#you’ll enjoy things so much more instead of constantly digging your heels in about the first inclination you ever had

[queer-ragnelle]

Some people wouldn’t know good taste if it was spat into their mouths.

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

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“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[diavolosthots]

I don't know if I'm too late if so ignore this. Mc trying to take care of Lucifer. Like bringing him food and drinks, trying to make sure stuff is done in the house, stopping the brothers from bothering him.,thanks for reading my request and remember if you don't want to do it or I'm to late delete it.

You weren't too late at that time and I'm in a lucifer mood tonight so this is being done!

Also who else would like to try spicy hellburned chili now that i made it up? Because I do.

Helpful Hands (LUCIFER X GN!READER)

People always underestimate how much he does for this family, or at least he thinks so. They see mean old Lucifer who only ever bullies and is way too strict. They see the guy who has a patch of gray hair but should be way too young to have it. They see the Avatar of Pride who can’t bear to be defeated for the life of him. Sometimes they see a stuck up asshole who thinks of nothing but himself and occasional torture because he’s viewed as Mr. Sadist. The last part might be mildly true, but only on bad days and only to those who really deserve it. He’s heard it all, from both friends and foes alike, and of course his family. Even Diavolo scolds him at times, which that’s when he’s truly about to snap it because if it weren’t for the Demon Lord he probably wouldn’t be on edge all the time, but more on that later. The point is, though, that most, if not all, of those claims are fault. 

People see the surface level. They see what they want to see and they don’t dare to dig deeper. Maybe they fear him, maybe they’re just too warped in the idea that he absolutely hates everyone that they also turn to hating him. A “I do you like you do me” type of deal, but if they would just take the time… if they would listen and really take a good look at him… maybe they’d realize he’s just suffering. Everytime he gets mad at Mammon or gives a stern, “not now,” that’s him being overwhelmed. Or if his agitation shines through, it’s not because he’s truly annoyed, but because he knows they can do better. He pushes his brothers, absolutely, but only because he knows their true potential. He holds all this weight on his shoulders, for everyone, and instead of giving a small thanks, they ruin his day. It’s hard being the unwanted parent of six, but if he wasn’t, Hell would burn. Or, well, more so than it usually does. Diavolo adds to his work on the daily, and maybe that wouldn’t be such a problem, if he weren’t also the one distracting him from such work and then getting onto him for not having it done. 

It’s hard being him. It’s hard to be the responsible one because you feel like you have to; because you feel like you owe it to them. He blames himself, heavily, for everything that has happened, even though it was their choice to join him. He lays there at night, more often than he likes to admit, and asks himself the big “what if” questions. “What if I didn’t go against them.” “what if I let loose.” “What if I’m being too strict.” Never, ever will you hear him say these things. Pride, ya know? But you don’t need to hear those things because you do know. You see it in his tired eyes and slumped posture once no one is looking. You see it in the way he eats and his coffee outweighs his nutrients. You can tell every time his anger rises too quickly, although he deems himself the rational one. You know Lucifer, even if he thinks you don’t, and you feel bad for him. You feel bad that you’re the only one who seems to see how truly tired he is. How much of a shoulder to lean on he actually needs, and although you’d never dare just go up and offer it, because once again his pride still wouldn’t let him admit that, you try to acknowledge his needs in little ways. 

Coffee was ready this morning, Lucifer noted, but he brushed it off because maybe it was just Beel’s late night or early morning snack; maybe he wanted some? “The pot is full…” and he took advantage of that. Whoever made the coffee, and someone must have because it was still hot and tasted fresh, he thanks them. You smiled to yourself when you saw him with a cup, heading back to his office, “morning, Lucifer. Enjoy your coffee.” He had looked at you, blinking a few times and probably wondering why you’re so cheery this early in the morning, “Good morning, (Y/N).” but that was it. Well, not really. Next thing he knew was that lunch was already done when he arrived in the kitchen to start it. “(Y/N)? What are you doing? It’s my turn.” but you only shrugged, wiping your hands before grabbing the plates and heading out to the dining room to place them, “yeah but I was already down here and didn’t have anything to do. Don’t mind me, just come sit and eat.” He didn’t say it, and he didn’t need to, but he was really appreciative and he even managed a small smile when you passed. 

Those were isolated incidences, though, or so he thought. But now, little by little, he realized more and more things that he had never noticed before. The rooms were clean, or at least the ones he was in, the fridge and pantry was always stocked, even with Beel around, and he rarely ever got interrupted. Of course, he still heard the occasional arguments between his brothers; Mammon stealing the remote right as Belphegor was about to put sleepy time music on… seriously, why can’t the guy do that on his D.D.D.? Or Satan screaming at Leviathan who accidently tripped over Satan’s books in his room while lending him his headphones. Shocker on that one, right? Or maybe it was a disagreement between you and Beelzebub about which spices should be used in the Spicy Hellburned Chili for this wednesday night’s dinner. But all of these were minor and nothing compared to what he usually deals with. At first he was super suspicious though and would constantly check on everyone, but by day three he thought that maybe, just maybe, he had gotten lucky and he finally does have some peace. Spoiler alert: he did. He got way more done than he ever did. 

That, however, does bother him. He doesn’t know who or why they would do it and as much as he enjoys it, he would also like to have a discussion with them. His birthday isn’t for another couple of months so he knows that that wouldn’t be the reason he’s being treated so nicely, so what else could it be? Mammon would only do this for money and even then he’s pretty upfront about it and begs for it Lucifer immediately after he had done the task, so he’s off the table. Satan and Belphegor would rather die than help him, Asmodeus is too obsessed with himself and Leviathan is holed up more than he shows any signs of life. So, the only other two people are you and Beelzebub, both of which are very nice people and debatably the only ones who truly care about him. The last part is a joke, but you two show it more than others. “Was it you that has been helping me?” But Beelzebub just looked confused, half a bag of chips down his throat as Lucifer asked and something told Lucifer that he wasn’t it. “No, but did you need help?” With a shake of his head and a sigh, Lucifer turned on his heel to go and find you, but not before doing something else. 

“Come to my room, (Y/N).” he had said and for a moment you thought your whole plan backfired and his brothers annoyed him again, or maybe you had forgotten something in it? Were you not careful enough in your attempts to make his life easier? You haven’t even gotten to the best part! “I’m here…” you practically sprinted down the hall while trying to find an excuse for anything he could potentially say, but when he opened the door to let you in, all of those left your mind, “what’s up?” He didn’t look… mean, per se, but he looked stern like always and it kind of freaked you out. Did you do something wrong? Was the coffee not strong enough? You used the wrong spices for the chili, didn’t you? “Do you see this?” Lucifer’s finger pointed out and you followed it, noting it was pointing at his desk, “uhm…. Yes? Am I not supposed to see it? Wasn’t it always here?” “Yes, it has always been there. However, something is different.” You turned to look at him and then back at his desk. Was it new? Did he paint it? Is there a trophy on there you should be aware of? “Lucifer I can’t see--”

When you turned back around, he was holding out two glasses of champagne and a smile was, for once in what felt like forever, gracing his lips. “Exactly. It’s empty. You can actually see it.” he hands you one of the glasses, his smile never faltering, “I had an unusual amount of time this week thanks to a few… coincidences that just so happen to align with my schedule and make my life easier. I know it was you. You made my coffee that morning, and were kind enough to leave the pot. You took up my lunch shift on purpose, not because you were down there. You also took my dinner shift this week, and cleaned the house. I’m assuming you’re also responsible for keeping my brothers in line which is a miracle within itself.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head before reaching out his other hand and tilting your chin up, “I don’t know how or why… and frankly, I don’t want to know. It would ruin the fun of it, but I do want to thank you for it and seeing as I have nothing else to do tonight, or tomorrow, you’ll be staying with me.” You blinked a few times. You could feel your heartbeat speed up and for a moment you wondered what you had actually done, but also, how bad could this go? You had one more thing to give him, anyway. “Works for me. I have one more thing to give you, anyway.” You clink your glass with his before taking a sip, watching him raise an eyebrow while your own eyebrows rose up and your lips turned into a smirk. “Undress for me, Lucifer.” 

You hope he will agree to a massage. Lord knows he needs his shoulders loosened up. 

