racing driver as much as she is an influencer.............people discourse about if shes fanservicing like every 2 seconds. girl gamer and proud.

Oscar: she lives in gym clothes. nike pros or leggings every day with the most boring shirt. never does her hair or wears makeup

KMag: best mom everrrrrrr 🫶

Nico: she talks openly about how men are very intimidated by her. she is indeed kind of scary.

#ask #genderbend

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capricornlevi · 11 months

Text

(wc 759)

"you're gonna make me look good?"

jean's question is delivered with that annoying crooked smile, his jersey hugging tight across his chest as he stands with his hands clasped behind his back. he arches an eyebrow expectantly as you fiddle with the camera, trying to fix the settings that seem to have adjusted themselves without your knowledge.

as captain of the soccer team, he's the last player whose picture you need to capture for the college yearbook, and also as the captain, he brings with him an exceptionally smug but annoyingly charming aura that threatens to penetrate your stony resolve.

no, you force yourself to keep a straight face, it's bad enough that you got roped into this gig for free as a favour to your professor, you don't need to start stretching out these interactions any longer.

at that, you set the camera back on the tripod and lean closer, making sure the framing is right.

"okay, smile?" you say, halfway between an instruction and a question.

"i am smiling," he retorts instantly.

"smile ... i don't know, properly."

he winces with mock offence, screwing up whatever hope you had of getting the picture in one shot and finishing up for the day.

"properly?" he queries incredulously.

you sigh, closing your eyes so you don't roll them.

"professionally, then. formally. whatever what you want to do it."

"not open to me doing a silly one?"

"i'll give you one guess on that."

in the viewfinder you see jean's face twist back into that now-familiar smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, the light brown of his hair contrasting again the royal blue of the drape behind him.

(the hall of the gym isn't the best place to set up an impromptu photo studio, but you found an old team flag bundled up in a supply cupboard that made for a decent background)

"okay, okay, i'll be professional. showing my leadership qualities, and so on."

"great," you say flatly, focusing the camera.

"really demonstrating my abilities to represent the school."

"sounds good."

"recording this moment for future generations to come, a piece of living history--"

"do you ever stop talking?"

your interruption was intended to throw him off his tangent, hopefully to buy enough time for you to actually get the picture, but all it does is make him throw his head back with a laugh.

"i can if you want me to."

"if you wouldn't mind," you mumble, feeling a slight pang of guilt at how hard you came in when he's clearly just trying to lighten the mood.

still, you've been here since seven this morning -- soccer practice is early early, you've discovered -- and all you want in the world is to make your way home to collapse back into bed.

"ok, i'll shut up for a minute. if you can answer something for me first."

you take a steadying breath, temper starting to simmer. "what is it?"

"can you actually tell me if i look good?"

against all odds, he shocks you out of your sullen silence.

you pull away from focusing at the camera display to stare wordlessly at jean, the seriousness of the question still pinging around in your head.

he's flirting, obviously, but the question was delivered with sincerity.

"meaning?" you ask. no harm in clarifying, plus you're not entirely sure if he's looking for an ego boost or just asking whether his jersey is too wrinkled or his hair out of place.

"do i look good?"

you swallow thickly, avoiding the temptation to give him a once over. "you look fine."

"fine won't make the history books," he objects; again, with a hint of earnestness that you could find amusing in another setting.

"whatever. you look good, then."

"hair okay?"

"it's a mullet, so --"

he clutches his chest as if wounded, fully grinning now. "no cheap shots at the mullet while I'm in such a vulnerable position, im begging you."

again, your curiosity forces you to engage.

"vulnerable how?"

still smiling, eyes fixed on you, he answers.

"well, talking to a pretty girl, for one thing. secondly, pretty sure she's sworn off soccer players for good after this morning, so ... uphill battle, and all that. plus ive had a crush on her since she was selected as photographer for the championship final last year, so even more's at stake, y'know."

you pause. no words leave you, nothing even resembling a response. you're sure your mouth has actually dropped open.

brow arched again, jean tilts his head forward expectantly.

"aren't you gonna take the picture?"

#jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean x you #may tries to write #nanowrimo23 #nanowrimo drabble 1 of many i hope teehee #i love u jean kirstein #i love u cocky college athlete jean kirstein hc

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sadhours · 1 year

Text

simmer down

billy hargrove x f!reader

masterlist • requests are open! • read on ao3

summary: being tommy hagan’s sister had it’s perks, but when the new kid from California catches your attention, it seems like more of a curse than a good thing

warnings: 18+ minors dni, Steve x Reader, underage drinking, partying, smut, p in v, angst, Billy is a mystery, Steve/Nancy, slow burn, forbidden romance

Being Tommy Hagan’s sister had its advantages. Your freshman year of high school, you had a guaranteed spot with the cool kids and an invite to every party. Tommy wasn’t protective by any means. You two were buddies, you and Carol were buddies and of course, you and Steve Harrington were buddies. Freshman year was a blur, until Nancy ripped Steve away from the group. Still, the three of you were determined to keep the good times rolling. Sure, you spent every single Saturday, Sunday and Monday hungover but it was worth it. You think.

Maybe you didn’t remember the parties very well but hell, you knew you’d had fun. Plus, you were lucky enough to lose your virginity to the King on your fifteenth birthday and even if he pretended you didn’t exist once he started dating Nancy, it was worth it. Okay, so you weren’t totally over Steve but you were coping just fine. Carol didn’t let you mope for long. There were too many parties to go to.

Then one day, Steve Harrington is pushed to the very back door of your mind. Perched on your brother’s car, sharing a cigarette with him and his girlfriend, a pretty blue Camaro whips through the parking lot and slides into the parking spot across from you. A small, angry redhead bolts out, slamming the door and zips up to the middle school on a skateboard. Every head in the parking lot is turned to the muscle car and the gorgeous, denim-clad, mulleted blonde motherfucker. He takes your breath away. Takes Tommy and Carol’s breath away. The guys dripping in cool. Not another person like him has stepped foot in this midwestern hell hole. The three of you can’t wait to sink your claws in him. He flicks his cigarette away, a small hint of a smirk curling his lips and your eyes follow the Marlboro as it tumbles to the ground. The fucking guy didn’t even smoke half of it. The nicotine fiend in you is tempted to snatch it up, but that’s like, super uncool.

You watch as Tina and her girls eyes linger on the stranger, practically salivating at the way his ass looks in his jeans. It must take at least ten minutes for the fucker to pull his pants up.

“Who the hell is that?” Carol wonders aloud for the group.

“One bitchin’ dude,” Tommy scoffs, an impressed tilt to his voice.

;;;

Tommy moves fast. You know this. He had an easy way about him, friendly even though he was the biggest asshole you knew. That blue Camaro is parked on the curb in front of your house. Your parents are outside, doing the yard work necessary to prepare for the cold front sweeping in. Your whole life was spent in Hawkins so you know nothing else but god, do you yearn for year long summers.

You were eager to listen to the new record you’d just bought. A quick wave to your parents and you’re opening the front door, flooded with the sound of Metallica’s The Four Horsemen. Tommy’s pulled out his only metal album to impress the new kid. The feeling in your gut isn’t new. You used to get the same excited feeling whenever Steve was over. However, this was different because Steve knew you. He watched you grow up. You’d known him since you were little. This new guy hasn’t played Barbie’s with you from the age eight to twelve.

You take a deep breath before heading towards Tommy’s room, leaning against the doorframe. Tommy’s head banging obnoxiously, Carol is checking her nails looking bored and the blonde boy is nodding his head along to the bass line. He’s got a cigarette pinched to between his fingers and as he’s bringing the filter to his lips, he sees you.

He takes a drag, smirks and says, “Hey.”

You’ve never loved your brothers ability to make friends more.

“Hi,” you try to say in the coolest way you can.

Tommy pauses his thrashing and motions to you, “Oh, Billy! This is my sister.”

“Nice to meet you, Tommy’s sister,” he drawls.

You tell him your name, awkwardly lingering in the doorway before Carol’s tugging you inside.

“Whatcha got in the bag?” Billy asks, fingers pressing to the brown paper.

You swallow, “Uh, just a record.”

“Which one?”

You pull out the cellophane wrapped vinyl, displaying the copy of Out of the Cellar by Ratt you’d just excitedly purchased with your allowance.

“Oh, fuck yeah! Atta girl,” he cheers as he snatches it out of your hand.

The praise causes a flutter downstairs. Five minutes into meeting this fucking guy and you’re already a puddle. The excitement at impressing him is unmatched.

Billy shimmies around you, places a strong hand on your hip as he passes to stop the Metallica record and replace it with your new one. You plop down on the floor next to Carol, eyes drawing back up to Billy as he turns the volume up, cigarette hanging between his lips. He bobs his head, his earring dangling against his wispy curls and you don’t like feeling this arousal while in the same room as your brother and his girlfriend.

“Did you see Steve with the princess today? Ugh, gag me with a spoon,” Carol nudges your knee while mimics gagging herself.

Billy snorts, “What’s the deal with that guy? People kept telling me I was gonna be the new King, whatever the fuck that means.”

Tommy chimes in, “He used to be the King. We were good buddies until he started sticking his dick in the priss.”

“Steve’s nice,” you shrug. Only Carol knows what happened between the two of you and you’d sworn her to secrecy, too embarrassed to let your brother know you’d fallen for his best friend. She gives you a pointed look before rolling her eyes.

“He used to be cool, now he’s nice,” Tommy deflects, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. He pulls a beer of the sixer and tosses it to you, which you fumble to catch.

You tap your nail on the tap, trying your best to rid the memories of Steve kissing you late at night from your head. You know if you glance over to Billy, they’ll dissipate but then you’ll be imagining kissing him and you don’t want that either.

“So where’d you move from?” you ask, not looking up from the beer.

Billy sits next to you with the thud, his knee knocking yours which absolutely does not shoot heat to between your legs. He lifts his can to you, indicating he’d like to cheers you. Sometimes Tommy’s friends did things like this with you and while he wasn’t protective of you, he made you promise that friends were out of the question. You could not hook up with any of them. Acquaintances were fine and while Billy was only that right now, you know Tommy wanted to be good buddies with him so you were awaiting the conversation. You were getting ahead of yourself. A cheers does not mean Billy’s attracted to you.

“California,” he replies as you clink aluminum cans. “Much better than this shithole.”

“You’re telling me,” Carol whines, “I fucking hate this place.”

Billy drops his cigarette in the empty beer can sitting in the middle of the floor, apparently the designated ashtray. He leans his head back to look at you, “What’s there to do here?”

You feel shy under his gaze, almost choking on your swig of beer once your eyes meet his. You clear your throat and swallow hard, “Uh, parties, mostly. Hang out in the woods. Go to convenience stores.”

“Ah. I expected more hick shit. Ya know, tipping cows, shooting guns, kissing cousins,” Billy chuckles, biting his lip as his eyes dart between your brother and his girlfriend.

“Carol knows about kissing cousins,” Tommy sneers, throwing his girlfriend under the bus.

“Do you have to tell everyone?” she hurls a rolled up sock at him. She turns to Billy, “He’s exaggerating. We’re not even blood related.”

Billy laughs, a cackle that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can’t help but giggle. You’d heard the story a million times. Carol was at a family reunion and didn’t even realize the guy was a distant cousin. However, shit, it’s a family reunion. Who’s trying to get their rocks off at a family reunion?

“You guys smoke grass?” Billy changes the subject and the three of you nod in unison. “Know where I can get some?”

“Eddie “The Freak” Munson,” Tommy tells him, “I think I have some, though. Hold you over in the meantime.” He gets up and sifts through his sock drawer, returning with a tied off ziploc bag to hand to Billy.

“And now,” Billy takes it and shoves it in his pocket, “We’re best buds.”

Tommy beams at the declaration. And with those words, Billy Hargrove has just become verboten. Damn it.

Tommy tells you as much when Billy leaves, rattling off about his dad being an asshole and he’s got to get home before he does.

“I saw those eyes,” Tommy raises a scolding finger at you, “Don’t even try it. He’s too cool.”

“Aw, Tommy,” Carol pouts, “Let her have some fun.”

“No,” you raise your hands defensively, “You didn’t see any eyes. I don’t even think he’s cute.”

Tommy scoffs, “Yeah, right. Even I think the guy is hot.”

Carol raises an eyebrow, “You going queer on me, big boy?”

“Me? Queer?” Tommy laughs, “Let me show you how untrue that is.”

“Okay, ew, I’m leaving,” you push yourself off the ground and run out of the room, closing the door behind you.

;;;

“Does Tina throw bitchin’ parties?” Billy asks you, taking a drag off his cigarette before passing it.

You take it and try to ignore the tingling feeling on your lips as you take a hit. You’re leaning against the trunk of his Camaro, Carol and Tommy are nearby but too busy making out to listen to the conversation.

“I guess?” you reply, “All the parties here kind of bleed together. They’re fun and all, just… the same thing.”

Billy looks over to your brother with his tongue down Carol’s throat, “They do that all the time, huh?”

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it,” you shrug.

“What about you?” he turns slightly towards you, “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

You can feel the way your cheeks redden, “I don’t know. No one’s really caught my attention, I guess.”

“Is he protective?”

You shake your head, “No, the opposite. Tommy doesn’t give a shit what I do. I just haven’t met anyone I like in that way.”

“Yeah,” Billy muses, “I know the feeling.”

That catches your attention. Every girl at Hawkin’s High is throwing themselves at him but not a single one special enough to tickle his fancy. You included.

“I’m young, anyways,” you deflect, “I have plenty of time to find the man of my dreams.”

“Oh, yeah?” Billy digs his canine into his lower lip, “What’s the motherfucker you’ve dreamed up like?”

You, you don’t say. “Oh, I don’t know!”

“You’ve thought about it. Is he nice, like King Steve?” Billy raises his eyebrows, “Is he a freak like Munson?”

No, he’s blonde with a mullet and pretty eyelashes.

“He hasn’t made himself known yet,” you urge, “Maybe he’s a millionaire, maybe he’s a rockstar.”

“You want Vince Neil?” he knocks he elbow into yours.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you shrug.

Billy cackles, “All you chicks are the same.”