[intheticklecloset]

Hyena Laugh (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

We’re going back in time for this one! This takes place during the timeline of S1E1. You’ll see what I mean. Thanks for the cute suggestion; this prompt was really fun to work on! Lee Suga is so cute! Enjoy! ^^

~

“Hey, Suga, you good to lock up?”

No reply.

Daichi turned to where he’d last seen his friend. He was still there, leaning on a mop handle in the middle of the court, staring at nothing. Zoning out. He must be tired, Daichi thought as he approached the silver-haired setter. We did have a long day today.

Earlier that afternoon the two of them – plus Asahi, who had already gone home for the night – had traveled to watch the middle school volleyball tournament and scout out the up and coming players. Players that might be part of their team one day. The games themselves had been fairly standard; the thing that had really taken it out of the second-years was the actual driving to and from the event. They’d had to borrow Asahi’s family car for the day (hence Asahi going home earlier, as he had to return the vehicle), and being in that small space with each other for hours on end had gotten tiring.

“Suga?” Daichi tried again, gently putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You good?”

“Huh?” Suga turned, blinked. “Oh. Yeah, sorry, I can lock up.”

“Tired?”

“Not really.” There was a hint of something in his voice that tipped off the soon-to-be team captain. “Just thinking about the kids we saw today.”

Daichi nodded. “Definitely some talent out there.”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause.

“Anyone in particular stand out to you?”

Suga hesitated. “Well…there was that one setter, I guess. He seems like a natural. He’d be a good one to have on the team.”

“Yeah? So what’s bothering you about him?”

Sugawara didn’t even try to deny it. His shoulders slumped. “It’s just, if he – or any other setter, really – joins the team next year, I won’t get to play as much by default. And I really love playing. I’d…I’d miss it, you know?”

Daichi nodded. “Yeah, I know. I get it. But even if you weren’t on the starting lineup anymore, you’d still get to play some games before we graduate. And there will be plenty of practices, too.”

“I know.” Suga suddenly perked up a little, offering a weak smile. “Sorry. I guess it’s just really hitting me that we only have one more year after this. Then it’s over.”

“Playing volleyball never has to be over,” Daichi reminded him gently. “Just our time at Karasuno.”

“You’re right.”

“I hate to see you upset, Suga.” The future captain pushed him playfully, grinning. “Let’s see a smile before we call it a night, yeah?”

Suga offered a smile, but it wasn’t his normal, full, bright one by any stretch of the imagination.

“Nah, come on.” Daichi started poking his fingers up and down his friend’s side. “A real smile. Give it to me.”

“Hehehehey,” Suga chuckled, stepping back and using one hand to bat at the offending pokes. “Stohohohop.”

Instead, Daichi grabbed onto both of his sides and squeezed, making Suga drop the mop handle as he burst into giggles, grabbing at his friend’s wrists.

“Nohohohohoho, Daichihihihi!”

“Smile for me, Suga!” Daichi teased, keeping his grip firm but his touches gentle, making sure the silver-haired setter was constantly grinning.

“I ahahahaham!”

“Bigger!” The future captain suddenly tackled him to the floor, falling on top of him in an awkward heap before finding his belly and digging into the soft flesh with the tips of his fingers.

Sugawara shrieked, starting to let out loud, high-pitched cackles that sounded oddly familiar. It took Daichi a moment to remember where he’d heard the noise before.

“Dude,” he cried, grinning widely, “you have a hyena laugh!”

“I do nohohohohohohot!” Suga protested, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment. He squirmed helplessly on the ground. “Stohohohohohohop!”

“Do not stop? Okay!” Daichi laughed, slipping one hand under Suga’s shirt to scribble at his belly directly. Suga continued to shriek and cackle and writhe, but then he suddenly jerked and let out a loud yowl, startling the future captain enough that he stopped. “Whoa, what was that?”

“N-Nohohothing,” Suga said quickly, still giggling a little, trying to sit up and push Daichi away. “Let me up.”

“Nuh-uh. I want to hear that noise again.”

“Don’t you—nohohohohoho!” Suga immediately fell back onto the floor, his strength sapped out of him, and he dissolved into hysterical, hyena-like giggles again. “Ahahahahahahaha! Daichi, pleheheheHEEEEASE!!” For the second time he screeched, curling up on himself as much as possible, cheeks bright red at this point. “Nohoho, not thehehehere, please Daichi!”

“Not where?” Daichi asked, genuinely interested. He tugged Suga’s shirt up enough to reveal his small navel, then used a fingernail to scratch at it gently. The setter instantly broke into squeaky, desperate laughter. “Not here? Not your belly button?”

“Stohohohohohohop!” Suga pleaded. “Dohohohohon’t tihihihihickle me THEHEHEHEHERE!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

Daichi grinned as he slipped his pointer finger into the cute innie and wiggled crazily, watching with great amusement as Suga fell apart beneath him, flopping around like a fish out of water. “Ha! Sensitive spot?”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!” Suga cried, his laughter loud and pitchy and breathy and alternating between hyena cackles and squeals of mirth. “NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE, PLEASE!! DAICHI STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“But I finally got you smiling! It’s so cute that your belly button is your sweet spot. Such a tiny surface area, but it clearly tickles a lot, huh?”

Suga could not be more red. “STAHAHAHAHAHAP SAHAHAHAHAYING THAHAHAHAT!!”

“Saying what? That it tickles?” Daichi dug in a little more, using his free hand to scribble around the area. “That it’s a good spot? Both things are clearly true; I can’t lie to you, Suga.”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! S-STAHAHAHAHAHAP – AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Suga gasped for air so hard he let out a snort, which only made him blush harder as Daichi burst into his own laughter and kept tickling. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! DAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAICHIIIIIIII!!”

“That was awesome!” Daichi wheezed, straddling his friend’s thighs to keep him pinned in place. “Do it again!”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” As requested – though not by choice – Suga snorted once more, his hysterics growing now that he couldn’t move. His hands desperately shoved at his tormentor. “GET – GEHEHEHEHEHET OHOHOHOHOHOHOUT!! GET OUT PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!” Another snort. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Daichi had never, ever seen Sugawara laugh this hard or this genuinely. He was almost in a trance, watching his friend dissolve into desperate hysterics, laughing so hard his cheeks and ears turned pink, his eyes scrunched up, and he lost all sense of control as the tickling wracked his nervous system. It was incredible.

“Your belly button is super ticklish!” The future captain laughed along with his friend, thoroughly amused and warmed to the heart at the same time.

“S-STAHAHAHAHAHAP SAHAHAHAHAYING--*snort*--THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT WOHOHOHOHOHOHORD!! DAHAHAHAICHI, PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! *snort* PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Daichi was genuinely confused. “What word?” He finally showed a little mercy and removed his finger from Suga’s navel, merely scratching at his belly instead as he contemplated. As Suga gratefully gasped for breath, Daichi smirked. “Ticklish? You don’t like hearing the word ticklish?”

“N-Nohohohohot thahahahat,” Suga wheezed, still giggling, though seeming to have lost the energy to fight back at this point. “T-The other wohohohohord.”

“What other word? Belly button?” Color flooded Suga’s cheeks, and Daichi couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “You get flustered hearing the word belly button?”

“Stop,” Suga whined, covering his face with his hands. “Plehehease, you’re mahahaking it worse.”

“Aww, but why should I stop?” The future captain started swirling his finger around the tiny opening teasingly. “You can’t tell me you’re not having fun, Suga.”

The setter was clearly desperate already, giggling crazily and trying to cover his sweet spot, but Daichi kept pushing his hands out of the way. “I – I am, b-but…but please, Daichi, it really, really tickles there!”

Daichi smirked, slipped his finger inside again, and wiggled. Suga shrieked. “I can tell.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Sugawara pleaded, shaking his head and digging his heels in so hard his sneakers squeaked against the gym floor, trying to shove Daichi away from him but – failing that – beginning to slap the ground instead. “DAHAHAHAHAHAHAICHI YOU’RE KIHIHIHIHIHIHILLING MEHEHEHEHEHE!!”

Daichi laughed, but finally removed his hands from Suga’s poor belly entirely and climbed off of him. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

“M-Mohohonster,” Suga wheezed, rolling onto his side and curling up protectively, smile so wide it took up his whole face. “Y-You’re a…a monster! That was the worst!”