You scoff, “Oh and guys aren’t? Like you’re not pining over Lita Ford.”

“Nah,” he laughs, “Not my thing.”

“What is your thing then?” you ask, eyes meeting briefly before you can’t handle the heat of them. Billy’s eyes are too pretty. The bluest you’ve ever seen.

“Someone real,” he says, sincerely and it tugs your heartstrings.

“Billy, the romantic,” you tease, shoving your hands in your pocket.

“Far from it, sweetheart,” he pats your shoulder before pushing himself off the bumper and heading into the building as the bell rings.

Sweetheart drips down your throat and curls around your heart.

;;;

It’s not much of a costume. It’s a short skirt, fishnets and a too tight top. You can say you’re Madonna but how many girls are going as Madonna. You just want to look hot. Want Billy to look at you like you’re more than Tommy’s little sister. Like you’re some video vixen and he just cannot keep his hands to himself. It’s a flourishing thought that you push deep down. Tommy can’t control you but you think of the conversation you’d hand the day before. Billy isn’t into you. He had the opportunity to say something and he didn’t. And one thing you’ve learned about boys your age is if they want it, they’ll make it known.

“Are you ready yet?” Carol’s asking as she peers into your bedroom. You scan her outfit up and down, you think maybe she’s channeling Madonna as well but you can’t pin exactly what she’s dressed as.

You wipe the corner of your mouth, fixing the smeared lipstick.

“Yeah, just about,” you mumble, reapplying your mascara.

“Billy’s meeting us there,” she sings, grinning wide at you in the mirror.

You roll your eyes, “Carol, he’s off limits and even if he wasn’t, I don’t like Billy like that.”

“Sure,” she purrs, slapping the doorframe, “Vamoose, pretty girl. I wanna get wasted.”

Tommy’s a bad driver. He was also drinking before he left so he’s even worse, by the time you get to the party you feel like you’ve already got the spins. You hold onto Carol’s wrist to ground yourself and Billy’s rushing up behind the two of you.

“Boo!” he shouts, pressing a hand to your lower back.

Carol shrieks but you’d seen him coming. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling the two of you two his chest. He reeks of whiskey and Marlboro Reds. Seems like Billy had a bit of pregaming himself.

“Hi, Billy,” the two of you sing in unison.

Tommy barrels around the car, running up from behind to jump onto Billy’s back which causes all of you to tumble to the ground. Carol screams, scolding Tommy about ruining her hair but you’re distracted by the laugh erupting from Billy, his lips so close to your ear you can feel his breath fanning against it. It makes you tingle all over and you desperately want to grab him and pull him closer, want to press your lips to his in a hungry kiss. Then it’s gone, he’s up from the ground with Tommy pulling him towards the keg and Carol’s reaching her hand down to you.

You stumble along with her and when you’re reaching the keg, Billy’s pumping it and filling cups for you and Carol.

“You’ve got to beat Steve’s record, Billy! Come on,” Tommy urges his friend, hands clasped tight around his shoulders.

You stand over by Carol and Tina, watching the way the brunette fucks Billy with her eyes. A pang of jealousy surges through your stomach but you chug from the red Solo cup to drown it out. You sway along with the Motley Crüe song, unable to stop your eyes from scanning the crowd for familiar chestnut hair and brown eyes. Carol must notice because she grabs your face and turns it to look at Billy. She wants you to get over Steve just as badly as you do. You notice Billy’s costume, you think he’s going for terminator but it’s laid back. An homage rather than a costume. His abs look nice, you imagine what they must feel like. Carol’s a good friend.

They lift Billy up, he bites around the tap and makes eye contact you for a brief second before beer is flooding into your mouth. He easily beats Steve’s record. Seems like he could’ve gone longer but the second he beats it, they’re pulling him down. He spits the foam out, beer dripping down his chin to his chest and it’s… a sight. They funnel inside but you stick by Carol.

“God, he’s so yummy,” Tina gushes, turning to you and Carol.

Carol agrees excitedly, winks at you and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Tina.

“What? Did you call dibs already?”

“God, no,” you say, a little too defensively. “I just have eyes and Carol wants to live vicariously through me. It’s not happening.”

“Well, I’m definitely not holding back,” Tina quips.

You imagine the two of you as cats, tails high and backs arched, ready to pounce.

“Go for it,” you shrug, holding your beer close to your chest.

You retreat first, heading inside in search of a better time. A spiked punch is in your future. It’s only slightly dampened when you see Nancy downing cup after cup in the kitchen, Steve upset and asking her to cool it. He doesn’t even notice your presence and that’s totally fine. You’re a fly on the wall like you usually are around him. Steve reaches for her cup again and they struggle for power until the force of their hands pulls the cup back and spills the sticky red punch all over her white sweater. Everyone reacts in shock and you have to still your mouth from the smile threatening against your lips as you quickly avert your attention.

When they flutter away, you copy Nancy. Downing as many cups as you can before you start to feel numb. Seeing Steve was a shock to your system. All prior feelings rush to the forefront of your brain and you want to find him, pull him into a empty bedroom and kiss him from head to toe. It’s a shame when you see him and Nancy lock themselves away in a bathroom. You linger, clutching your drink to your chest as you watch drunk teenagers dance the night away. Nancy doesn’t deserve Steve. He shouldn’t have to change to be with her. You liked Steve the way he was.

Steve opens the door and slams it behind him, he pushes passed out, shoulders colliding and when he turns to look at you, you notice tears in his eyes. The brunette is quick to swivel back around, stomping outside and you wonder what in the hell just happened in there. Half of you is tempted to follow him outside, offer comfort in whatever way you can but then you feel large, strong hands wrap around your waist. You tilt your head back to see Billy standing behind you with a drunk smile plastered on his face, his eyes are tinted red like he’s been smoking more than cigarettes.

He leans down, lips close to your ear so he can whisper, “Why are you hiding from us?”

“Hiding? I’m not hiding,” you argue, lifting your cup to explain further, “Where is everyone?”

“Backyard,” he smirks, releasing his grip and stumbling towards the sliding glass door.

He turns his head briefly to make sure you’re following him.

Tina’s backyard is trashed. You can’t imagine what the cleanup is going to be like tomorrow. As soon as you step out the door, Billy grabs your hips again and urges you to the left. You look down and see what looks like five smashed beer bottles, right outside the door. You mumble a thank you before wiggling out of his grip. The last thing you need is for Tommy to see it. The blonde guides you over to the group and you collapse down next to your brother and Carol.

“Steve and Nancy just got in a fight,” you tell them before bringing your cup to your lips.

Carol raises her eyebrows and leans closer, giving you a look you know all too well. You quickly shake your head, slouching your shoulders and trying to sink away from her gaze. Tommy lets out a cackle, leaning his body back with it.

“We heard, he threw punch on her?”

“Well, no, he didn’t throw it on her, it just spilled,” you explain, watching in your peripheral how Tina leans her body against Billy’s and whispers in his ear. Immediately, your stomach turns but you ignore it. There’s no way you could be jealous, you don’t even know the guy yet and you’re going to make sure you don’t stew on how attractive he is. You know how mad Tommy will be and besides, your brother isn’t exactly loyal to you. You imagine if you did make a move on Billy and he rejected you, Tommy wouldn’t stop hanging out with him. Or god forbid, he doesn’t reject you but instead breaks your heart and Tommy would still pick Billy’s side. You know this about your brother.

“But they went into the bathroom and I guess argued, because Steve came storming out and he looked like he was crying,” you continue, picking at a loose thread on your skirt.

Tommy snorts, “I knew they wouldn’t last long.”

Carol nods along with him, “She’s too prissy for Steve. I bet the argument was something stupid too.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, allowing yourself to turn slightly and just in time to catch Tina shoving her tongue down Billy’s throat. You’re quick to turn back to your brother and Carol.

“You guys wanna leave soon?” Carol asks, you know she’s trying to be casual but only asking to save you the displeasure of watching Billy and Tina make out for the rest of the night.

“Yeah, I’m pretty over it,” you admit, stretching your arms up.

Tommy scoffs, “You guys are so boring. It’s still early.”

It is, you don’t even feel drunk yet but you are bored and too many unpleasant feelings are swirling around you. If you get any more alcohol in you, you’re libel to throw yourself at Steve, or worse, Billy.

“This party kind of blows, though,” Carol argues and wraps her arms around Tommy, whispering something in his ear. Whatever she said has him grinning and jumping to his feet. You’d rather not know.

;;;

You’re sitting in study hall, trying to stay awake when a note lands on your desk. You turn and see Steve failing at trying to look innocent, he fake coughs in his hand while stretching his opposite arm up and then back down. His eyes meet yours briefly and he quickly looks away, a hint of smile on his lips. You unfold the note and see Steve’s messy handwriting scrawled lopsided on the top of the page.

Wanna listen to my Abba record?

You stare at it a little dumbfounded, because it was an inside joke between the two of you. It was his lame way of trying to get you alone at one of his parties. It was only the second time you guys had ever messed around and as your relationship continued, it became something Steve would say just to make you blush or laugh. Worse, though, it turned into a code for sneaking away to hook up. His fight with Nancy must’ve been more serious than you thought. This was Steve’s olive branch, and it was sleazy but it was also romantic, unfortunately.

You write back in neat, straight handwriting, Right here in study hall?

You carefully slide the paper onto his desk and turn back to your textbook. From the corner of your eye, you see Steve grinning wide as he reads what you’ve wrote before furiously writing and handing it back.

Is that a yes?

It’s a maybe. I don’t think Mr. Delfin would appreciate it.

Fair enough. The albums at my house anyway. After school then?

You chew on your bottom lip. It would be very easy to fall back into this but you have plans with your brother, Carol and Billy. However, the prospect of being alone with Steve seems way more appealing. And you can’t help yourself, you think about Steve more than you think about anything else. You absolutely miss touching him and you’ve been rather frustrated since he started going out with Nancy.

Meet me in the library after school.

;;;

You made some dumb excuse to Carol about having to work on a class project in the library. She bought it but tried to insist on you ditching it entirely to get to know Billy better. Which you knew Carol was aware you wouldn’t go for.

When Steve walks up to you, you’re standing at the window. He leans against the wall and looks at you quizzically.

“Whatcha doing?”

You watch as Tommy and Carol pile into his car and drive off, the blue Camaro following after them and you say to Steve, “Just making sure it’s… safe. Okay, let’s go.”

Steve let’s out a scoff, “Don’t want them to see you with me?”

You crane your head sideways as you look up at him, “I’m ditching them for you. They’d be mad.”

Steve nods his head, pursing his lips like he can taste your words. You keep your hands to yourself on the walk to his BMW, you’d learned to do as much when you guys were fooling around. Steve talks a lot on the drive to Loch Nora. None of it really makes much sense, or is important but you like listening to his voice. It’s adorable, he stutters every so often and rambles on, losing his thought and then rushing into a completely new thought. The reason you like it so much is you’ve seen Steve hit on girls throughout the years and weirdly enough, this is how he does it so you feel special when it’s directed at you.

His house is empty, it usually is but what always shocked you was how clean it was. A teenage boy lived there alone for eight months of the year, you expected it to be messy but then again, you’re sure they have a cleaning lady coming often. Steve leads you up the stairs and to his bedroom. It smells clean, like laundry detergent and his cologne. Your stomach is doing flips at the familiarity of it all, you’ve been in this exact position many times before and you’re anticipating his next moves. As you sit on his bed, Steve wraps his hand around your hip and lays you on your back. You shyly smile up at him, the weight of his body makes you tingle all over and his big, brown eyes look into yours. There hasn’t been a night in months that you haven’t pictured this exact moment happening, ushering you to sleep and hopefully dream of Steve.

He pushes tucks your hair behind your ear as he cracks a smile, teeth bright and white while his cheeks flush just a smidge. You want to tell him how much you’ve missed him but him and Nancy have only been broken up a couple of days, you know what this is. That’s your downfall, though, you’ll bend over backwards to have Steve. When his lips caress yours, a small moan rises up your throat involuntarily. It’s a soft, sweet kiss and he gently holds your cheek as he does it. Your fingers snake into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer so you can deepen the kiss. Steve takes things slow, he always did and you’ve always been bursting at the seams, eager for more. You drag your tongue against his lower lip, begging for entrance and he allows you easily. Your body lights up, feels like you’re on fire when he grinds just barely on top of you. His thigh between your legs presses against your center and it makes your head feel heavy, falling apart beneath him. Steve’s like a drug and you’ve been sober for far too long. Your desperation makes you feel antsy, you want things to progress much faster than they are but Steve is stubborn, he sets the pace. He’s different than any other man you’ve been with, he’ll kiss you until your jaw hurts and you’re trembling. That seems to be his intent now because when you try to pull away from it, he grabs your jaw and kisses you harder. You whimper against his lips, wriggling your hips to demonstrate how badly you need him.

Steve pulls back and smiles down at you, stroking his thumb along the apple of your cheek, “You’re so beautiful.”

You flush, grinning from ear to ear as you avert your eyes, unable to hold eye contact. With a giggle you tell him, “So are you.”

He lets out a small, breathless laugh, “Thank you.”

Steve places kisses along your jaw and down your neck, he licks against your skin but he’s always been careful not to leave any marks. Back when you two were fooling around regularly, you weren’t so careful with him and you’d litter his neck and chest with love bites. Steve could always explain them away much easier than you could.

He continues kissing against your collarbone as he starts unbuttoning your shirt. You inhale sharply, goosebumps rising all over your skin when his fingers brush against your now exposed stomach. Steve’s lips descend once he gets your blouse completely undone, brushing them against the curve of your breast. This is the area he doesn’t hold back, sucking and biting gently at the tender skin until it’s raw and sore. You know you’ll have a bruise there by the end of the night but you don’t mind. It’ll be proof this isn’t a dream. In sync, you prop up on your elbows as Steve leans back and reaches around to unclasp your bra. You dispose of the blouse and bra before reaching for the hem of Steve’s polo and pull it over his head. You smooth your hands over his head before he leans down and licks at your perked nipple, his Bambi eyes looking up at you curiously. You whine, arching into the touch as your eyes flutter shut. For a moment, you picture blonde curls and blue eyes but quickly push the thought away as shame begins spreading through your stomach. You try not to think about it too much, not willing to admit even to yourself that you want Billy in that way.

“Steve,” you pant out, for good measure.

He sucks your nipple between his lips as he hand moves to squeeze and knead at your other breast. Another moan falls out of your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut and knit your fingers into his hair. He grazes his fingertips across your neglected nipple and laps against the other. It’s intoxicating, you focus on his soft his hair feels between your fingers. Your thighs tingle as heat surges through your stomach and straight to your core. It’s quiet in the house, in the room, the only sound is Steve’s mouth on your and your paired labored breathing.

When he moves back up to crash his lips into yours and press his body close, you feel his cock hard in his jeans against your navel. He grunts softly against your lips moving both his hands to grip your jaw as he licks into your mouth eagerly. This is unlike Steve, he usually doesn’t express desperation until he’s already inside of you. It gets your hopes up, like maybe he’s been missing you just as badly as you’ve been missing him. And maybe that’s wishful thinking but in this moment, you’ll take it. You grab onto his waist and writhe up against him, letting him know you’re just as needy.

Steve pulls back from the sloppy kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips as his hands lower and he’s making quick work getting your jeans and panties down to your ankles. They hang awkwardly there, your tennis shoes are still on but you're really liking the frenzy of it all. Steve props himself on his knees and does the same with his jeans and briefs, pushing them down to his knees as his long cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. God, you’ve missed the sight of it, your mouth waters as you breathe heavy. Memories of the way it felt in your mouth flood your mind, causing your hips to jerk up in arousal and Steve smiles down at you, clearing taking the movement as a compliment. He circles his hand around himself, pumping a few times before dragging his head through your folds.

“Steve…” you moan out slowly, another surge of wetness flowing out of you.

“Yeah?” he breathes out, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes look glassy. It’s such a pretty view, you wiggle against him.

“Need you,” you admit, shyly.

He licks against his bottom lip before rubbing his tip against your fluttering hole, “You been with anyone else since me?”

You shake your head, knowing the reason behind his question, “I’m clean.”

Steve nods, his hair bouncing with the movement before he sinks his cock inside of you. You gasp out, grabbing onto his bedspread while you melt at the sensation. It’s been way too long. You’re tight, haven’t had anything stretch you out since the last time you had Steve like this. He grunts softly, eyes squeezing shut as he slowly sheathes himself completely inside you.

“Oh,” you moan out, feeling him fill you out in the most delicious way. You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to watch the way Steve’s face contorts in pleasure as he stills his movements. He grazes his fingers up your sides as he lowers himself, his chest flush against yours while his lips find yours again. The kiss is languid, matching the stroke of him between your legs. It’s sensual which is typical from Steve but a stark contrast to the short foreplay. It takes your breath away, regardless. He pulls back an inch, panting against your lips as he rolls his hips deeper, running his hand down to hold onto your hip.

You try to spread your legs further, but the clothing around your ankles makes it difficult. Your hands scratch down his back and you arch your back, moving your hips to chase your high. Steve grunts out and then bites his bottom lip hard, moving his hips faster and more wildly than before. It’s exactly what you need as the pressure building inside you is pulled taut, you’re so close you can almost see it.

“Fuck me, Steve,” you whine out and he makes a pretty, needy sound that has you reeling. It was the type of sound that was the reason you’d always loved going down on Steve.

He rocks his hips into you harder and faster, pulling out little breathy moans from you as you cling onto his back.

“You like that?” he pants out, his hair bouncing with every thrust and you nod up at him, eyebrows furrowing as your orgasm looms closer and closer.

You press your palm against his cheek and he kisses you deeply, smoothing his hands up and down your sides as he moves against you. The kiss pushes you over the edge, a sharp cry flooding out of you as you climax around him, your walls fluttering around his dick and Steve starts making the familiar sounds, desperate and whiny little noises. He pulls out of you quickly, spilling his load over your stomach with a strangled groan. You hum happily, eyes dancing across his gorgeous face. He stuffs himself back in his pants and walks over to his hamper, grabbing a shirt and walking back over to wipe his mess from your navel. He pants as he does it and when he moves away again to dispose of the shirt, you pull your clothes back on.

“You want me to just drop you at home or back at school?” he asks, his eyes everyone but on you.

“Home is fine,” you say, trying to hide the way your heart is splitting yet again from Steve Harrington.

The car ride there is awkward and when you’re a block away, you notice Tommy and Billy’s cars parked on the street.

“Just drop me here,” you say softly and Steve pulls over. As you get out, he leans over and grabs your wrist. You kneel down and lean back in the car. He kisses you gently and then smiles awkwardly at you.

“I’ll see you later,” you say before shutting the door and slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

You walk up to the front door, noticing as Steve makes a u-turn and heads back in the direction of Loch Nora. Tears are threatening to break free but you will them back down, stepping inside the house and waving at Tommy, Billy and Carol as they’re lounged on the couch, watching music videos. You close yourself in the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hair down and fixing your makeup. Once you feel you’ve calmed down enough, you make your way back out to the living room and very nicely ask Billy if you could bum a smoke.

“I’ll join ya,” he says, standing from the couch.

Tommy moves to follow but Carol grabs his wrist and pulls him back down, leaning close to whisper something and he looks like he’s about to protest until she starts kissing his neck. You make a face and lead Billy out the back door. You sit down on the plastic furniture and graciously accept the cigarette he hands over. Billy pulls out his zippo and lights it for you. Seeing him, unfortunately, eases the way your heart aches. Deep down, you know Billy would do the same thing Steve just did to you but you try not to focus on that. You feel ridiculous that you thought things might be different this time. It’s obvious that you’ve always been an easy lay to Steve and it hurts that you’re still that.

“How was the library?” he asks as he lights his own cigarette.

You shrug, “Really exciting at first, until it sucked.”

“So what’s his name?” Billy asks, smirking up at you as he exhales the thick smoke.

You blush, dropping your head before replying, “That obvious, is it?”

Billy lets out a big, belly laugh. It’s a nice sound, you want to make him laugh over and over.

“I can always tell when a woman’s had an orgasm,” he quips, sliding his tongue out almost obscenely along his lower lip. It’s insane how quickly he’s making you feel better, no matter how blunt he is.

“Yeah, well, his name isn’t important because the whole thing,” you gesture your hands in big circles, “wasn’t important to him.”

Billy inhales sharply, gritting his teeth, “Well… speaking from experience… ‘cause I am one so.. yeah, all guys want the same thing.”

You curl your lips down in a frown as you chew over his words, deciding you’re not much better than Steve because you went along with it for the same reasons. You wanted to fuck him and shit, you got that.

“Sometimes,” you giggle softly, bringing the cigarette up to your lips, “Girls are after the same thing.”

The blonde laughs again and you wanna breathe it in, wanna taste his laughs and his lips and his whole body. He’s different than Steve, physically rougher around the edges which makes him that much more interesting. Exotic maybe. His hair doesn’t look nearly as soft as Steve’s, not nearly as cared for. You’d seen the Farrah Fawcett spray in Steve’s bathroom and you can guarantee Billy doesn’t use the same thing.

“I’ve seen my fair share of that,” he agrees, “but I think a big difference is once guys have it once, they don’t want it again but girls do.”

“Or they want it again when it’s easy,” you point out, reaching over to snatch the beer from his hand and taking a big gulp from it.

“Beware of those assholes,” he says, raising his eyebrows and looking at you seriously.

You groan softly, “I was trying to stay away from him.”

“Who is it?” Billy asks, curiously. “I won’t tell.”

“But you so will,” you gush, bringing your hand to your face, “It’s premium gossip.”

“You think I’m that type?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow up.

You turn to him, “This is juicy. It’s be hard not to tell people.”

“What? Harrington?”

Willing your face to remain still, “No.”

Billy scoffs, “King Steve. No way. That is something.”

“It’s not Steve,” you seethe, though you know your face is giving it away.

He chuckles softly and grabs the beer back, “Your secret is safe with me but uh… you could do better.”

Billy gets up from the chair, tossing his cigarette before walking back inside.

#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy x steve x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x hagan!reader #simmer down

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weird-an · 1 year

Text

There is a crossroad just outside Hawkins, where corn grows so high it's hidden from anybody's view.

Blood runs down Billy's temple and his head pounds like Neil didn't stop hitting him. Neil who found his Mandate magazine and went fucking crazy.

Billy can't go back. Billy can't go back or he's going to get fucking killed. By his own father. He had never seen Neil so angry - and Neil has always been angry, but not like that.

He has thought about it for a while. It's just some make belief, some hocus pocus, but Billy needs a miracle. He doesn't wear shoes and pebbles tear his holey socks apart. He just grabbed the box and ran.

It's eerily silent. Almost midnight - he thinks. He doesn't have a watch. He digs through the ground with his bare hands. He buries the blue box he stole from Max in the hole. It's a jewelry box she never uses. He has gotten a bit of dirt from the local graveyard, a cat bone from a school's exhibit and an ugly photo from his last school in California where he had to smile while his back was still aching.

A fat drop of crimson blood drips on his fake smile. He wipes his forehead, before he can remember that his hands are dirty.

He stands up. Nothing happens.

It's a cold night. His breath forms little clouds, floating into the night. The moon is gone, waiting to get reborn. An endless circle of birth and death.

"What a surprise." Steve Harrington stands behind him. Same as usual, wearing a pastel blue and pink polo shirt and his ever perfect hair fluffy and only slicked back a little.

"Billy Hargrove needing help?" he scoffs - and it's almost as if they were on the court and not on a crossroad, about to make a deal. "Wanting to gift me his soul?"

There's a red shine in his eyes, but more in the way that it seems like a reflection.

"You're a... demon?" Billy asks. Maybe that's some stupid prank. Maybe that's an explanation why Harrington is so unearthly pretty. "And you're going to High School?"

And sucking at it, is something he doesn't add, but he knows how many classes Harrington is failing. Tommy won't shut up about it. He would have rather expected Hagan to be a fucking demon and not Harrington who now gives him a goofy grin.

"Oh, well..." Harrington says. "Let's say I made a deal a few years ago and then I unfortunately died early."

There's a headline Neil had read out loud to them before they moved here. About a girl, Barb Holland, being thought dead for three weeks - and then rising from the dead, ringing at her parent's door like she just went out to buy some milk.

"God has blessed this place," Neil had said. Apparently Hawkins is about as cursed as Billy feared it is.

"Enough about me." Harrington tilts his head. "What do you want?"

To live, to be free pops into Billy's mind, bright and colorful like a rainbow.

Billy thought about it a lot. First he thought he wanted his dad dead. So that he can never touch him again, so that he doesn't have to be afraid anymore. But if Neil dies, he doesn't have a father or a mother.

The thought is a dark shadow, making him sick.

"I want him to stop hurting me," he says instead. It won't heal the scars, it won't unbreak his bones, it won't make it forgotten, but maybe more bearable. It's what he wanted when he was five, when he turned ten, what he wants to today and what he always wished for whenever saw other people blowing out the candles on their birthday cakes.

Harrington's eyes flicker to Billy's bloody mullet and his dirty socks.

"You need to tell me his name," he says, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I'm just a demon, not a mindreader."

"My dad," Billy grits out. "Neil.. Hargrove."

There is pity crossing Harrington's face, something he has always been afraid of, but it's gone within seconds, maybe only been a shadow and gets replaced with a red glow, irises more crimson than hazel now.

"Let's seal the deal." Harrington smiles, teeth shining white. "You know how we do it, right? Your soul for me doing you a favor."

Billy heard the stories. Billy didn't expect to become a part of them. Billy doesn't think he has a soul and if he does, it can hardly be worth anything.

Harrington smells like expensive aftershave and smoke.

Billy presses a kiss on Harrington's soft lips. It's a rush, a relief. He feels something shift, something clicking into space.

Harrington laughs into the kiss. "The deal is already done, Hargrove."

Which means Billy's soul is Harrington's now and Neil won't ever hurt him again. The blood on his temple dries. The cut on his scalp stopped throbbing, there's only a faint sting reminding Billy of its existence. He feels like he just jumped into the ocean on a hot summer's day.

He licks across Harrington's mouth, hungry for more.

"Greed and lust are sins, Billy." It almost sounds like a compliment.

Billy's throat turns dry and he wants to pull away, humiliation burning away the cool calm that has begun to spread inside his chest.

It's just a deal - and that's closed now.

Harrington tugs on his bottom lip, sharp pain joining the sweet sensation.

"If you ever feel like sinning, come and find me," Harrington purrs -

and then he's gone. Billy stands on the road, lips tingling, still smelling Harrington's aftershave on him.

He walks home. It's one of these nights when spring is about to fade, summer's heat lurking around the corner. Still cold, but not that he's shivering.

Cherry Lane is deserted, a few lights flickering when Billy comes home. The door is open. He doesn't hear Neil shouting at the TV.

He washes the blood off his face and goes to bed. He wonders if he can dream without a soul. He wonders if it's working. His lips burn and he still feels Harrington's mouth on his.

#okay I love a good old crossroad deal and I wanted to indulge a tiny little bit #and what do you think will happen? how will steve make it work? I already know ;)#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy #crossroad demon! steve #tw child abuse

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earthtoharlow · 7 months

Text

Faux Love

This was supposed to be easy, right? Pretending to be in love with my best friend, just to satisfy our families’ constant nagging about us getting together. After all, we know each other inside out, every quirk, every flaw. We could easily slip into the roles of a couple without missing a beat.

But as we share knowing glances and laugh at each other’s jokes, I realize that our friendship has always been the foundation of something deeper. It’s as though the love was already there, quietly simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself….

“Hi, can I get a venti, half-caff, non-fat, extra-hot, caramel macchiato with three pumps of vanilla syrup, please?” Jean asked, pulling out her wallet for some cash.

“Name?” The man behind the counter asked.

“Jean Louise.” She replied, handing him her cash.

He shook his head at her before nodding behind her. “It’s already been taken care of.”

She followed his line of…head nodding and saw the gentleman who paid for her drink. The man was tall, hair was cut into a mullet. A curly one at that. He wasn’t looking her way but the way he was smirking and pretending to flip through a magazine, confirmed he was the one who paid for the drink.