“Was it really?” Daichi asked, only half teasing now. For a split second he wondered if he’d honestly taken it too far, despite how big Sugawara was grinning. “Was it too much?”

“Yes,” Suga replied, still breathless, still beaming. “But you were right. It was kind of fun, too.”

“I, uh…didn’t mean to get so carried away,” Daichi offered, blushing a little himself, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s just, you reacted so well I kind of got addicted to it. Sorry.”

Suga finally mustered the strength to push himself up into a sitting position with a groan. “It’s all right. I’m not mad. Just – look, now that you know my weakness, you gotta use it against me sparingly, okay? I would say not at all, but…”

“But it was fun?”

“Yeah.”

“I promise I’ll only use your weakness against you when the situation is dire.” The future captain held up one hand and crossed his heart with the other. “Like, you know, when you bomb a math test or something.”

“What? That’s not a dire situation.”

“It is to me.”

Suga laughed again. His normal, everyday laugh. Evidently the other one was reserved only for when he was being tickled.

Daichi grinned. “Or, you know, when I need a reminder on what a hyena sounds like.”

“I do not sound like a hyena!”

“You really do.”

“I do not!”

“I mean, I can prove it again, if you want.”

“No!” Suga shoved him, smirking. “You’re so mean.”

“Yet you hang out with me anyway.”

“Some team captain you’re going to be.”

“I happen to think I’ll do great, Tickle Me Elmo.”

“Oh my god, do not start calling me that.”

“You have a better name?”

“My own name is fine, thank you.”

Daichi chuckled, leaning back on his hands, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “So, I take it you’re not bothered by that setter anymore.”

Suga looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “What setter?”

Daichi laughed.

[sakiyo]

━ # ONE A.M EYELINER | suna rintaro

+ pairings: suna rintaro/reader

+ tags: best friends 2 lovers, suna being a pretty mf, mutual pining, uni!au.

+ warnings: none

+ word count: 2.2k

+ summary: suna rintaro has never let you do his eyeliner, simply because he’s afraid to let you get too close.

+ listening to: FLESH by miguel & A Warm Touch of Light by Isabella LeVan

+ note: nothing but me rambling on about how pretty suna’s eyes are and how they’re pretty enough to deserve a whole fic dedicated to them. dedicated to my dom @kiyoomae​ i hope you enjoy babe because i finished this shitty fic for you <3.

“i could get hypothermia if i go out there, you know.”

working with suna always ended up the same way, there was no doubt about it. by the time that the clock plastered on your wall hit twelve-forty five a.m, the project was finished, but completely half assed as a result of neither of you paying enough attention during lectures to actually know what to do. yet, somehow, the same desultory assignment would always receive an undeserving ‘A-plus’. mostly because your professor never cared to actually observe the material, as long as it was in, it was good enough for him. [but you would grade it a solid 64 percent]

there's one variable that’s different today; it’s raining. it’s one a.m and it’s raining, and suna decided that it would be a sublime idea to walk to your apartment today, of all days. [as much as you encourage him to do so, he still never checks the weather]. the disruption in your routine was anything but an easy adjustment. and as much as you wanted to kick him out, the rain was growing heavier and heavier and—

“okay fine! you can crash for the night!” 

he smiled, unaware of the fact that you would have said yes to him either way.

+++

you can’t help but notice that suna has pretty eyes.

honestly, you picked up on his bizarrely unique vulpine-like eyes years ago, when you had first met him. but now, as you sit on the couch that occupies the majority of your compact living room, you’re drawn back to them.

its an odd thought to think about your best friend at one in the morning. 

but...he’s admittedly pretty.

you think back to a random fact you learned in the biology course you took in your third year of highschool; you grow into your eyes. never in your life did you believe that such a miniscule piece of information would find its way back into your mind two years later, and because of suna no less.

it’s one a.m and your legs are situated in his lap, his fingers deftly toying with the tip of the anklet he bought you for your sixteenth birthday [he doesn’t believe that you still wear it, even after all the passed time], 

but you’re still fixated on his eyes.

if it was even possible, the creases accented them further, like each line was strategically placed to lure one’s undivided attention to them. it’s funny though, because suna was never fond of attention. [which was also why seven year old rin never took a liking to overly-exertive you.

you still share a laugh with him thinking back to your rock hard resolve as a child and his burning desire to stay away from you. 

it’s funny how easily time changes things.]

you almost feel like you’re dreaming as you watch his eyelids ghost over, his glassy skin reflecting the coral tint of the cheap ceiling light. but you’re not dreaming, he’s right there, in all his ignorant glory. suna doesn’t notice your residual gaze, he’s fixated on the ‘NBA playoffs highlights’ video streaming on his instagram feed. yet you feel creepy, overanalyzing him like this.

but you allow your mind to wander, just a bit.

“hey, rintaro?” you lightly dig your heel into his thigh. 

it’s merely a sporadic case of wishful thinking. you’ve known suna rintaro for many years, which was more than enough time to figure out his complex personality.

and if there’s one thing he never allowed you to do, it was his eyeliner.

six times. 

you had asked to apply the liquid to his eyes six times, and each time you had received the same answer. a simple no. he doesn’t say ‘no’ with malice, though. no...the last thing he would want is you thinking that he just hated you enough to constantly reject your proposals.

suna hums quietly, shifting to meet your gaze. “yeah?” 

he still thinks you haven’t caught on, but you picked up on his tendency to immediately drop his phone in a reflex to hearing your voice a while back— you like it.

“do you think,” you shift your legs from the comfort of his lap and move your body closer to him, “i could do your eyeliner?”

your question doesn’t register.

instead, suna’s hyper fixated on the inching proximity between you two— he doesn’t like it. it’s one a.m and you’re moving one couch cushion closer, your knee is brushing against his thigh, has your skin always been this cold? he can barely focus, but he still hears the droplets of rain assaulting the window and roofs, they’re getting louder and louder and—

“suna? did you hear me?” your voice is accompanied with slight confusion. 

you narrow your eyes as he blinks out of his trance. you’re not shocked though— his tendencies to space out were never limited to lectures alone. “wha?”

your shoulder rests against his, and he swears he feels his heart cease its rhythmic palpitations for a fraction of a second.

[no you idiot, that’s just your regular heartbeat.]

there’s apprehension in your voice, “can i...do your eyeliner…?” suna is a relatively simple man, the worst he can say is no, but you want a yes this time around. 

“i’ve already said—” 

suna’s breath hitches, as if his words are lodged at the back of his throat. your fingers grip onto the peak of his broad shoulders. [you’d rather die than admit it, but you always loved when he’d roll them back and inconspicuously stretch his neck]

suna stares at you squarely in the face. he can feel the outline of your fingernails lightly tacking into his skin. shit, he’s dreaming. his eyes shift around the room, it’s still one a.m, and he can’t get any words out of his mouth.

speak, speak, SPEAK—

you beat him to it.

“before you say no!” your voice rises as you try to appeal. “i’m letting you crash at my place for the night, i deserve a payment.” your words come out as more of a jumbled mess than a proper sentence. subconsciously, you take your bottom lip between your thumb and index fingers, biting it every now and then. suna lifts a brow at your familiar mannerisms— he likes to think he knows you better than anyone else, and he knows that you toy with your bottom lip before taking a test, receiving a report card, or going in for a job interview.

are you nervous?

he sighs.

“fine…” he whispers softly. suna doesn’t exactly know if he should regret agreeing to your question, but he doesn’t miss the way your eyes visibly light up when he does.

you look pretty. 

+++

he regrets it.

it’s one a.m and you’re situated on his lap, straddling him innocently as you dab the brush into the bottle of ebony ink. suna can’t help but feel like a putty in your hands, the same ones that gently grip his jaw to hold it in place. 

he’s still not sure how old he was when your touches started to feel like fire.

suna feels trapped, he IS trapped. between your legs, between your soft body and the tender cushion, between the thin line of friendship and-

he should stop.

[he still can’t believe he’s doing this]

“would you like thin, or thick eyeliner, rin?”

has his name always rolled off your tongue so effortlessly?