“Hi, I’m Jack.” He said, extending his hand for her to shake as she stood by the counter to wait for her drink.

Jean ignored his hand and began texting on her phone. She responded without looking up at him. “Jack? That’s kind of boring, don’t you think”

Jack grinned, feeling a surge of confidence at her comment. “Actually, it’s short for Jackman,” he corrected her with a playful tone.

“Jackman? Now that’s more interesting,” Jean replied, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“So, Jean Louise… would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Jack drawled, Kentucky accent coming out full force.

Jean stared at him for a moment, really taking him in. She first noticed his lazy eye that she couldn’t help but find endearing. He stood in front of her nervously running a hand through his interesting looking curly mullet. He was attractive, very attractive.

“The hottest tea we have for Jack!” The man behind the counter yelled out.

Jean couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as he grabbed his tea and took a small sip. Jack smirked before holding the tea out, offering some to her.

“No, thank you.” Jean laughed, pushing his hand away.

“What time should I pick you up tonight?” He asked with a big smile as he leaned against the counter.

That damned smile.

“A very complicated order for Jean Louise!” The man behind the counter yelled out.

“Ok, Jackman.” Jean said, grabbing her drink and a napkin. “If you can find out where I live, then you can take me out at 7pm. Thanks for the drink!”

Was Jean being kinda rude? Probably but she was nowhere near ready to be in a relationship. And she wasn't a big fan of one night stands. She was 26 for crying out loud! She was done with that. Jack was very attractive though…

***

It was around 6:30 when Jean heard her buzzer go off by the front door, she sighed as she had just sat down on her couch, getting ready to rewatch Gossip Girl for the 20th time.

“Yes?” She called out pressing the button.

“Uh, it’s Jack!”

“Jack who?”

“Man? Jackman, I mean. I know I’m a little early but I gave myself extra time just in case I got lost. I’ve actually been driving around since 6:15 but I didn’t want to seem like a weirdo for arriving so early.” He rambled against the speakers.

“How the hell did you find my location?!”

“You were in such a rush to leave that you left your wallet at the cafe, so being a good samaritan I opened it to find your address and return it. Also, are you going to let me in? It’s starting to rain.”

Jean was too shocked to do anything but buzz him in. She then ran down the hall to her bedroom to find something to wear.

She wanted something that said “I’m not a whore, but I’m not a virgin either.” Not that she planned on having sex with Jack. She was actually going to tell him that they should just be friends, after enjoying this free meal.

She threw on a little black dress, because you can never go wrong with that. And began quickly applying on makeup so that she looked alive.

Jean ignored the knock on the door, Jack could wait a few more minutes. It wasn’t until she heard thunder that she decided to go open the door.

When she opened the door, Jack stood there with that damned smile holding out her wallet for her to grab. Jean grabbed her wallet before walking back to her closet to find some heels to wear.

“So, where are you taking me? I’m starving!”

***

As Jean sat across from Jack at a private bistro, she couldn’t help the feeling of skepticism creeping into her mind. Jack was charming, and everything was going too well. He was different, refreshingly so. She felt more comfortable with Jack than she had with any guy before. Jack seemed to genuinely care about what she had to say. It was weird.

“So, your name?” Jack questioned as he offered Jean a helping of his pasta. Jean opened her mouth and let him feed her.

“Yeah, my mom was really big into literature. Her favorite book is To Kill a Mockingbird. My brother's name is Radley.” Jean explained tracing a finger around her glass.

“I love that, hm I’ve never met a Scout before.”

“Well, Jackman. I can guarantee I’ll be your favorite.”

With each passing moment, Jean found herself slowly lowering her guard, allowing herself to enjoy the conversation and appreciate Jack's genuine interest in getting to know her.

After spending the rest of the night talking, Jack dropped Jean back home, walking her to the front door. What shocked Jean the most was that he didn’t lean in for a kiss or ask to come inside. He just said goodnight with a hug.

Maybe she judged Jack Harlow too soon. Of course she knew who he was. He might as well be the mayor of Kentucky. He was nice and seemed like a genuinely good person.

It was a shame she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend right now.

***

AN: New Series!!!! Let me know your thoughts 💋

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #fake dating #fake dating fic #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fic #Jack Harlow oc #faux love

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bananasofthorns · 10 months

Text

lunch break

read on ao3

In a rare stroke of luck - or, more accurately, bureaucratic alignment - Cody has leave at the same time as Wolffe, and they manage to talk Fox into taking a break for once in his life to join them for lunch.

Cody also uses the opportunity to finally make good on his promise to Kenobi to introduce him to his batchmates in a non-professional setting - Dex’s, in this case. He hasn’t yet decided if he’s going to regret this decision. Wolffe already knows Kenobi, to an extent, and they at least seem to like each other. Cody thinks that Fox and Kenobi will either despise each other or get along like a LAAT on fire, on fire part emphasized. Reason: they are both pains in Cody’s ass and he, unfortunately, still loves them.

He and Kenobi arrive at Dex’s early and claim a booth in the back; they sit across from each other and Kenobi allows Cody the seat that faces the door, since he has the Force and Cody just has paranoia. Wolffe arrives a minute or two late grumbling about traffic. Cody graciously does not make fun of him for being unable to account the hell that is getting anywhere on Coruscant into his travel times.

They make small talk - about the war, of course, because what else do any of them do with their lives - while waiting for Fox. After ten minutes without even a hint of his presence, Kenobi orders them a large basket of fries. Cody gets himself a milkshake and then resigns himself to the losing battle of keeping Wolffe away from his straw.

Wolffe could ask Dex for his own straw, or even his own milkshake. He does not, because Wolffe is an ori’vod and a bastard. Cody respects Dex too much to start a fight in his diner, but he resolves to make Wolffe spar with him once they’re back in the barracks.

It hits minute fifteen with no sign of Fox. Cody shares a look with Wolffe. They reach for their comms in sync.

If Fox does not respond to their pestering by the time it reaches minute twenty, they will write him off as a lost cause and enjoy lunch without him.

Minute eighteen arrives. There is no response to either of their messages, but there is a flash of familiar red through the windows of the diner’s door. Two flashes, in fact. Cody raises an eyebrow.

Fox and another Coruscant Guard commander that Cody doesn’t recognize slip into the diner with surprising stealth, given that they’re in full armor and there’s a bell above the door. Cody scrutinizes them as they approach.

They’re both limping, though the unfamiliar commander only slightly; Fox’s is much more pronounced even as he tries to hide it. When he reaches their booth, he lifts his arm gingerly to remove his helmet.

Wolffe greets him with, “What the fuck happened to you?”

This is a fair question. There is a large bandage plastered across the right half of Fox’s face, stretching from just beneath his eye to his chin. The rest of his visible skin is so bruised it looks like he went hand-to-hand with a commando droid.

“He got mugged,” the unfamiliar commander offers when Fox stays silent. “I’m Thire, by the way.”

Thire takes the seat beside Kenobi and leaves Fox to the fate of sitting next to Wolffe. He has a mullet, but he makes it look good, so Cody doesn’t hold it against him.

Fox sits, reluctantly, and finally graces them all with the deadpan scrape of his voice. “He’s my babysitter.”

Thire’s smile is as sharp and bright as a vibroblade in sunlight. “Yes. Sorry for joining your lunch without notice - we had to make sure Fox wouldn’t get into any more fights along the way.”

“This was not my fault,” Fox growls.

It is, obviously, an old argument. Kenobi interrupts before it can begin again.

“We’re happy to have you,” he says. “Have you been to Dex’s before?”

Thire blinks at him. He does not comment on the unusual presence of a Jedi in their midst, unlike Fox had, many times, when Cody had first broached the topic. Even now, Fox does not seem very pleased that Kenobi is here.

“I’ve had his food a few times,” Thire responds, which is a non-answer. Cody has become very good at noticing them in his time working as Kenobi’s right hand. “It’s good. This is the real reason I went with you,” he tells Fox.

Fox, eloquent as ever, flips him off.

Dex arrives to take their orders. He greets Fox and Thire with familiarity and does not comment on Fox’s injuries.

When he leaves again, Wolffe keeps the ensuing quiet from stretching into awkwardness by turning to Fox and saying, “I'm serious, vod. What in the depths did you do?”

Fox waves a hand. “Blacked out. Woke up on the lower levels. Got jumped. They got in a few lucky hits,” he gestures to his face, “before I killed them.”

“Just a normal Centaxday, really,” Thire adds faux-cheerfully. “What about you guys? What have you been up to? Besides the war, of course.”

The change of topic is not graceful. Cody exchanges a look with Kenobi. Kenobi raises an eyebrow. Cody raises one back: no, it is not normal for Fox to show up looking awful - this awful, at least. Something bigger is going on here.

“You blacked out?” he asks for both of them.

“It's fine,” Fox dismisses. “Happens to everyone at some point, right?”

He is full of shit and he knows it. Cody tells him so.

More diplomatically, Kenobi adds, “I am curious by what exactly that turn of phrase means, at least in this instance. I’m sure you weren’t drunk, but just to be clear—”

Thire laughs. Fox sighs. “I was not drunk.”

The two of them look at each other and proceed to have a conversation that consists entirely of facial expressions. Gone are the days when Cody could do that with his batchmates; they don’t spend enough time together now, and the only people he can read that well anymore are Rex and Kenobi. He has no idea what Fox and Thire are saying to each other.

Finally, Fox says, casually, “I’ve been losing time since about six months into the war.”

All of Cody’s attention snaps to him. The war has now been ongoing for over two years. This is not what he was expecting to hear at all; Fox has never even hinted at it before.

“Ah,” Kenobi says delicately.

“And you’re just mentioning this now?” Wolffe asks with far less grace.

“Well, I kind of hoped the problem would go away on its own,” Fox shoots back dryly. “Clearly, that didn’t happen.

“I started losing time six months into the war,” he starts again. “A few hours, a day. A few days.”

“The worst one was over a week,” Thire inputs quietly. Fox acknowledges him with another dip of his head.

“Every time, I’d wake up somewhere on Coruscant, usually in the lower levels, with no idea how I got there. If I had all of my gear still on me, it was lucky, and if I was uninjured, it was even luckier. After a few months, I realized I wasn’t the only one this was happening to.”

“It’s all of the commanders,” Thire explains. “Fox and I have them the most often, followed by Thorn. Stone only gets them rarely.”

“So that’s why you look so bad,” Wolffe surmises.

Fox chuckles, low. “Yeah. Woke up way further down than I should’ve been with half my armor gone and in the middle of some natborns kicking the shit out of my body.” He scoffs. “They should’ve made sure I was dead first.”

Cody, Wolffe, and Kenobi all grimace, though the latter’s expression is likely for very different reasons.

“You said you killed them to get away?” he asks. “How many of them were there?”

Fox frowns. “Not sure; it was all kind of a blur, and my memories are always shit after blackouts, anyway. Five, give or take.”

“And you killed them,” Kenobi repeats. “All of them?”

“Yes.”

Wolffe shakes his head, somewhere between fond and amused. “Of course you did, Fox’ika.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Fox and I were the top of the entire command class on Kamino,” Cody explains for Kenobi’s benefit. And, as much as he hates to admit it, “He graduated with the highest score in hand-to-hand combat sims.”

At peak condition, a handful of natborns would be laughably easy for him to take down. This time, he was injured and disoriented and obviously paid the price, but Cody still isn’t the least bit surprised that he came out of that fight on top.

“I see,” Kenobi says, nodding. “You must be a very formidable fighter.”

Fox smirks. Somehow, it just makes him look tired. “I am.”

There’s a rumble of that old, bitter anger in his voice. He hadn’t been happy to find out he’d been assigned to Coruscant instead of the frontlines they’d all trained for their entire lives. Clearly, his opinion has not improved.

Wolffe clears his throat. “Do you know what’s causing the blackouts? Because they sound a little fucked up, vod.”

Thire and Fox exchange a look.

“Well,” Fox says, and then does not elaborate.

“We have...theories.” Thire glances around and lowers his voice. “As far as we can tell, the blackouts only happen after one of us has a meeting with the Chancellor.”

Well, indeed.

Dex sweeps over with their food. They all gratefully take the excuse to process what was just said. Kenobi looks like he’s bitten into something sour, but the expression fades as he takes the first bite of his nerfburger.

In the awkward conversation lull that’s arisen, Thire adds, “I think Palpatine is a Sith.”

Cody jerks his head up and stares. Kenobi chokes.

“Oh?” he manages, strangled.

Wolffe recovers first. “That’s a pretty fucking big accusation.”

Thire shrugs. He and Fox are both eating like they’re starving; Cody takes another, closer look at them and notes the sharpness of their cheekbones. A warning bell pings belatedly in his head.

Kenobi has recovered his dignity. “Yes, it is. I assume you have evidence, or at least suspicions, to back it up?”

“I’ve been around Sith before,” Thire explains between bites. “I was there on Rugosa when General Yoda stopped Ventress from assassinating the Toydarian king. I know what they feel like. The Chancellor feels the same way.”

Kenobi’s raised eyebrow betrays his incredulity. “Forgive me for presuming, but as far as I’m aware, none of the clones are Force-sensitive.”

“This is true.”

“So how is it that you can sense the Dark side on Chancellor Palpatine when none of the Jedi ever have?”

“Maybe he doesn’t bother shielding himself around us,” Fox mutters. He doesn’t look up from his food even when everyone’s attention swings to him. “Trust me, he drops all his other facades, too.”

Thire scoffs. “Yeah. He hates us and he’s not subtle about it. Stone jokes that he’s getting off on our misery.”

He seems to remember who he’s talking to and grimaces. “Uh. Sorry, sir.”

Kenobi does not seem to register the apology and has abandoned his food entirely, lost in thought. Cody passes him a napkin before he can press his fingers to his temples and get grease in his hair. He nods absently in thanks.

“A Sith controlling the Senate,” he murmurs to himself, with an expression like he’s connecting several dots and is severely unhappy with the picture they make. “Well, then.”

Louder, to Thire, he continues, “You do realize I’m going to need something more substantial than your word if I’m to bring this to the Jedi Council.”

Thire and Fox look at each other. Another wordless conversation commences. Wolffe, meanwhile, turns to stare at Cody; what the fuck? his raised eyebrows ask. This, at least, is not hard to understand. Cody shrugs back.