“thin, like yours.”

you hum with content, looking him over with a small smile etched onto your face. he doesn’t understand how you can keep eye contact with him so easily, especially while you’re moving closer and closer to his chest. 

he holds his breath as you exhale. he can still smell the lingering scent of peppermint from the gum you were chewing minutes before– usually he can’t stand it, but right now it feels like home. suna knows his eyes shouldn’t be trailing down to your cherry balm stained lips, and he knows that his chest shouldn’t swell at the sight of you wearing his old bleach stained t-shirt that stretched past your shorts.

suna knows that he’s not supposed to see his best friend in that light; so why is it all that he can think about?

“close your eyes for me please?”

he really doesn’t want to, afraid that if he opens them back up again, you’ll be gone and he’ll be in his bed [he still believes that he’s dreaming]. but he knows that he’d rather dance with the devil [the twins] than say no to you, so he complies.

you hum a light tune to yourself as you bring the fine-tipped brush to the edge of his eye. as the pen glides across his skin, suna can’t help but flinch at the intrusive feeling. instinctively, his hand darts up to hold your wrist, stopping you from drawing any further.

“that feels weird.” he can’t see, but he can feel the smile tugging at your lips.

“you’ll get used to it in a bit, rin.”

it’s weird, best friends don’t usually sit in each other’s lap with less than five inches of breathing room between each other. what if he were to do this with one of the twins–

that’s a disturbing thought. he immediately forgets about it. he shifts in discomfort mid-stroke, making your hand slip.

you groan in frustration; it’s at times like this that you can’t stand suna.

“stop moving! you made it smudge!” you lightly smack his chest [though, it’s just a pitiful excuse to touch him].

“sorry, sorry.” your giggles die down as you clean up the line, and suna quickly goes back to overthinking. 

tik

the rain is still pouring.

tok

he counts that you breathe twice every ten seconds.

tik

you’re getting closer to his chest. 

tok

he can still smell the leftover pizza on the coffee table from today’s takeout.

tik

the gel feels kind of nice now.

tok

its one a.m and suna’s falling in love with–

“earth to suna?” you huff as you lightly tap his shoulder, “don’t tell me that you’ve fallen asleep on me.” it’s quite funny to him when you say that; you’re actually what keeps him up at night.

you lean back as he opens his eyes, looking at the eyeliner from afar. you can’t help but get a bit jealous– even without trying, suna had always managed to look perfect. 

you’re so caught up that you don’t notice yourself starting to slip.

“watch out.” his hand slips around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

it’s one a.m and your hands are back on his shoulders. you know that your eyes shouldn’t be on his slightly chapped lips, and you know that you shouldn’t want to throw the hoodie adorning his body somewhere across the room. 

inhale

his hands are still around your waist.

exhale 

you watch as his tongue ghosts over his lips to wet them.

inhale 

you can smell the residual scent of the same cinnamon cologne you got him for a ‘secret santa’ event between your friend group.

exhale 

sometimes, you forget that you’re just friends.

inhale

has suna always been this attractive?

exhale 

the tipped over bottle of eyeliner is spilling onto your clothes.

inhale 

how would his lips feel against–

“wanna kiss you.” the hesitation in suna’s voice is clear. he knows better than anyone that best friends shouldn’t want to kiss each other. his heart is racing. when your eyes widen in surprise he wants nothing more than to push you off of him and leave without saying goodbye– but he’s already said it. 

“w-what?” you stutter out. you can’t help but wonder if you’re dreaming. you want to pinch yourself, but if it is a dream, the last thing you’d want is to wake up.

“i want to kiss you. will you let me?” he says, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

little does he know that you want more; to touch him, taste him, love him–

you take the easy way out instead, “yeah...alright.”

he moves a stray strand of hair away from your face, is he doing this right? You move in closer, eyes slowly fluttering shut, but suna’s gaze still lingers on you. he thinks you look even more beautiful than before [he didn’t think it was possible]. It’s one a.m and he’s about to kiss the person of his dreams. 

shit. he should close his eyes.

the journey seems like forever, but you both finally feel each other.

no, his lips don’t ghost over yours.

they press together, full of pent up passion. it’s hot, too hot for even best friends. 

can you even call each other that anymore?

not with the way his hands claw at the tip of your shirt in a futile attempt of pulling you closer to him, not with the way you gather tufts of his hair in your hands, and certainly not at the way you both feel at home like this. you both can taste every last inch of each other. 

he swears that he hates peppermint, but he’s drunk on the taste of it on your tongue. 

you’re meant to be nothing more than childhood best friends, but you want more and more and MORE.

this shouldn’t be happening, but he wants more and more and MORE–

you both break for air after an eternity, pulling away with heat-flushed faces, heaving chests, and swollen lips. he rests his forehead against yours, peppering ghost-kisses between breaths that tickle your skin. 

“i’m not supposed to love you, but i do.”

it’s two a.m, and two best friends are melting into each other. 

they’re unaware that the rain has stopped. 

[ahkaahshi]

exploration [sakusa kiyoomi x reader]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem reader

genre: smut (18+)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, light degradation, dirty talk, mean-ish?? then nice dom sakusa, rough sex, orgasm denial, being stimulated in public, swearing

word count: 2.9k

overview: you wanna try new things. some of them work and some of them don’t, but it’s all a learning experience.

notes: yall my heart just went 🥺 soft sakusa 🥺 yet again (I'm rlly weak for him obviously I have no issue admitting it) but I wanted to give him a lil edge too ya feel? I rlly banged this out with my last two braincells so I hope you enjoy :)

As you wander around the large, open space in the elegant, modern art museum, heels clicking against the cold, concrete floor, your (e/c) eyes drift from one painting to the next. The steady, gentle rhythm of some, ethereal lounge music echoes around the room just under the hum of conversations taking place nearby. Though they’re speaking of things mostly foreign to you, since they’re members of a much higher society than that in which you live, you can’t help but find yourself somewhat entertained by the gossip you hear circulating amongst the women as they chat over a few too many cocktails.

Spending the evening perusing expensive artwork in such a luxurious venue, wearing a dress you hope looks fancy enough while you rub shoulders with the elite is definitely not a normal occasion in your day to day life. However, with your boyfriend’s constantly climbing popularity as a professional athlete, his name was starting to show up on more of the guest lists to exclusive events such as this exclusive art showcase you find yourself at now. While it’s interesting--to an extent--you do find yourself growing bored from time to time. Earlier, your beloved’s teammates had been around to entertain you, but they’d since left to help themselves to the open bar.

Not even moments after you let out a soft sigh and readjust the strap of your dress on your shoulder, you feel a familiar vibration emanate from deep inside of you. The intensity and location of the sensation make one hand fly to your mouth to stifle a small squeal that escapes your throat while the other grips the chiffon of your dress’s skirt. Turning away from the few gazes that have fastened on you at your reaction to what seems like absolutely nothing, you look through the doorway into the next room to see your boyfriend watching you with rapt attention.

His hand is buried in the pocket of his sleek, black trousers, thumb resting atop the button of the remote he’s using to make the vibrator nestled inside of you jump to life. With the way he’s been using your desire to do more exploration in terms of kinks and sexual fantasies to keep you on the brink of an orgasm all night long, you’re starting to regret suggesting the idea of a bullet vibrator earlier today. By this point, your panties are uncomfortably wet and you’re on the verge of getting on your knees in front of the event’s other patrons and begging him to fuck you.

You’ve been holding yourself together the entire evening, even keeping your drink from spilling when he decided to turn it on right as the bartender handed it off to you, but you’ve had enough now. You figure you’ve been good enough for him to reward you, since you haven’t complained once or let on to the dirty game the two of you were playing to see who caved first and asked to go home. You don’t mind letting him win this round, since you know you’ll get what you want either way.

As nonchalantly as you can when your core is abuzz with stimulation and your stomach is clenching from the sensation, you make quick strides across the room to where he’s standing. He seems to sense what you’re about to ask him, so he turns off the vibrator and places his hand on the small of your back when you arrive at his side.

“Kiyoomi,” you whine softly, running your fingertips along the soft material of his crisp, button-up shirt he’s wearing beneath a suit jacket.

He raises a dark eyebrow at you and hums questioningly in response, waiting for you to admit defeat.

As much as you don’t want to say it, in this case, you’ll have to put your pride aside to get what you want. Reminding yourself that you’ll find a way to have your fun with him in return at a later point in time gives you some comfort as you move your head closer to his ear.

“Can we go home, baby?” you ask in a demure tone.