This is not the kind of bonding between the two sides of his life he had anticipated. He is honestly not sure if he’d prefer the possible-friendship possible-immediate-hatred or the sedition.

“I could just shoot him and see what happens,” Fox finally says.

Cody sighs. Wolffe presses a hand to his face. He has never looked more like an ori’vod.

“Please don’t,” Kenobi says, pained. “That could go incredibly badly if you’re wrong.”

“We could ask,” Thire suggests.

This is only marginally better than Fox’s idea.

Cody turns to Kenobi. They have done stupider things before and ended up with perfectly satisfactory results.

“I’ll turn on my helmet cam,” Fox adds. “Is that good enough evidence for you?”

Kenobi pauses and then shrugs like it hurts him to do so. He does not say no. The great negotiator has run out of will to argue; Cody never thought he’d see the day.

<><><>

It is less than twenty-four hours later that Thire, Fox, and a third Coruscant Guard commander that Cody doesn’t know come stumbling up the steps of the Jedi Temple. Thire is clutching Fox’s helmet against his chest. The third commander is carrying Fox himself and yelling for a medic.

Cody does not personally witness that spectacle, but he is there a few hours later in the chamber of the High Council when Thire gives his report. The third commander - Thorn - is with Fox in the Halls of Healing, having refused to move from his sentry position by Fox’s bacta tank. Cody hasn’t even seen him yet, with how quickly the Council meeting was called; all he knows of his batchmate’s condition is how long the list of injuries is.

“Sir, have you heard of the Sith?” Fox’s voice, distorted slightly by the recording, asks.

Palpatine chuckles. It sends chills down Cody’s spine in a way it never has before. The holo wavers, once, before Thire gets control of the shaking in his hands.

“Of course I have, Commander. Who hasn’t, in times like these?”

“Are you one of them?”

It is times like these that Cody both curses and loves Fox’s bluntness. Naked shock flashes across Palpatine’s face before he can control his reaction; the mask of the kindly old man does not return. The Jedi murmur at the poisonous anger in his eyes.

The recording stays steady. Thire does not shake, and neither does Fox, even in the face of darkness.

“An interesting question indeed, Commander. Let’s make sure you don’t remember it.”

Lightning bursts forth from his outstretched hand. Fox falls. The recording glitches and cuts on the edge of his scream.

It is only years of training that keep Cody from flinching. Thire’s knuckles are white on the helmet when he lowers it back to his side.

“Is that enough evidence for you?” he asks quietly, looking at Kenobi but directed at the Council entirely. Yoda’s ears droop. “Sirs?”

It seems it is. Cody has never seen the Jedi Council formulate and mobilize a plan so fast.

Fox is still in the bacta tank, but they let Thire take his slugthrower. The questions have already been asked, and he shoots first.

The Chancellor - the Sith Lord - dies quickly and loudly.

Afterwards, the Force is lighter than it has been in decades, or so Cody is told; he can neither confirm nor deny it, but the war is over, and he imagines the foreign joy he feels at this realization is a similar sensation.

#commander fox #commander cody #commander thire #star wars #the clone wars #tcw fic #banana made a post #banana writes things #this is very goofy i like it a lot

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nothingbutnowhere · 3 months

Text

Hockey player au! John "Soap" Mactavish headcanons

Note: extremely suggestive of ghoap and a little hint of ghoap x reader if you are so inclined to read it that way (she/her used)

...

Defenseman. Loves getting dirty in the d-zone corners, double teaming opponents and getting his stick in there, but still good at penetrating the o-zone and he's not afraid to drop down and hammer it in. The puck that is. (these are all things I've heard on broadcasts of NHL games, the innuendos that the play by play guys use are insane).

Menace! Absolute fucking menace!!! Mean bastard on the ice, intense in the locker room during games. Sass and tough guy act during media availability, all part of his rugged charm. But practice with the boys? He gets silly. Watch out! You could be getting pranked.

Backcheck, forecheck, paycheck. Heavy hits along the walls, BIG open ice hits, and killer hip checks (my personal favorite). Throws the type of hits everyone is always arguing about on twitter 🙄 He can be found in front of the net pushing and shoving opponents around. If you want a stick in the back he's your guy. Many, many a player has ended up in a headlock, getting a face wash after the whistle. On the shorter side for a hockey player which broadcasters always bring up but you'd never know by just watching him on the ice (they just hate a short king (anything under 6' is short in the NHL)).

He'll fight anyone, including the refs because that was a terrible icing call he absolutely had the guy beat! No he was onside! Tripping?! He dove!

Constantly dropping the gloves and getting into trouble. He'd be an enforcer if he wasn't a damn good player too. It's a good thing the players union keeps the fines low.

There's a whole YouTube page dedicated to his fights and hits with paragraphs of arguments on the legalities in the comments.

Scar on his chin from a skate cut during a game. Very scary in the moment because it bled a lot. Needed a ton of stitches but no major damage.

Has more points than you'd think for a non-offensive defenseman. He really is good in the corners and swiping pucks off sticks, popping them out to the offense. Many goals have been scored by a Soap takeaway and a stretch pass to spring Gaz for a breakaway.

He'll tackle his teammates during their or his celly. He really truly cares about the boys. It's evident in the way he plays, how intense he is on the bench, and the helmet kisses. Wait, what? Yep, hockey players will sometimes show physical affection via helmet or even a kiss on the cheek. Not often, but it's all very sweet 🥹 Drives hockey twitter wild.

Chews on his mouth guards like they owe him money and he can extract it by destroying them.

Oh, you wanna fuck with Ghost? You're gonna have to go through him first. Will go feral on a guy for so much as breathing in the direction of his goalie. Ghost appreciates him very much. Probably. The bond between a goalie and his defensemen is so special, something you'll hear (in not so many words) from Soap himself. At the end of a win he'll have the longest head bonk to Ghost. Saying what? We'll never know cause neither of them will ever be mic'd up.

I say this for Gaz too but THIGH. This man's thighs are tree trunks. Rucks up short shorts on purpose. For the media. And the guys. Ask twitter and they can provide many examples.

Mic'd up status: You cannot. Under any circumstances. Mic this guy up. You'd have to bleep the whole thing for broadcast. Shorsey levels of explicit, he's gotten unsportman like conduct penalties for it. He and Gaz are a dangerous duo when it comes to chirps.

Hockey hair status: Excellent. Mohawk is 10/10. Starts a new trend with the kids. Absolutely does warmups without his helmet to show off the flow. (Could also see him with a mullet 100%). Ends up with so much facial hair during the playoffs

Roster pic: kinda bad :( why does he look surprised? Why is his face so red? His hair is fucked up?? They didn't even fix his trademark look?! Where the fuck did they just pull him from to take this photo??? (I love when players have shitty roster photos idk it's so funny to me)

WAG status: only recently in a serious relationship. She's sweet and pretty, instantly good friends with the other WAGs and taken under their wing since this is all very new to her. Surprisingly, has dark hair (most hockey WAGs seem to be blond??). Posts a lot on social media, generally seems to be having a great time. Always seems like Ghost is in the background of pictures of her and Soap? Hmmm.... Don't ask twitter about that.

...

I do NOT consent for my works, part of my works, or my ideas to be used for ANY form of AI.

More hockey au: Ghost | Soap | Gaz | Price

Note: WAG stands for wife and girlfriend or the plural, used to refer to sports guy's significant others. Yes it is heteronormative.

A/N: I didn't factor nationality into this. There have been very few Scottish-born NHL players and all of them were raised in Canada. Do with that what you will. I'll never actually write fics for this, but I have headcanons. I know a moderate amount about hockey and next to nothing about cod so apologies. Completely unserious. Just some silly little thoughts :) plus letterkenny reference!

#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #ghoap #hockey au #my writing #letterkenny reference

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ryescapades · 2 years

Text

comfort | haitani rindou

— in which you were feeling overwhelmed with everything that has been happening in your life.

character(s): bonten!haitani rindou (tokyo revengers) x fem!reader, a hint of ran x f/n

genre/warning: intended lower caps, swear words, mention of blood and killing, slight🤏 angst, some uses of pet names, ooc rindou probably, comfort, fluff

a/n: oh look another comfort fic 🤔 what a surprise haha ..😀🚶‍♀️ anyways HWHDHSH majority of the stuff in this fic is a self insert bcs ive been in a slump lately so yea enjoy :)

the city was bustling; the sounds of vehicles driving about and pedestrians chattering filled the ears of the two men walking side by side as they exited from the back door of a flower shop.

one of the them, the mullet-haired man sighed, swiftly tucking the gun back into the back of his pants as he wiped the last bit of crimson on the inside of his dress shirt, hidden by his suit jacket from prying eyes.

meanwhile, the taller of the two squinted his eyes at the brightness of the sun rays while he spoke on the phone, “yes, we’ve finished taking care of everything– shut the hell up, sanzu. i can still hear you from here,” the man rolled his eyes, a hand went up to rake through his short, out-of-style lilac hair. “alright. we’ll see you there, boss.” at that, he ended the call.

turning to his younger brother, ran was about to call out for rindou who was still busy making himself look like the two of them didn’t just kill a man (they did, but no one needs to know that anyway) when suddenly a smaller body bumped into the latter.

“oh shit, i’m sorry–“

“fuck, what the–“ rindou didn’t get to finish his curses when the person who ran into him, a girl, pointed her finger at him. “haitani!” she exclaimed.

holding in his chuckle, ran watched as rindou resisted the urge to twitch his eyebrow in annoyance when the brothers finally recognized the girl. “oh, aren’t you y/n’s little friend?” ran voiced out what was passing through both their minds,

this time, your friend, f/n was the one who resisted the urge to twitch an eyebrow in irritation at the older sibling. “yes, i am. it’s f/n if you already forgot. anyway, have you heard from y/n?” f/n looked to rindou, her voice switched to a more grave tone as she went straight to the point.

the mention of you got rindou straightening up. “no? why, did something happen?” he asked, his low-lidded eyes stared at the girl.

to outsiders, the man might look nonchalant and relaxed but ran noticed. ran noticed how his brother turned rigid, the pair of eyes that matched his sharpened and voice turned slightly lower with a hint of concern laced underneath it.

f/n grumbled, “that’s the thing! i’ve been trying to reach out to her for hours but she never responded. we are in our finals week after all and you know how she gets during times like this so i’m kinda worried if something happened to her.” she said, shoulders drooping.

rindou furrowed his eyebrows. of course he knew you’ve started revising for your exams; he even got your schedule remembered so it wasn’t such a surprise when you began to contact him less these days.

he even ignored the way your texts have been a little dry as of late, thinking you were just busy with your studies so you probably didn’t have time to reply to him that much like how you always do.

he’s also been occupied with bonten work that the two of you rarely spend time together in the past few days. truthfully, he felt like even he hasn’t heard from you for ages despite the few texts you two shared here and there.

rindou tried to pay no heed to the gnawing feeling inside his chest.

because if something did happen, surely you’d tell him.

..right?

“haitani? haitani~” f/n’s voice calling him went from one ear and out the other as he furrowed his eyebrows further.

“you do know there are two of us here, right?”

“huh? bro, obviously i wasn’t talking to you,”

ran laughed. “did you really just bro me?” he shook his head in slight mirth before turning to rindou, eyes turning serious as he inspected the younger man.

“try calling her, rin.” he suggested, knowing the conflicts going on in his brother’s head.

rindou brought out his phone, immediately going to his contacts to search for your name. he pressed the phone to his ear, waiting as he listened to the sounds of rings beside his ear while f/n bit at the edge of her nails in anticipation.

two rings. three rings. four. almost five, then it went to voicemail.

rindou’s grip on the device in his hand tightened.

you never missed his calls.

sure, you missed f/n’s calls and even his texts sometimes but no matter what it was; you were sleeping or even in the toilet, you never failed to answer him. not even once throughout your whole almost 2 years of relationship (it is indeed due to the fact that you’re in love with him but no, you’re not gonna tell him that obviously).

“i’m going to see her.” was the last thing he said before he turned on his heels towards the direction of your home.

“whoa, wait wha–“ ran was about to question his brother’s rush but he didn’t get the chance as rindou already sprinted off without so much as glancing back, leaving only with a “aniki, tell mikey and the others i’ll catch up with you guys later!”

a few seconds after he left, ran turned to f/n.

“the offer to take you out on a date still stands by the way–“

f/n groaned. “bye, ran.”

===

it’s spinning. everything around you was spinning.

you dropped the pen you were holding and ran a hand through your hair, a whine almost coming out of your mouth. “fuck, i hate this.” you cursed out, staring at the textbook on the coffee table where you got yourselves sat on the floor.

feeling like you can no longer comprehend the contents, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back on the couch. you felt your heart constricting.

no, you have to continue. you have to pass this or you won’t graduate. or you won’t get your degree and you won’t have anything else going on for you, why were you here anyway, you’d feel worthless and, and–

the sounds of heavy knocks at the door broke you out of your stupor, making you flinch. furrowing your eyebrows, you wondered who could be at your door in the middle of the day.

you exhaled and stood up, realizing tears were pricking at your eyes. “get yourself together, y/n.” you mumbled, shaking your head a little to try and remove all possible presence of unsightliness that were caused by the previous breakdown you just had.

walking up to the door, you called out a short, “hold on!” before gripping the knob to pull it open.

the person you saw at your doorstep was not what you expected.

“r-rin! what are you doing here?” you stumbled over your words, giving him a smile which looked almost like a grimace with how awkward it was. you moved your arm that wasn’t on the door handle behind your back to put it out of his sight.

to hide the fact that it was shaking. to hide the fact that you almost had a mental breakdown like the many times you had before for the past few days. that you have been crying days and nights worrying about your grades. that you had thoughts about wanting to end it all so many times. that you haven’t been properly taking care of yourself. that you can’t remember when was the last time you had your last meal. when was the last time you talked to someone– anyone, even?

rindou didn’t say anything at first, only standing there with an incomprehensible look on his face. his low-lidded lavender eyes stared at you, making you fidget slightly on your spot.