“Hmm? Why would you want to do that, (f/n)?” he wonders, his hand remaining annoyingly still where it rests against the back of your dress.

You refrain from letting out a sound of disapproval at his coy attitude, since you know anything you say can and will be held against you in the bedroom in this game you’re playing. Instead, you whisper, “So you can take this tiny, little thing out of me and stuff me with your big cock instead.”

That does it. His fingers grip your waist on their way to meet yours so he can interlace them and lead you back to the entrance of the museum. His teammates urge him to stay and have a few drinks with them, but he’s quick to wave them off and make a hasty exit.

When Bokuto tries to follow the two of you to persuade you to stay, Atsumu grabs his arm and puts his attempt to a halt by hissing, “The man's on a mission ta get fucked, dude. Let ‘im go.”

To that, the tall, white and black-haired man whistles lowly, nods, and heads back to the bar with his teammate for another shot.

You and Sakusa are quick to locate his car, and he unlocks it with a chirp so you can both slide into your respective seats. Before fastening your seatbelt, you lean over towards him to steal a few, long-awaited kisses from his lips that he returns with fervor, giving you a glimpse of the impatience that had apparently been dwelling within him all night long. When you run your hand over the bulge in his pants, though, he’s quick to retreat from your affection and stick his key in the ignition.

“Omi,” you cry softly, brows furrowing and lower lip protruding with dismay. With the way your core is on fire at the moment, you want nothing more than for him to at least give you some relief in the car. The fifteen minutes it’ll take for you to get home are going to be painstaking at this rate.

His dark eyes flick over to you, narrowed ever so slightly with irritation as he responds, “Being a brat isn’t going to get you what you want.” The two of you lock eyes for a long moment in a silent battle for dominance before you relent, sit back, and buckle in your seatbelt. “Good girl.”

Your body warms at the praise, and grows even hotter when he slides his hand over onto your thigh after reversing out of the parking spot and shifting back into drive. His focus doesn’t leave the street ahead as his fingers find the slit in your skirt and navigate the short stretch of skin between its peak and your valley. Instinctively, you grasp his wrist to guide him closer to your underwear, but he stops.

“Don’t touch me while I'm driving, princess,” is the firm command he utters that makes you release your grip, “You’ll distract me.”

Your fingers dig into the smooth, leather seats as you try your best to restrain yourself, but each stoplight you hit makes you squeeze your thighs together with impatience, trapping his hand between your supple skin. Since he can see how desperate you are, he prods at your clit through your soaked panties, eliciting a gentle moan from you. With the way you've been waiting for him to touch you all night, anything you can get from him feels amazing.

Though he’s being silent, he’s trying his best to contain himself at hearing the pretty sounds slipping out of your mouth and feeling how wet you are. He didn’t realize quite how worked up you were until now.

“Baby, I want more,” you utter after no more than just a few, short minutes of toying with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He scoffs, “I’m not giving you more. Can't have my leather seats getting ruined by you making a mess when you cum, dirty girl.”

You clench around the slim vibrator at his words and groan when he withdraws his fingers from between your legs. Thankfully, you can see your neighborhood come into view, and he's parking outside your house before you know it. Anticipation sends another painful throb through your walls as you unbuckle your seatbelt, dart out of the car, and hurry towards the front door.

Sakusa seems to be in less of a rush, though, since he takes his time opening the door, removing his shoes, and loosening the tie around his throat. Your tugging at his arm to lead him towards the bedroom only earns you a warning glance, so you wait a few, painfully long seconds for him to finish what he’s doing. Your patience is quickly rewarded, though, when he guides you into the room, yanks down the zipper on your dress, and pushes you onto the bed.

His lips crash against yours as you sling your arms over his shoulders to bring his body down towards yours. Each of his kisses are deep, passionate, and add more fuel to the fire that’s been burning between your legs. Feeling needier than ever, you hastily undo the buttons on his shirt while he unclasps your bra and rids you of your panties in a flash. He swallows the loud moan you release when his fingers slide into your weeping pussy to retrieve the vibrator that’s been lodged inside of you the entire night.

Your hips buck against his fingers as they slide out of you, removing the small device and tossing it aside, so he allows you a sliver of relief by rubbing his fingers coated in your essence against your clit. He watches your expressions of pleasure and the way your muscles twitch as you chase the high you’ve been after all night. The sight of you with your face flushed and eyelids squeezed shut as your lips part to utter more delightful sounds of pleasure makes his erection throb painfully in his pants.

“You poor thing,” he coos, removing his fingers from between your legs, “So desperate to get fucked. Take my pants off and I'll let you cum on my cock since you’ve been a good girl all night, but not until I say so.”

In your hazy state of mind, you reach for his belt, unbuckle it, and set to work undoing his pants. He slides his shirt off before discarding his trousers and littering your neck with more kisses as he slowly inches closer to you. You exhale breathily when you feel him slide the head of his dick from your clit down to your entrance, teasing you by remaining just outside.

“Kiyoomi!” you complain in a moment of sexual frustration, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

To this he responds harshly, “Quit whining like a little brat or else I'll fuck your mouth instead so I don’t have to listen to you.”

He sees a look of shock pass over your features like a dark storm cloud drifting in front of the sun, and he worries for an instant that he’s overstepped a boundary. But, to his relief, you rest your head back against the soft covers and breathe, “I'm sorry, baby.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises in a much gentler tone and places a peck against your sternum before lifting your hips up towards his.

A drawn-out moan spills out of your mouth as he pushes his cock inside of you, giving you the sensation of being full that you’ve so desperately been craving all evening. His gaze remains on yours, and you watch the subtle crinkle of his nose and twitch of the moles above his eyebrow that always accompany a low groan of satisfaction during moments like these. After he’s bottomed out, he allows you a moment to breathe before he begins thrusting into you rather roughly.

Any words you want to say you’re unable to form as he indulges your tight pussy, spreading your legs further with his hand so he can reach deeper and deeper inside you with each snap of his hips against yours. “Well?” he goads, his hot breath fanning across your neck and ear when he moves his head there so he can latch onto your tender skin with his teeth, “Let me hear you, baby. Now.”

You mewl loudly at the sensation of him sucking on your neck in combination with his cock hitting your cervix, sending small jolts of pleasure skittering across your skin like electricity. “Faster, please!” you manage to squeak as your hands move onto his back, fingertips pressing into his muscles, which ripple with every thrust inside of you. His skin feels unbearably hot against yours, causing beads of sweat to form on your bodies.

He obliges your request and picks up his pace until all you’re able to do is let your head roll back and moan unintelligible words while he attacks the sensitive skin on your throat. Every grunt he utters sends tingles down your spine, and you can hear his breathing become more labored whenever he starts succumbing to the satisfaction he’s reaping from being sheathed in your velvety walls while they clench deliciously around him.

Following a particularly rough thrust that nearly has you seeing stars, he mentions, “You were being so expressive about your desires earlier, princess, but you can’t even speak now? Nothing shuts you up quite like having my cock deep in your pussy, huh?” You nod in agreement, since you’re not able to form any coherent words as you rock your body against his.

After a few minutes, you feel the pressure you’ve been holding in your stomach all night long threaten to loosen up, and you whimper, since you’re right on the edge of the orgasm you’ve been waiting too long to experience. Sakusa notices the anguish etched into your features when he takes a pause from decorating your neck with love bites, and rubs your clit with precise movements, targeting your most sensitive spot.

“Cum for me like the good girl you are, princess.”

His husky command pushes you over the edge, and you cry out with ecstasy as you pull him closer to you and buck your hips against him feverishly. The feeling of your pussy pulsating around him bring him to his orgasm faster than expected, and a stream of curse words and praises fall from his mouth onto your ears. He knows you’re on birth control, so he finishes while nestled deep within your core, painting your walls with his release.

The sensation isn't one you’re used to feeling, since he often opts to pull out anyway, but you enjoy coming down from your high while he’s still inside you. Feeling that you’re still connected in the vulnerable moments that follow your sex sessions brings you a sense of comfort you didn’t know you’d been craving.

Once you’ve had some time to regain your breath, he withdraws from you and presses a gentle kiss against your lips. “How was that?” he asks as he lays down beside you and grabs a few tissues to clean up the fluids seeping out of you, onto the duvet.

“Great,” you hum softly, “I enjoyed it. How did it feel for you?”

A look of concern crosses his features as he discards the used tissues in a nearby trashcan. When he turns back to face you, he brushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes and comments, “I’d prefer not to treat you like that.”

“Baby, I know how much you care about me. You’re not hurting my feelings; it’s just roleplaying.” A short pause in your conversation ensues as he contemplates your words while you run your fingers along his neck and jaw. “Would you be open to trying it again, maybe, or was it just not for you?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable speaking to you in that way. I didn’t like calling you a dirty girl or saying that I was gonna fuck your mouth. Seeing your face when I said that nearly made me stop.”

Upon noticing the uncertainty flickering in his dark gaze, you gently coax him to bring his face closer to yours by lightly pressing your fingers against the back of his neck. You then close the gap between your lips once more with a long kiss that you hope communicates to him at least a sliver of the immense amount of love you have for him. His hand cups the side of your face when you pull away, making you smile.

“It’s okay. We won’t do it again if it makes you uncomfortable,” you reassure him, “But will you call me a good girl and take control like that more often? I think I enjoyed that part the most.”

He nods, sending a ripple through the dark sea of waves atop his head, and presses another kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi,” you utter when he pulls away.

“I love you too, (f/n). Let’s go in the shower now.”

You let out a low murmur of disagreement and pull him closer to you so that his warm body's hovering over yours once more. Giving him a playful tug on his lower lip with your teeth, you mention, “You made me wait too long tonight for one time to be enough, baby.”

masterlist

dedications: this work is dedicated to the lovely @ohbyunhunn​ :) I hope you enjoy since you were havin a rough day ❤️ thanks for listening to all my whack ideas n supporting me anyway bb 😌

[magioftheseas]

Kazuichi & Yasuke

Summary: Souda Kazuichi’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. It’s also half and half but for more unfortunate reasons.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language and references to violence.

Notes: For REASONS, I ended up writing Souda’s FTEs when I initially intended to write Sonia’s. I’m disappointed in myself too, but...hm. I enjoyed writing these. I think it’s fun (?) to write social events where the two parties just don’t get along and that doesn’t change by the end. It’s played seriously, and I’m curious how people will take it. But I wrote these close to the heart!

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

“Blue skies! Beautiful beaches! Babes! By all accounts, this should be a dream come true! So, why—why, why, why, why, WHY does a guy like YOU gotta be here?!”

“That’s fucking rude,” Matsuda scoffed. “All I’m doing is reading.”

“You keep staring!” Souda accused, shaking his fist in frustration. “And I can feel ya judging, too!! Are you EVER in a good mood?!”

In reality, Souda had been the one to constantly steal glances instead of looking at his own damn magazine. Matsuda, subsequently, had gotten annoyed by it. He really had thought if he focused on his own manga, it’d be fine even with the dipshit mechanic present, but he was a fool. He was a real fucking fool.

Although not as much an idiot as this guy...

“You’re judging!” Souda screeched. “I know you are! Why do you have it out for me?!”

“I don’t,” Matsuda grumbled. “I barely consider you at all.”

“T-That’s hurtful, man! Real hurtful!” Souda even sniffled, he was so hurt by it. “This is why you don’t have any friends!”

...I could leave. I could just...leave. He’s not going to follow me. I could just leave and go someplace quiet.

But, because there wouldn’t be any events if he just left, he was stuck.

Great...

Souda was still glaring at him. He was glaring pretty hard, but also pretty...desperately.

“Even if your face freezes like that, it won’t make you more intimidating,” Matsuda muttered. “Actually no matter what you do, you can’t change that.”

Souda froze immediately. Matsuda gives him a look, but before he can say anything more, the guy flees the scene.

Had the line being broken?

Guess I hit a nerve.

Souda had even abandoned his magazine. Matsuda doubted the guy had the brain capacity to retrieve it later, although he himself hesitates before plucking it off the ground. Thankfully, while it was a little crumbled, it wasn’t sticky. Or oily.

Hm.

He should probably return it.

--

The first thing Souda did upon opening the door was let out a shriek. The second thing he did was slam it in Matsuda’s face.

This fucking guy...

Matsuda took a deep breath and knocked once more on the door.

“Nobody’s here!” Souda’s voice came through muffled. “A-And even if there were somebody—you’re not welcome!”

“For fuck’s sake—I’m just here to give you back your magazine, not because I...” Matsuda bit his tongue, kneeling down. “You know what, I’ll just shove it under...”

“Wait-wait-wait!”

The door was almost flung open, Souda now looking frantic.

“Don’t do that!” he exclaims. “You’ll wrinkle it! You’ll mess with the illustrations! Hasn’t anyone taught you how to treat a magazine?!”

Matsuda straightened up, handing it over without much more fanfare. Souda does take it, but he continues to grumble.

“Seriously, you’re such a slob. That’s like, super unsexy to women. H-Haven’t you heard?”

Matsuda wordlessly glances past into the mechanic’s cottage. There are some miscellaneous gears and gizmos scattered across the floor. Some bottles of what looked to be motor oil. It certainly stank of motor oil.

“Oh, this old thing?” Souda asked, mistaking his staring for interest. He grins suddenly and it might’ve been the first time he’s smile like that at Matsuda. “It’s a lil vroom-vroom I’m working on! Pretty spiffy, huh?”

...spiffy? That’s...something only elderlies would use... Not to mention that’s not even the correct usage?

“I guess you mean it’s neat,” Matsuda muttered.

“I know right?!” Souda exclaimed excitedly. “It’s real neat! It’s gonna be a real wham bam when I’m finished!”

“Right...”

“Right, right!” Souda agreed, nodding frantically now. “You get it, you get it! I guess even a jackass like you still has a right eye for this kinda thing, Matsuda. Just this once, I’ll let you have a closer look! Come in! Don’t be a priss!”

He worked himself up as usual, but I guess this time he at least did so positively.

Mortifyingly curious as to how far this could go, Matsuda does step inside. Souda eagerly gestures to the lump of metal on the ground. Matsuda looks at it closely and—yet.

It’s a lump...of metal. Incredible.

“This baby is gonna go places when it’s done,” Souda sighs happily. “I won’t be able to test it—but I’m sure of it. It’s gonna go far, kid!”

Show him how to lie. You’re getting better all the time.

“I’m sure it will,” Matsuda replied, doing his best to give a decent nod of approval. Souda does preen, but just like that—Souda realizes himself. And he realizes Matsuda.

Specifically, he re-realizes that he and Matsuda don’t have the best relationship.

“You’re not just saying that to make fun of me, right?! You almost got me going, too!”

Although he still seems confused about the intricacies of said relationship.

“It’s nothing like that,” Matsuda waved his hand, shaking his head for good measure. Souda seemed unconvinced, much to his annoyance. “I was just curious.”

Except he really wasn’t. He was the kind of guy who had about as much interest in cars as he did in answering surveys. Souda’s eyes narrowed sharply in suspicion and, seriously, where did this guy get off on presuming so much shit about him?

Matsuda sighed.

Whatever. I delivered the magazine back.

“If I’m not welcome here, I’ll leave.”

He’s not sure what he expected when he turned on his heel. He might not have expected anything, and indeed nothing really happened. He walked out of the cottage, shutting the door behind him, and walked the rest of the way back in silence.

Pretty uneventful overall, but it was still something.

--

“H-H-Hey! Matsuda!”

He supposed he wasn’t really expecting to be called out. When he turned, however, he was already prepared.

“What is it? You better clarify because you’re on a different frequency than I am.”

“Eh? Come on, dude, it’s not like we’re speaking different languages here!” Souda huffed, shoving his hands into his jumpsuit pockets. “I’m just...trying to get yer attention. It’s...like...”

He’s slurring his words a bit.

“You made me feel bad, y’know,” Souda grumbled. “With the way you left. I’m just checking because the last thing I need is you having another reason to...”

“You really are convinced I have something against you, huh,” Matsuda droned, unimpressed. “Would you believe me if I told you that I really don’t care?”

Souda groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Of course you don’t care. You’re a jackass.”

He’s not wrong...but he’s also not right. Not caring goes both ways.

“Hm.” They’d just go in circles at this rate, so it was best to change tactics. “You’re...”