“did you need anythi–” you didn’t get to finish your sentence when the man took a step towards you, entering your household as his hand went to close the door behind him. you weren’t expecting him to suddenly move that you stumbled a few steps backward, the wall colliding softly with your back.

“rindou?” you asked, voice breathless and cheeks slightly flushed when you realized he was standing close, so close you could see the specks in his beautiful eyes, so close your lips almost touched his.

rindou’s hands reached up to cup your face in both of his hands, fingers touching the corner of your eye and his guess was right. it didn’t look like it but the skin there was swollen to the touch. you were crying. and he wasn’t there. he frowned at the thought, noticing the heavy eyebags, slightly messy hair, your meek voice, the way your body was a bit slumped earlier.

you looked fucking terrible. and yet the first thing that came into haitani rindou’s mind was the fact that you still looked pretty as the day he first laid his eyes on you.

the gentle hold rindou had on you made you lean further into his hands, seeking their warmth. you watched him with a slight confusion, still wondering why he came over to your house without notice. the silence had a weird feeling to it, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either so you took the chance to bask in it.

a minute passed between the two of you when suddenly rindou spoke, breaking the silence.

“you’ve been so strong, angel.”

you tensed. his deep yet soft voice hit you like water breaching through a dam, and that was all it took for you to finally break down. to finally let go of all the stress and intrusive thoughts running through your mind, tears pooling up in your eyes.

you cried. and cried. and cried.

rindou held you in his arms, a hand keeping your head on his sturdy chest as you gripped the front of his shirt tightly, not even caring about the specks of blood because right now all that mattered was that he was there for you, keeping you close as if to hide you from the cruelty of the world, of his world.

===

you resisted the urge to cringe away in embarrassment.

“m’sorry for ruining your shirt..” you mumbled, voice hoarse from all the crying as you stared at rindou’s tear-stained clothes.

at the time the two of you were laying on the couch with you sitting on his lap sideways. rindou shook his head. “never mind that. you should really take a break sometimes. hate the way you look thinner now.” he said, voice gruff.

“i know, but i still have so many stuff i don’t understand and my first paper is like, in two days–” he cut you off with a half joking grunt, “why study when you can just become my personal little secretary,”

you chuckled, heart warming up at the possibility of being close to him almost every second of the day. “i guess studying is the only thing i’m good at, rin. it’s the one thing i got going on for me.” you said, mindlessly playing with your boyfriend’s fingers.

he took hold of your fingers, not completely having your hand in his but that subtle hand holding was enough for the both of you. “that’s not true. you’re good at everything you do, though not perfect but still. you’re so good to me, baby. so good for me, you know that?”

you held in your snicker at how short his comforting words were, how they were so him but the breathy, deep murmur made you look up to him. your heart skipped a beat, almost tearing up again at the fond look rindou has on you. the way the tips of his ears flushed red made you fluster as well.

god, the things you were willing to do, the length you would go just to keep this man for yourself. to keep him as yours forever.

you hummed, head moving to nuzzle yourself back into his chest. “thank you for coming to check up on me, rin.”

i love you.

“anytime, angel.” he said, kissing your temple as his hand patted your head gently.

i know, and i love you too.

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e-yvin · 8 months

Text

Hargrove Threat — A Harringrove fic

Chapter 2. Like the piece of a puzzle

Billy Hargrove was tall, with blond curly hair in a tacky mullet. His skin is golden, kissed by the sun of his land. He has blue eyes, like the sea. Beautiful to look at, dangerous if you float carelessly in their dimensions.

Billy Hargrove is an alpha.

Billy smells like the sea, sunny summer days and something sweet. Steve can't say what.

Girls go crazy as soon as they see the Californian alpha. Steve doesn't understand.

It's not that Steve doesn't notice Hargrove's good looks, it's not that he doesn't notice that the guy smells good, that Billy is probably one of the alphas more...alpha, to ever set foot in Hawkins.

He notices.

He just doesn't let himself get carried away by it.

He can't let himself be carried away by it.

Not when Nancy is at his side, her alpha yet feminine scent enveloping him, her body so close and yet so far away.

He can feel Nancy's warmth.

He can feel her. Who is his.

He can't let himself be carried away by Billy Hargrove when what's his is right next to him.

. . .

It shouldn't have bothered him so much. Steve should have expected this, anticipated it.

One stupid question from a colleague and everything was crashing down.

. . .

Steve was sitting with some of his teammates in the cafeteria, eating and talking. Steve honestly didn't remember the names of many of them.

When you were a king you didn't need to remember who was beneath you.

And it wasn't that Steve thought so, he really didn't. It was just… he never spent much time with any of them, to really get to know them.

He didn't see why before.

“Hey, Steve!” A jovial and playful voice called him, a beta boy looking at him excitedly. He was new to the team, a freshman. “Aren't you at all bothered by the Hargrove guy?”

Steve frowned, not understanding what the boy was getting at. He had no reason to be bothered by Hargrove. Billy had been at school for less than three days, and had done nothing to him yet. Or to Nancy.

“I should be?”

The boy looks at him as if he were mad, stupid in some kind of way. And their table is suddenly quiet.

Steve immediately regrets saying what he said.

One of his classmates sighs and mutters something like: “Forget it, it's not worth it.” but the freshman ignores it, and continues.

“Well...I don't understand much either, 'cause...you know...but, Billy is invading your territory, isn't he?”

And then Steve understands.

Steve wasn't stupid. He had noticed how people around him were suddenly paying more attention to Billy Hargrove. How they watched with almost bated breath the alpha's movements.

He had noticed.

He just…didn't care.

And that was the bad thing.

Steve was slowly being pushed off his throne and he didn't care.

He should care.

He should be bothered. Should be furious.

But he wasn't.

And for some, it was so obvious that he wouldn't be. Steve is an omega. Omegas shouldn't be in a leadership position. Omegas weren't made for this.

And that was exactly why Steve should be furious.

Because he fought to be at the top. He fought to be seen with a minimum of respect. To be seen for who he was and not his designation.

But, Billy Hargrove is slowly pulling the rug out from under his feet and Steve doesn't care, he doesn't even try to fight it.

Steve feels his hands shaking, and he tightens them on his thighs. Digs his nails into his flesh until it hurts.

He lets his eyes wander around the cafeteria, looking for who he knows can calm him down. Who he knows that understands him.

He doesn't find Nancy.

His eyes are set in deep, clear blues, turbulent like the waters of the sea. And he loses himself because those eyes are staring right back at him.

Billy Hargrove is staring at him without the slightest shame. Measuring him from head to toe.

His blue eyes are dark and focused as the alpha analyzes the omega they call king around here.

Billy's face stretches into a smile, a dangerous one, with the slightest hint of fangs. It's a strange smile. Not happy, not genuine. A satisfied and condescending smirk at the same time.

Steve feels goosebumps and gets up from the bench as calmly as he can.

He leaves the cafeteria. Practically runs out of it.

That fervent gaze seems to follow his back for miles.

. . .

Steve feels watched. He feel eyes burning the back of his neck, all the time.

And Steve has learned not to turn around to find out who it is. He already knows who it is.

He doesn't have to turn around and look directly into the turbulent sea that is Billy Hargrove's eyes.

Because for some reason, Billy Hargrove keeps staring at him now. In every class they share. In the cafeteria. From the entrance to the departure.

Billy Hargrove stared at him even when Steve had his arms around Nancy.

Steve doesn't know what to think about this.

. . .

Billy Hargrove is trying out for the basketball team, and Steve doesn't really care.

The alpha looks strong. He will probably make a good addition to the team.

And Steve doesn't really have time to care about that. Not when his biology literally screams at him for attention.

On Monday, after the first class of the day, Steve excuses himself from school.

Reason; His heat is coming.

. . .

The next few days pass in a heated mess.

Steve is sweating, and he's aching, and between his thighs he's soaking wet.

Steve also spends many of those days crying. Crying and begging his alpha to be here. For his alpha to arrive soon. For his alpha to expel his heat.

His alpha never comes.

. . .

When it's Monday once again, his body is still aching. It's still aching and his scent glands are sensitive, but he puts his scent blockers on them and goes to school.

He's a little flushed in his cheeks, a little weak in his bones, but he gets up and goes to school.

Because he can't just keep not going. His excuse has already ended at this point.

And he needs to see Nancy.

His heart hurts.

. . .

Billy Hargrove fits into Hawkins school life like a glove.

Billy Hargrove is like the missing piece of the puzzle. And he plays his role as king spectacularly.

Billy Hargrove is handsome. Charming. Cool. Wanted.

Omegas and betas want to have him. And some alphas want to be him.

He's on the basketball team. He has people at his feet. He has a nice car. He is the image of an ideal alpha.

Steve tries to ignore all of it.

He doesn't care about the title of king, he doesn't care about the basketball team, he doesn't care about being wanted. The only person who matters in this regard to him, he already has.

So, he tries to ignore everything about Billy Hargrove.

He can't.

Every hallway he turns, Billy Hargrove is there. Every room he walks into, Billy Hargrove is there.

Billy Hargrove is there and is watching every step he takes. Like he's watching a fucking prey.

Steve's heart is racing all day. He doesn't know what to think about any of this.

. . .

Steve doesn't see Nancy all Monday. But he knows she came.

Nancy doesn't like missing school.

Steve's heart hurts more with each passing hour that he doesn't see his alpha. The omega inside him, still too close to the surface, is crying.

He feels rejected.

Steve…is starting to feel that way too. Even if he doesn't want to feel that way.

He hasn't seen Nancy all day and he feels bad. He feels horrible.

And the worst thing is that he doesn't understand why he feels that way. He never understood.

It will pass. Steve knows that.

Every other time he felt like this, it passed. With time.

Steve won't die if he doesn't see Nancy.

(He knows that. But it hurts. It hurts so much not to see her.)

(Steve really wants his alpha.)

#harringrove #omegaverse #stranger things #fanfiction

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chosoluv · 1 year

Text

Shameless

—

the cute boy in your art history class has a staring problem

—

jean kirstein x gn!reader

—

Content warnings - a college au written by someone who has NOT attended a college, mild swearing

——

Why were you even here? You had asked yourself that question as soon as you stepped into this this stuffy lecture room, where your intro to art history class was being held.

Its a twelve week long course over the duration of your summer break. Whilst your friends were spending their days on vacation in places like Rome, you were spending your time here.

‘But my friends won’t finish their degree as fast as I am.’

That’s what you told yourself at least. Rational for someone regretting their past choices.

But hey, it’s one more class off the checklist of requirements for your major. Plus, from what you have been told by your upperclassmen, the class was quite easy, and the professor was a nice guy. So really, maybe it’s not all bad.

What those upperclassmen failed to mention was that the professor was boring as hell. Sure, he’s nice and all that. But being pleasant doesn’t keep you interested.

When your fate had really started to settle in. You’d hoped that in the coming days you are able to atleast claim a seat by the window.

Maybe you can pick up a hobby like bird watching.

—

The class was no doubt held in a room predating your grandparents. A fact that would most definitely annoy you in any other setting, actually brought you immense joy. The age of this particular room and the size of this particular class allowed for there to be a warm window seat open to your satisfaction. One of the few pleasures you enjoy in this oh so cruel world.

You were basking in the afternoon sun, when suddenly there was something that actually caught your interest in this godforsaken class. Actually, “someone” might be the better phrase to use. This someone wasn’t present in the previous lecture you had attended, and you would know, it would be hard to miss him.

He was tall, had a brunette mullet, and hints of a beard growing on his face. He was utterly gorgeous, anyone attracted to men would undoubtedly consider him their type. Though sadly, he sat in the row behind you, making it almost impossible to shamelessly ogle at him.

—

A window seat was open once again when you had arrived to class this afternoon. The sun was high in the sky, beaming through the windows. A very pleasant occurrence indeed. With the sun on you, maybe today you could daydream about enjoying your days in Bali.

Your professor always posted the lesson for the day after each lecture, a kind gesture for anyone who wasn’t able to attend the class that day. But really this only encouraged people to skip out on the class altogether. You would’ve also been apart of this group if not for the development during your last class.

Sadly, once again, he had sat in the row behind you. Making it physically impossible for you to shamelessly stare.

But today you could say you were more brave, around ten minutes into the lecture you decided you would take a quick glance behind your shoulder, hoping you could save the memory of his face for the rest of the duration of this class.

However, when you did that, not only did you notice his beautiful face, but you also noticed him staring at you. Not only that, when you caught his gaze he didn’t even look away, it seemed like he stared even harder after.

Huh?

Maybe he was challenging you to a staring contest.

Well poor him, he’s not getting one. You sure as hell weren’t going to crane your neck to stare at him.

That’s what you would’ve said it you were a quitter, and momma didn’t raise no quitter.

So you, quite childishly might I add, turned around and and stared straight into his eyes. You even squinted to appear as intimidating as possible.

And you want to know what this asshole did right after?? He had the audacity to smile at you before turning his attention back to your professor. The gull this guy had. He challenged YOU to a staring contest, before immediately quitting when you accepted his challenge.

Oh how much you hate his pretty little face now.

—

The next time you came to class there was something odd on the window seat you had claimed as yours. A drawing of you with a number scribbled on the back and a signature from someone named “Jean kirstein”. A name which you hope belongs to the cute boy in your art history class.

——

A/n - sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes, it’s proofread but something could’ve slipped through the cracks idk. Also I’m not too sure if I’m completely happy with this stories ending, so I might add a part two in the future, especially if y’all end up liking it!

Thank you for reading <3

Masterlist

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #aot #aot fanfiction #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirschtein x you

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custardcrazy · 1 year

Note

A Ted jealous fic pleaaaase! reader and/or him being jealous, or both, whatever you prefer :)

tenaciously uptight

summary: for the longest time, you thought you were the only jealous one. but soon, you realize your feelings for your best friend might not be so unrequited. (gn!reader)

wordcount: 4.3k

A/N: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT OH MY GOD. thank you for requesting. im so sorry. please let me know if there's any glaring errors i barely beta-ed this

You were aware that your best friend wasn't the most observant guy, but seriously; he was completely and utterly unaware of anything even slightly related to romance.