Aah, what to say? Not my type? Not really understanding? This guy...

“You’re here because you say you felt bad.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something,” Souda huffed. “Like...a brain guy, right?”

“Right.” That doesn’t mean I understand every irrational, idiotic choice a person makes. “I understand the physical sciences. Psychology, however, is its own thing.”

“I mean, I know that,” Souda said, sounding completely unconvincing. “It’s like—the difference between fixing and programming. I can fix a computer, but when it comes to all the typing, clicking, and trouble...finding... I don’t get that stuff.”

“Troubleshooting,” Matsuda corrected.

“Computers aren’t my thing anyway,” Souda went on, unbothered. “I’m more of a vehicle guy!” He lit up so easily. “Like! Vroom, vroom! Wham bam!”

He made other engine noises for that matter.

Matsuda would lie if he said he didn’t find it mildly amusing.

Any moment the two could have had was quickly ruined, however.

“Anyway! There! I spoke to ya!” Souda twisted away. “We’re good, then!”

...it’s not like I’m expecting an apology, but what a shitty fucking thing to just say. And to say loudly, at that.

“Argh! Not good?!” Souda flinched, cowering. “You’re giving me that awful judge-y look again! What is your PROBLEM?!”

For once, the glare was intentional and only intensified, making Souda crumble and whimper.

“C-Cut it out, seriously...! You’re going to make me cry!”

“Is that really my problem?” Matsuda asked coolly. “This is just how my face looks a lot of the time. I can’t control that but you could be less of a fucking coward.”

“I’m not...a coward,” Souda muttered, pulling down his beanie. “I-I’m not! You’re just... You’re such an ass! Seriously! Seriously! How the hell is someone like you—?!”

“Someone like me?” he prodded, eyes half-lidded. Souda recoils whenever he makes any attempt at coming closer. Sure, this dipshit is easily spooked and intimidated, but...

Is there more to it?

“Q-Quit it,” Souda squeaked. “S-Stooooop...”

It’s not...my appearance, is it?

Matsuda backed off anyway, playing with his hair to stave off the irritation. Fidgeting could only do so much.

“I really don’t get it,” Souda said, then, and it sounded almost morose. “It pisses me off so much that you’re the kind of guy that’s just...popular with girls.”

Matsuda pinched a lock of hair hard enough to dig his thumbnail into his finger pad. The pinch did little to soothe his nerves.

I’m more or less hopeless when it comes to tech. A wrench in my hand would only ever be used as a weapon. But, this guy...

“That’s definitely not my problem.”

He’s incredibly basic.

“Maybe you should just take more showers?”

“LIKE YOU’RE ONE TO TALK?!”

A basic bitch for sure.

“Hmm.”

“NO COMEBACK?!”

Matsuda stuck his tongue out, Souda screamed in frustration.

The rest went about as well as anyone could expect.

--

“This really is just the wooooorst,” Souda laments, sounding dangerously close to a sob. “For my first field trip ever, to have it be such a bust is just the woooorst.”

“First time?” Matsuda asked, only feigning curiosity as he flipped the page. He didn’t care, but any conversation was better than listening to more whining. All Matsuda did was sit down to read and he was too spiteful and stubborn to leave when he hadn’t done anything. “Skipped the one in middle school?”

The reason I didn’t go was to study, but for a guy like this...

“Huh? Oh, yeah...” Souda shrugged. “I uh, faked being sick and stayed home instead. Not like I could go with how poor my folks were—not like I wanted to go with how shitty my boring asshole classmates were. My old man was pissed though. Beat the shit out of me.”

“I guess overcompensation ran in the family,” Matsuda muttered, but Souda hadn’t heard him.

“He knew we couldn’t afford it, too,” he just went on. “We had this bike shop but like—not super, uh...”

“Profitable?” Matsuda guessed, to which he nodded along.

“Yeah, people just wanted to fix tires and pump air. We barely sold anything.” Souda sighed loudly before grinning and pointing to himself with a jerk of his thumb. “But! Yours truly still turned out to be a genius mechanic! From bikes to cars! Toys to appliances! You got it, I fix it!”

“You’d make a lot more money as a mechanic than a bike salesman,” Matsuda noted. “It’s a well-paying and sought-after service.”

“I’ve been taking apart and reconstructing things since I could walk,” Souda said proudly. “Even though my old man is just—hopeless!”

“Hopeless,” Matsuda echoed disinterestedly.

“That said, I was still looking forward to this trip,” Souda sighed again. “It sounds nice to go on a trip with friends and stuff, but...you and I are like...the furthest thing from friends.” He does perk up when he remembers, “I guess Hinata’s alright. He’s kinda cool. A real soul bro. Soul pal? Soul friend!”

In that case, why aren’t you seeking his company?

Matsuda’s not quite that petty. Not to mention how childish it’d make him sound while asking that aloud. It’s not like he has a problem with Souda and Hinata getting along.

Although...

Hinata has a thing for Komaeda. That might end up complicating that soul bromance or whatever down the line.

Not that it had anything to do with him.

“I have an unlikeable personality,” he just reminded Souda sardonically. “I didn’t come to Hope’s Peak expecting or wanting to make friends.”

The idea is just...absurd. I haven’t been able to connect with peers in over a decade, why the hell would that change now?

“I know!” Souda groused. “Which is why! A guy like you just shouldn’t be LIKED by girls! Who knows how you’d treat them! If you don’t watch yourself, your alarm clock’s gonna get modified into a ticking time bomb!”

“Try it, coward,” Matsuda snapped, making him falter back. “I fucking dare you.”

“E-Eep...! W-Why do you have to make such a scary face, Matsuda...?!”

“...it’s just how I look.”

Haaaah. This is exhausting. So...exhausting.

“Bad looks and a bad personality, but even you can admit I’m a genius, yeah?” Matsuda turned away. “When you’re smart, people flock to you either as a crutch or a springboard. Especially when you’re young.”

“I mean, I’m a genius too,” Souda grumbled. “I actually could just...modify clocks into bombs if I...really wanted to...”

“I want to change the very scope of neurology,” Matsuda went on, ignoring him this time. “I’m going to make it so that no person will ever be lost to us again.”

“Wait...you’re gonna like...cure death?” Souda asked, gawking. “T-That’s...dude...!”

Matsuda couldn’t help but smirk, all too aware of the growing alarm in the mechanic’s eyes.

“If you could just upload a person’s consciousness to a computer like a program... That’d change more than just our understanding of the brain. It’d challenge our understanding of humanity itself.”

Souda went pale.

“T-That’s, uh...”

“Of course it’s pretty unlikely,” Matsuda said, shaking his head. “And so absurdly sci-fi to the point of fantasy.”

But... It could have been possible at Hope’s Peak. Not on this stupid fucking island though.

“It was a joke. You’re supposed to laugh.”

Souda was left in stunned silence.

“I guess it was a bad joke,” Matsuda admits grumpily.

“Y-You know, I, uh... I just wanted to make a rocket ship someday,” Souda says, slowly and stupidly unsure. “But, you, uh... Your ambitions are fucking scary. Count me out.”

Just like that, Souda stood up and left. Without another word.

That was more or less what Matsuda learned to expect.

--

I really do just have a bad personality.

He knows this already, obviously. But it’s a fact that gets hammered in sometimes. Especially right now, when he sees Souda chatting amicably with Hinata. Souda’s wearing a smile that’s only been directed at Matsuda a couple of times. Even when Souda falters, Hinata ends up saying something that makes him perk right back up.

Hinata’s not that social of a guy in the first place.

The two of them banter with ease even when it’s clear that Hinata still gets exasperated by the other’s antics. Then—something is said. Souda’s expression changes into one of frustration and unease. Hinata’s worried, but when Souda excuses himself, Hinata makes no move to follow him. Likely to give the other space. Be respectful. All that.

Matsuda does trail after Souda, however. He’s not a considerate or patient guy. It’s why he doesn’t have any friends.

“Urgh, hate this, hate this, hate this,” Souda’s muttering under his breath through gritted teeth. “Seriously, why did this have to happen? There’s no escape...the ships and planes are useless...no engines... What the hell can I even do...?!”

“Boo.” Matsuda blew into the mechanic’s ear. “Gimme your lunch money.”

Souda screamed loud enough to blow off mountaintops. Matsuda thankfully had the foresight to cover his ears.