After all, he never noticed whenever anybody sent longing glances in his general direction. He never picked up on any hidden intentions when people batted their eyelashes at him or asked for his phone number. And he certainly didn't understand the fact that most, if not all of the people who wanted to hang out with him or just spent time with him in general found him attractive. How could they not? A tall, broad-shouldered golden retriever who didn't have a mean bone in his body was repulsive to few.

However, you knew him very well and his self-esteem … was in the gutter. For many reasons, most of which were a certain individual parent who you preferred to leave unnamed. And that was mostly the reason why, even though he could pick up on whenever someone was flirting with someone else, he couldn't get a clue when somebody took interest in him.

Even though you were very patient with him, and appreciated him dearly, sometimes you wished that he would just get a single clue. You were used to being the one who watched from afar as he was flirted with -- as girls shamelessly looked him up and down and pretended to be interested in Van Halen or Kiss (pun not intended) in order to segue the conversation to more intimate topics. It wasn't anything new, but you still couldn't stop the thing with claws and fangs which tore at your chest whenever it happened.

You knew that you couldn't do much else, even when you had felt something for Ted since the sixth grade; which was funny to look back on, because he was always asking for a spare pencil from you, and somehow, when you were twelve, that was cute. Ever since he hit his growth spurt, you'd been dealing with the immeasurable amount of jealousy that came with having feelings for a boy who was sometimes oblivious to the extent where it seemed he was blind.

There had been a couple hints here and there over the time that you'd known him. That maybe he reciprocated all of the mishmash of stuff that you harbored for him. It wasn't enough, though.

(Were you really going to ruin everything you had over an awkward hand brush that one time at the movies?)

Nowadays, you both worked at the Pretzels 'N' Cheese booth in the mall, which was an excellent strategy for being able to hang out while simultaneously earning money. And it was true that your clothes always picked up the smell of cheese and stayed that way until thrown in the wash, but it was worth it. Way better than working at American Eagle, which always attracted the catty middle-aged ladies. At least you could pacify them briefly with an excessively salty pretzel.

Since it was summertime, there were more than enough mall-goers looking for unhealthy snacks to waste their money on.

Occasionally you saw people you vaguely knew from high school, in various states of panic or otherwise. It was weird at first, but you'd gotten used to it. Today was no exception.

Tyler McClellan (who had somehow been in all of your English-related classes) hadn't changed much. He was still blonde, mullet-ed, and smiled too much, but it was better than him just being plain rude, so you didn't mind.

What you did mind was the way he was leaning over the counter towards you, acting as if Ted wasn't there at all.

"So, uh," he said, grinning like he was being real smooth. "Been a while. You come here often?"

"I work here," you answered politely. "Are you going to order anything?"

He ignored your question. "Y'know, you haven't changed in the slightest."

"Oh, cool." You tried again. "Can I get you anything?"

Yet another failure. "Kinda sucks that we're both bumming around San Dimas, huh? I've been thinkin' about heading down to the beach." Tyler ran a hand through his hair for the third time in the span of roughly two minutes. "Catch a few waves. Weather looks good." Wiggling his eyebrows in a move that would've only worked in a terrible romantic comedy, he leaned even closer -- if that was possible. "It'd be pretty dope if you could come along."

You snuck a look at Ted, seeing if he was possibly going to intervene or anything before you shut Tyler down; he met your eyes before quickly glancing away.

Huh.

Well, he'd never liked confrontation.

"I'm not interested." Keeping your tone clear, you sincerely hoped that Tyler and his hopeless baby blue eyes would go somewhere else and maybe flirt with Hannah who worked at Claire's instead. "Please. Do you want a pretzel or not?"

He looked at you for a moment, but you held your ground.

And finally, gradually, to your relief, his shoulders sagged, and that ever-present smile slipped off his face. "... Okay, okay." He straightened up, stuffing his hands back into the pockets of his jeans. "One pretzel. No cheese or salt. Please."

He paid in a couple crumpled bills, and slouched off somewhere else; not even bothering to say a simple 'thanks'.

Ted was still quiet.

"Um." Awkwardly, you looked over at Ted again after putting the money in the register and making sure you didn't give Tyler any extra pennies. "You okay? He's gone now, I think."

Your words seemed to shake him out of whatever reverie he'd entered while you were talking with Tyler. "Oh! Uh." His hand automatically flew up to scratch the back of his neck. "... Sorry, dude. Yeah, I'm good." Another weird thing -- he was religiously avoiding eye contact, where he'd normally be focused intently on what you were saying. You were skeptical at best as to if he was telling the truth, but didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

So you dropped it. "Alright."

For the rest of your shift, Ted was … tense? Stiff. He eventually eased up a little, once you asked him about his and Bill's progress on marathoning all of the low-budget slasher movies they'd rented, but there was still a hint of something there, in the way he kept fidgeting with his hands. Again, you didn't mention it. Maybe he was just uncomfortable because of Tyler's presence.

You couldn't blame him.

But later, when you were both making sure neither of the machines had leaked cheese onto the floor; he brought up the topic again.

"Dude, stop me if this is weird, or boundary-pushing, but… " He gently rolled his shoulders, as if he was shrugging off a jacket. "Did you actually wanna go hang out with that dude?" There was something in his voice that you were, unfortunately, familiar with. Vulnerability. But, unlike the other times, you couldn't exactly place why.

"Y'know, just wondering," he added.

You squashed your curiosity down in favor of a disgusted expression. "Ew, no way. I barely know him -- or knew him at all." Dismissively, you waved a hand. "He's not my type, anyway." The exact opposite of it, actually.

"Oh." He paused.

"I'm … gonna go wash my hands."

And with that, he practically darted off to the tiny employee closet, too fast for you to mention that there was no trace of anything on his fingers.

You stood there for a moment, bewildered at his sudden escape. Maybe he just wanted space or something -- but, still, you had absolutely no idea what was going on. It wasn't like he was hard to read. But you just didn't know why he was acting so … skittish.

Thankfully, when he finished "washing his hands", everything looked like it was going to go back to normal. He laughed aloud when you cracked a joke about that one time Bill spilled a metric ton of cheese on the floor.

About two minutes later, you were both sitting in the van. It was a short ride from the mall to your apartment, which you "shared" with an acquaintance who was basically never there. You didn't know exactly why, but you got the gist of it from the fact that she always came back either inebriated or hungover. At least she did her laundry.

Noticeably, Ted wasn't strained like before. Seemed like your admission concerning Tyler made him less nervous. He let you fiddle with the radio for a little while before settling on a channel.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot you liked this kind of music, dude!" He beamed, having to shout over the sound of the wind whistling through the window; the air-conditioning had been busted for the longest time. "Stellar!"

It wasn't too long until the van pulled up outside your apartment complex. Making sure your keys hadn't fallen out of your pocket, you hopped out. Just before you shut the van door, you offered a smile to Ted.

"Thanks for the ride. See you later."

"Wait!"

You paused. "What?"

He still had a hand idly on the wheel, but you noticed he was clutching it a little tighter. " … We're still on for tomorrow, right?"

Right. Every Friday since forever had been movie night. He didn't often clarify it with you, since it was an unspoken thing. Even if Ted's memory wasn't the best, he always remembered.

You gave Ted another curious look. "Yeah. Of course."

"Cool."

There was an awkward pause, before you filled it in again. "Cool. Uh, yeah, see you." Shutting the van door, you didn't linger long before walking up to the door of your apartment complex, mind whirling a little faster than usual.

If you claimed that you didn't think about Ted's behavior later in the evening, when you were shoving some leftovers in the oven or when you were getting ready for bed, then you'd be a huge liar.

The next day was uneventful at best for the most part, since it was your day off. You were usually a bit antsy before hanging out with Ted, nothing out of the ordinary for sure. But this time, there was something else alongside the typical restlessness. Not being able to specifically pinpoint what this something was made you even more restless, which wasn't fun.

At around seven, the familiar van pulled up. You'd already been waiting -- summer evenings in San Dimas were nice and cool, unlike the unrelenting heat that arrived in the afternoon.

Bill waved at you from the driver's seat, rolling down the window. "C'mon!"

He was maybe a bit more of an aggressive driver than his taller counterpart, but the route to their apartment hadn't changed. As per usual.

"Dude." Drawing out the 'u', he smirked. "Listen. Ted rented a bunch of these cheesy forties movie musicals --" Bill snickered to himself, " -- can you believe it? Never in the history of mankind would I have expected a genre such as that one to be selected for our movie nights, much less by Ted."

"I mean, it's kind of a nice change from the terrible gory flicks you guys watch all the time." You were mostly indifferent as you watched houses and other assorted buildings cruise by through the window. "Well, yeah, still kind of surprising, though. But it's good to have a change of pace, right?"

Your mind abruptly conjured up an image of Ted dancing in a smart black suit and matching top hat, a la Fred Astaire.

"True," was Bill's thoughtful reply.

Luckily, just like the drive to work, it wasn't too long to Bill and Ted's apartment. The second you stepped in the door, you were engulfed by an aroma of incredible, delightful, microwave popcorn. Ted waved semi-wildly at you from his comfortable seat on the couch, already sinking into the horde of different, brightly-colored pillows. A large bowl of what you'd smelled earlier was sitting in his lap.

Without any fanfare, you walked over and plopped down next to him. He smiled brightly. "Hey!"

"Hey yourself." You reached over his lap to grab a handful of popcorn, and he moved the bowl a little closer to make it easier for you to do so.

A long sigh drifted over from Bill's general direction. "C'moon. Why do I always gotta be the one to put in the tapes?"

"No one said that you had to, dude."

"I don't see you getting up to help." He shot a look at Ted, who grinned innocently.

"I'm totally stuck under this most hefty bowl of popcorn."

Bill narrowed his eyes at you next; you just shrugged in response.

"You both suck," he declared, but moved to get the tapes anyway.

A bit later, all of your eyes were glued to the small screen, and all of the popcorn was pretty much gone. The first movie to be chosen was about halfway through, and still, the tune of the catchy titular song was stuck in your head. You had assumed that was the point.

"Do all babes fall for dudes who help them turn off the lights?" Questioned Ted aloud.

"It has to be more complicated than that," insisted Bill. "I have learned from experience that the process of woo-ing is not just. Like. Being able to reach up to switch off a chandelier or whatever."

"Right, but who knows?" You chimed in. "Some people really like acts of service."

"Acts, plural," came Bill's defiant assertion. "Nobody's that easy."

"I dunno, dude," chirped Ted. "I would be totally flattered if somebody turned off the lights for me."

"Well, yeah, you become deeply infatuated with various babes on sight," shot back Bill.

You were suddenly glad you had an excellent poker face.

"That's different," pleaded Ted. "You know, everyone has those sorts of things, right? Little crushes?" He sounded embarrassed. "Well, you can't really use that as an example! That is totally underhanded of you."

"You cannot deny the intense attraction and infatuation you feel for certain babes on sight," recited Bill solemnly. Suddenly, his focus was on you. "We both know that for sure. Right?"

"Uh." You faltered. It was the truth. But something inside you refused to accept it, which was both infuriating and yet another validation of your feelings.

"Yeah, I guess," you settled for. But you quickly added, "he's kind of matured since high school, though."

"That's what I'm saying!" Burst out Ted, and you were glad that the bowl was nearly empty, as he would've sent it all flying in the air. " 'Sides, Bill, weren't you the one makin' eyes at the sales lady at the record store the other day? You sure looked infatuated, all from the fact that she helped you to find that Ozzy record -- "

" -- even you admitted you found her cute -- "

"Dude, shut up!"

You let them bicker for a little while longer, until you couldn't hear the dialogue over their petty arguing. And then, an intervention was necessary.

"Okay! Okay."

They both fell silent, and you were glad. "Who cares if you're both easy or not. I think, personally, I would also be at least kind of flattered if someone helped me out with a chore or something. It's polite."

Bill just pouted, looking back at the television. Ted turned slightly to face you, looking curious.

"So … If a dude helped you with your laundry or something, would you take interest in him?"

You didn't interpret it as anything other than a genuine question.

"I mean, since laundry is boring, I'd definitely get a good opinion on him. It takes more than that for me to, like, seriously consider dating a guy." Like maybe always remembering your birthday, and giving you little special homemade gifts he made himself. Or like listening closely to everything you said. Or maybe giving you his jacket on a chilly day; disregarding himself even though you could see the goosebumps on his gangly arms, or …

Man, you had it bad.

Ted nodded in that distinct way of his. "Gotcha."

"Would you find it attractive?" You asked, surprising yourself.

He didn't seem bothered, though. Just a little sheepish. "I suck at doing laundry, you know that. So yeah, I'd probably be. Like. A little interested, at least."

"Yeah."

The movie was pretty good for the rest of its runtime, and there wasn't much conversation that passed between the three of you. By the time the credits rolled, you heard either of them stifle a yawn.

For a moment, all of you just sat there. Then, slowly you and Ted turned to look at Bill.

He threw his hands up in the air. "Are you kidding me?"

The rest of the night passed in a near-blur, and before long, Ted was rummaging through the cabinet of their tiny bathroom, looking for the spare toothbrush. Bill was probably already fast asleep; around one, during yet another dramatic tap-dancing scene, he'd dozed off, and it had taken a bit of effort to wake him up and get him to bed. He'd always slept like a log.

"So," you said, from your perch near the sink. "What'd you think of the movies? Better than Cujo?"

"Oh, dude, that particular film is an experience." He was crouched on the floor, but looked up in order to make eye contact with you. "But, I don't think I can compare 'em. They're too different -- all-American movie musicals versus B-movie slashers."

"True."

A few seconds later, Ted let out an 'aha!' as he found what he'd been so doggedly searching for. "Think fast!"

You fumbled for the neon green toothbrush he tossed at you, but managed to not drop it. "Thanks."

With a bit of effort, he got to his feet, then stretched; you politely averted your eyes from the way his old tee shirt rode up his stomach.

"What'd you think?"

Pausing from where you were squirting toothpaste onto the bristles of your toothbrush, you thought it over for a moment. "Pretty decent and enjoyable in general. Obviously cheesy at some points, but that's kinda the novelty of it all." You smiled. "It's not called the Golden Age for nothing."

"I agree wholeheartedly," he replied.

Strangely, he was lingering. Usually he just left you to do whatever you needed before you settled down on the couch, but even after you finished splashing water on your face, he was still by the doorway.

"Something up?" Turning to face him, you leaned back on the counter, ignoring how it dug into your back a bit uncomfortably. "Still thinking about that little debate with Bill over easiness?" You couldn't help but tease.

The combination of the late hour and the fact that it was just you two, in relative close proximity, made this feel intimate, almost; like you were the only two people on Earth. Since the apartment wasn't in the more populated areas of San Dimas, the only occasional sound outside was the revving of a car engine or the rare hoot of an owl.

"Well, kinda." Averting his gaze for a moment, his hand found a familiar place on the back of his neck, "but, um, not really. I just … "

You waited patiently, and he eventually picked up the sentence again. "I just wanted to, uh. Ask you another question."

"Why didn't you ask me earlier?" It slipped out before you could stop it.

"I … I didn't want to," he said, and you thought that was it, but then; "not in front of Bill. He would probably never let me forget it."

"Oh?" Both interested and nervous, you looked at him imploringly.

His Adam's apple bobbed. "Um. Yesterday, you mentioned that dude wasn't 'your type', and then like, a couple hours ago you said you liked acts of service, right?" He kept barreling forward. "So I'm just, like, curious -- "

"What is your type?"

Your first instinct was to find it funny. All that build-up, for a simple question like that? But then, the truth hit you; you couldn't be completely honest when answering it. And normally that wouldn't be a huge problem, but guilt was slowly creeping up on you. You never had lied to Ted, and you didn't want to start now, just to protect your own dignity or whatever. Disregarding the fact that Ted had somehow remembered a one-off comment you'd made, you hastily put together an adequate response.

"Well, uh," you started, "you know I'm not too picky, but what I really look for in a relationship is being able to support each other, no matter what. Always being there for one another. Always being able to remember what makes them happy and what doesn't." Exhaling slowly, you felt oddly … Exposed. "And being able to make each other laugh. That's all. "

He didn't respond for a few seconds, but then,

"Did you find him funny?"

You were caught utterly off-guard. "What?"

"Tyler."

Another case of avoiding eye contact, and you were worried.

"What? No!" Dumbfounded, you didn't notice that you were repeating yourself. "Ted, I told you that I wasn't interested in him at all. Why're you bringing him up now?"

"I just wanted to know," he said, shrinking in on himself a little, "you know, you could've said yes, he's real good-looking -- "

"Why does that matter?" Cutting him off, you shook your head. "I'm gonna answer that myself. It doesn't! He was being a huge creep, there's no way -- "

" -- I know you'd like to go to the beach, dude -- "

" -- no, I didn't, that'd be really inconvenient, you -- "

" -- you didn't have to feel forced to say no just 'cause of stupid outside factors, I saw you considering it -- "

"I wasn't!" You exclaimed.

Seeing the expression on Ted's face, you hurriedly reeled yourself back in, dropping your voice to nearly a soft murmur. "... I wasn't. Why don't you believe me?"

The silence was so thick, weighing upon your shoulders like a heavy blanket.

But instead of being comfortable, it was suffocating.

A beat longer.

"Sorry, sorry," he finally mumbled, "sorry, I got… Ahead of myself. Sorry. I do believe you, I swear."

"No, no," you rushed to fill in the gap, "no, it's fine, it's alright." You'd stopped leaning back, now at full attention.

Ted peeked at you from underneath his bangs, and you took that as your cue to continue.

"I'm just … I'm just confused. Why…?"

Your voice trailed off, but before you could pull yourself together enough to clarify what you meant, he spoke up instead.

"I'm sorry, just -- " your heart broke; you heard the emotion warping the edges of his voice, but before you could say anything once more, he interrupted.

"Just forget … all of this. I - it's nothing. Sorry. I screwed up, that's all." He turned away, but not before you could catch sight of his trembling hands.

"See you in the morning, dude."

No. Not like this, you couldn't let him shuffle off to bed like this. You'd known how many times he'd done that already in his life. You'd witnessed it firsthand; the way he always bottled it all up, acting as if nothing happened while that was anything but the truth. You couldn't let him turn away and act like everything was normal the next day.

You reached out, wrapping a hand around his wrist.

He stopped immediately.

"Please. I can't forget this, and I know if I try it'll just keep getting harder not to." He was still facing away from you, but you didn't let that stop you.

"We've never hidden anything important from each other, Ted. You know I'm always here for you." Maybe there was a hint of desperation in your words -- but you were, and you were on the edge of begging. "Please, I hate fighting with you. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

He didn't speak for a little while; but he didn't pull away.

Then, eventually.

"I thought I could handle it, like before, but this time I just couldn't."

Now, he was facing you, your hand still around his wrist; and now, your hand was in his.

You couldn't speak, but that was fine, because he was still talking.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, dude. But seeing him looking at you like that -- " His breath caught in his throat. "... I never could be so forward, especially not with you. But I think I gotta."

Was this really happening? You felt light-headed all of a sudden. Did you fall asleep during the movie?

But his touch was grounding.

You could feel the calluses on his fingertips.

"I'm," he began, voice trembling. "I've been. In love with you. For a really long time."

Floored.

Maybe you were dreaming. Your Ted wouldn't be looking you directly in the eyes, professing his feelings to you, the blush on his face clear as a bad vocalist underneath the ugly fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Your Ted wouldn't be still holding your hand as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Your Ted didn't see you as anything other than a great pal.

… Right?

Wait, no, your Ted was still talking.

"A - and I know this is really sudden and you're not obligated to return anything because obviously it's kinda awkward because we're best friends and it's gonna change everything -- I like everything, but -- "

If he could be so brutally forward, it was probably your turn to do so too.

"Ted."

His mouth snapped shut.

"Ted," you repeated, face flaming. "I love you too."

There. Years of feelings all expressed in Four. Simple. Words.

For a moment, he looked like a fish; mouth opening and shutting uselessly.

Then, you were pulled into a bear hug.

Nothing unfamiliar, but this time, it was somehow so much different. Automatically, your hands were around his neck, and his around your waist, and together you stood there for a while. Rocking a little. No words necessary to convey what you were both thinking.

Finally.

#ted logan x reader #ted logan x you #ted logan imagine #ted logan imagines #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #bill and ted imagine

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natriae · 1 year

Text

bonus #3

masterlist

1.8 words

angst to comfort

eight years after the end of another chance

Japan

Walking out of the small Japanese home that rested on the far side of Miyagi was a tall young man with long, straight olive hair. He had it cut in a slight mullet shape, but his mom insisted he got it so it wasn't completely a mullet. She called it a fancy mullet. His hair stuck up in several different directions while his purple and white uniform hugged his lanky body. Behind him ran out a four year old girl in a similar purple uniform, but with a small patch that read the kanji of 'Shiratorizawa pre-k" she had just kissed her parents goodbye and attempted to catch up to her older brother. However, before she could fall onto the sidewalk the taller man reached down and grabbed her just as she tripped over her own shoes.

"You need to be careful," Isa scolded the little girl. His voice now deep and gruff like his father's making it very easy for people to mistake him as Sakura's dad over the phone. He moved the little girl so she rested on his hip as he continued to walk the two of them to school. Her arms wrapped around the neck of her knight as she leaned her head down on his shoulder. Isamu was far too used to the neighborhood moms watching him be a caring brother and walk his sister to and from school, and had he been a normal teenage boy he probably would have tried to play with their hearts more and have his own personal MILF, but he had no interest.

School was over and he repeated the same routine making sure to buy his sister a small snack from the convenience store. She had chased him down the hill, tripping, but not falling flat on her face because her big brother was there to catch her. Most of these days he felt that taking care of Sakura was the only thing he was good at. His whole life he had felt like a bit of a disappointment even though his parents spent every second of their lives making sure that he felt like the most important person in the world. He just didn't quite understand. He had so many secrets he's been hiding from them. Would they treat him the same if he told them?

"Ani! I found your favorite!" Sakura shouted, trying to shove the drink in his hand. Had he been paying attention earlier he would have noticed the little girl trying to climb up the freezer shelves to grab the drink. The glass door swinging back, hitting her bum and knocking her back down. Isa giggled at the little girl thinking about how she's a mini you. Grabbing the drink from her he paid for their snacks and continued heading home. His heart calmed down as he held his sister's hand. She loved everything and anyone no matter what. At least if he didn't have his parent's love anymore he'd have hers.

"Tadima," the two children shouted as they walked into the house. Their parents, per usual, were wrapped up in each other's arms on the couch. Isa had dismissed them and walked into his room while the little ball of sunshine ran and jumped into both of her parents wanting to cuddle too.

" Sakura baby was Isa-nii being odd while you walked home today?" you questioned the small girl as you brushed some of her olive hair out of her face.

"ani is always weird," She responded while leaving a kiss on her papa's forehead. Since Wakatoshi has been retired she makes sure to leave a kiss somewhere on his face because she was told that only old people retire. She's worried that her daddy is getting old and won't be with her anymore even though you tell her time and time again that her papa is only 37 and her grandpa is close to probably 70. You continued to pet her hair as she began to fall asleep for her afternoon nap on her dad's chest. You glanced at Wakatoshi then Isa's bedroom door a few times until he finally got the hint. No matter how long the two of you have been parents it will always take a moment for his brain to load the data you're supplying him.

Once Wakatoshi put Sakura down he came out to see you knocking on Isa's door. From behind the sliding door you heard a small 'come in' from your more than normally grumpy son. His room was minimalist, but he still had it decorated with volleyball accessories. His prize possession being his dad's Olympic gold medal. He wanted it framed so that it would push him to work hard for his dreams just like his dad. Sliding the door just enough to pop your head in, you faced the young man sitting on his bed and asked, "can your dad and I come in."

The young man nodded his head as he remained reading some random manga about volleyball. 'Haikyuu' who would name a manga 'volleyball'? silly is all you thought. Walking in you took a seat on his bed and leaned your head on his shoulder. While Wakatoshi took a seat at his desk. You could tell he was uncomfortable by the situation. You would have been too. Both of his parents just slowly came into his room. They even knocked on his door and waited. If this was a normal day you would have knocked and then busted right in. Isa looked up at his father trying to piece together the situation as much as possible. But it was a lost cause because his dad seemed just as nervous as he was. Deciding to break the ice Isamu was the first to speak up, "what do you guys want?" He scrunched his eyebrows, turning his head to look at his mom. Clearly his dad didn't quite know what he was searching for.

"Okay, rude, but I'll let it slide. Your dad and I are worried about you,"

"dad seems confused,"

"oookay, I'm worried about you, but I promise you your dad is too, but I don't think he realizes we're talking about it right now," Your wakatoshi wasn't dumb per se but clearly the little man in his brain would shred any information label 'family problem'. It didn't matter how much he talked it through with his therapist; it was a defense mechanism.

Isa sat up a bit making you lift your head off his shoulder. He set his book down and attempted to read your mind. He saw your shoulders fall and your eyes glance over at his father. You were sad it wasn't hard to tell and it hurt him too. The last thing he ever wants is to see his mom sad "Isa baby, I'm just…," you took a deep breath in and continued, "I'm trying to understand or find out why you've been so distant lately. You haven't been looking happy lately…like more than normal." He watched as you fiddled with your fingers and your eyes scanned his whole face. This was really hurting you and he felt the tears prick at his eyes and the lump build up in his throat. He glanced quickly over at his father and tried to hold in the tears. Not once has he ever seen his father cry (he was not in the room when wakatoshi held sakura for the first time) and he wanted to be just like him.

Wakatoshi watched his son in pain and the moment he saw the twitch in his eye and the tremble in his lip when he glanced over at him he knew he needed to hold him. Standing up Wakatoshi saw you glance over your shoulder to see him immediately sitting on the other side of Isa and holding him close.

It's been so many years of the two of them finally being together, so many years of Isa calling him dad and playing with him, but not once have you seen the two embrace each other as they are right now. Isa may be 18, but right now he's just the 10 year old little boy looking for his father. Your heart cracked a little when you heard the first sob exit Isa's mouth. His arms were now wrapped around Wakatoshi's torso as he cried into his chest.

Noticing the tears build up into your eyes Wakatoshi brought one of his arms out to bring you into the hug as well. Wakatoshi brought his hand up to Isa's hair and began massaging his scalp while leaving feather light kisses on his head. For a few minutes the three of you sat there holding each other while Isa let all his tears out.

Pulling back from his father Isa whispered a few words though gasps and coughs. Not being able to hear him, you whisper a small 'what was that honey' as you handed him a tissue. After blowing his nose and taking a deep breath Isa looked to the floor and let out, "I think I like boys." His tears started falling again and a small whimper was let out after his confession. Looking down you noticed his hands were shaking while holding the wet, snotty tissue. Not caring about the germs you immediately leaned in closer and wrapped your hand in his leaving a kiss on his cheek. "Do you hate me now?" your little boy asked. How could he ever think that? Brushing some of his hair out of his face you smiled the best you could and brought his head into your hands.

"baby I will love you no matter what, okay?" You said through your own small tears. He brought your hands down and held them in his as he turned slowly to his dad.

"What about you?" he asked through voice cracks and a stuffy nose.

"I have a lot of gay friends," is all Wakatoshi said, shrugging his shoulders. Isa let out a laugh as you scolded Wakatoshi for his inappropriate comment. Isa wiped some more of his tears while his parents had an eye battle over his head.

"aw shit my contact fell out," Isa broke the silence. Glancing down you couldn't help but giggle a bit seeing his contact now in the palm of his hand. He got up to go change into his glasses when his father decided he must now list all his gay friends.

"Hinata, Kageyama, your uncle Tendou-"

"Tendou's gay?" you asked, completely unaware of this basic fact you should know about your friend.

"yeah he tried palming me once to get me hard… it didn't work,"

From the bathroom you could hear Isa sing himself 'Lalala' after hearing his dad's even more inappropriate comment.

Whispering into your husband ear you asked him a serious question, "you said you didn't do anything with anyone else while we were broken up,"

"I didn't technically. I never got hard." Wakatoshi responded in full volume.

If your son's singing could get any louder he somehow managed to do it.

tags: @mineta-phobic @rukia-uchiha-98 @ssc7514 @megumuro

i know i said only three bonus but i might just randomly update with bonuses

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