“M-M-M-MATSUDA?!” Souda yelped. “What the actual FUCK was that?!”

“A prank,” is his droning response. “You can laugh now.”

“THAT SHIT WASN’T FUNNY!” Souda screeched back. “Y-You, you, you—! Fucking watch it! I’m not in any mood to be messed with!”

Matsuda waved his hands.

“Alright, alright.”

Souda gave him a withering look. After a while, he backed up even more.

“...why are you here? A-Are you here to...?”

Matsuda waved his hands again, shaking his head for good measure.

“If I were, I wouldn’t have gotten your attention.”

“T-That could just be part of the trap!” Souda sputters. “Y-You... You’re not playing with me, are you?!”

...I was, but not because I wanted to murder you. Jeez. I like to think I’d be more pragmatic.

“You’re free to scream, then,” he said simply. “Scream as loud as you can. It can even be my name if you want.”

Souda shuddered.

“U-Urgh...dude, seriously... You’re just messed up,” he groans, burying his face into his hands. “What I’d give for a vehicle to get as far from you as possible. Even if I get sick afterward, it’d be worth it.”

“Haha,” Matsuda droned without a hint of mirth. “Sure.”

“Come to think of it, if anyone would be tempted to be the one to escape at the expense of everyone else...” Souda does raise his head to give him a look.

Matsuda stared back.

“You don’t know me,” he said. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“I-I don’t know,” Souda huffed, feigning assurance. “I think I’ve been around ya long enough to get a good idea of your character. And you’ve got like—scary ambitions.”

I’m not a considerate person, nor am I patient. I know I should be. It would ultimately make my life a lot easier.

“By that logic, I must know you pretty well in return,” he said.

Souda scoffed.

“Yeah, right. You’re just trying to psyche...”

“Dyed hair. Contacts.” Matsuda gestures to the entirety of him. “The way a person chooses to look says a lot about them.”

Souda’s mouth immediately shut, all blood draining from his face. It was easy. Too easy.

“Wonder what happened? Was it just bullying? Or a betrayal?” Matsuda went on. “People who change their natural appearance like that usually have something deeper to throw away.”

“Don’t—talk about shit you have no idea about...!” Souda growled. “It’s none of your damn business!”

He’s so basic.

It’s true I don’t know what I’m talking about, but you’re still falling for it, aren’t you?

“I’m not the traitor,” he says simply. “If I were, I’d manipulate you to like me. You’re about as easy to play as a cheap kazoo.”

Being a little cruel, aren’t you?

His head’s starting to hurt. For some reason—he himself feels sick. And Souda, well...

Souda’s already sniffling. In tears. Whatever he tries to say just comes out as blubbering. It’s pitiful. So much so that Matsuda pulls back with a groan.

His head really, really hurt. He rifles through his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and a pill bottle. He lays the former on top of Souda’s quivering head before prying open the bottle. As he turns on his heel, he pops a couple into his mouth and swallows them dry with a groan.

He needed a nap after all that, thus he’s on his way.

--

“Hey. You.” Souda jerked his thumb off to the distance. “We’re going. We need to have a talk.”

“Huh. Kay.”

Once they got to the beach, Souda took several deep breathes. Psyching himself up for what was to come.

There really were only a number of ways things would culminate. A simple exchange of words was not going to be it.

“Y-You—!”

At the same time, when Souda spun on his heel—

“OOF! L-Let go! Let go!”

Matsuda was a bit surprised that Souda had the gall to throw a punch first. Not so surprised that he lacked the reflexes to dodge, to seize the mechanic by the arm. He threw the mechanic down, pinning him down front-first into the sand with Matsuda sitting on his back. Souda yelped when his arm was twisted in Matsuda’s grip.

“L-Let go,” he choked out, slapping the sand. “U-Urgh... Urgh...!”

His eyes were screwed shut, likely to keep the sand out.

“S-Seriously?! You couldn’t let me throw one punch for what an asshole you’ve been?!”

“I mean, if you want to upset the princess, that’s your prerogative,” Matsuda hummed before pulling back. “Unfortunately, I don’t like getting punched if I can avoid it.”

“T-Then what about—?!” Souda ended up coughing. The idiot must have inhaled some sand. Feeling bad for him, Matsuda helped him to his feet. Souda’s still coughing pitifully. “Urgh... You’re suuuuch a piece of wooooork.”

“I carry scalpels around,” Matsuda reminded him, making him freeze. A look of fear and then—that fright melted into exasperation.

“Alright,” Souda sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Alright, I get it. You really like flaunting, don’t ya? You’re the worst.”

Matsuda hummed, but Souda went on.

“Y’know...you’re scarily good at reading people, too. You were right about me. I changed my appearance to throw my old self away,” he admits. “I used to be a cowardly loser who thought highly of anyone who bothered to give me the time of day. Even if they lied to me...even if they betrayed me. I was just too much of a wimp to admit that I was being taken advantage of.”

I was just guessing, Matsuda internally admitted. And I still think you’re a coward and a loser. But for different reasons.

“Accepting vulnerability is the first step,” he ended up saying. “You can’t just say you’ll change even if you’re dramatic about it.”

“W-Well, a lot did change when I...changed...” Souda trails off.

“But not the kind of positive change you were hoping for,” Matsuda guessed again. “Were you uncomfortable?”

Souda blanched.

“God, I hate to admit it, but...you’re too sharp for your own good.”

Matsuda said nothing.

“You’re smart. You’re really fucking smart.” Souda gritted his teeth and met his gaze head-on. “That’s why—I’m gonna keep my guard up around ya.”

“That’s fine,” Matsuda replied, shrugging. “There are people you can relax around, and people you can’t. I don’t blame you at all.”

“You’re fine with it,” Souda reiterated as if he wasn’t sure. “Even if...I never trust you...or believe in you... You’re just...fine with it?”

“I’m fine,” Matsuda repeated. “Are you?”

Souda flinched.

“I... Geez! Playing those sick head games with me again!” He shook his head furiously, covering it with his hands as if that’d be a good defense. “W-Well! I won’t let ya! Better fucking watch yourself, Matsuda! Don’t even THINK of trying anything funny!”

“Got it,” Matsuda droned with disinterest. “Would you like to shake on it?”

“K-Keep away from me,” Souda yelped, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Just—just stay the hell away from me! I’m gonna keep an eye on you, but... I don’t want to have to deal with you if I don’t have to!”

“Alright. Fine.”

Souda gave him a suspicious look. He got flustered and quickly turned away. Without looking at Matsuda, he blindly threw back the handkerchief. It only fluttered to the ground, landing in the sand.

“Save your pity,” Souda muttered darkly. “Goodbye.”

When Souda left, it was with an air of finality. Matsuda decided to just leave things like that between them.

Kneeling down to retrieve his handkerchief, Matsuda did pause for a moment. He shook the sand off the fabric.

“...I don’t plan on betraying anyone, not even you,” he spoke slowly and stupidly. “I do in fact...care about lives and I don’t want to see them lost.”

Would that have really been so hard to say?

He really did have such an awful personality. Even if it wouldn’t have worked out for him, it wouldn’t have hurt to have tried.

There are people you can relax around and people that you can’t. There are people you can be friends with and people you that can’t. People you should trust and people that you shouldn’t. You can’t always control which one you’ll be, because it all depends on how others feel. You can’t control that. Even if that’s technically true...

He feels like he’s making excuses. It feels bad.

His head hurting doesn’t help. As he gripped that handkerchief, he took notice of a crab burying itself in the sand down below.

I should do better. I should be better. Maybe if I tell myself enough times, it’ll happen.

[impala-dreamer]

Watch Your F!cking Mouth!

SPN FanFic

~Dean gets whammied with an especially frustrating curse and Y/N tries to keep him calm, much to her amusement and annoyance.~

Dean x Reader

1,984 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Foul Language. Oral Sex. Intercourse. Comedy.

A/N: I'll be honest, this took me all day to write because I kept stopping to laugh. I just... Idek. It's ridiculous. Enjoy :)

My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon

“Son of a broadcaster!”

Y/N looked up as Dean stumbled backwards, reaching down to rub his shin after whacking it against the bedpost.

“Still?” she asked; hint of a laugh on her breath.

“Yeah, yeah, shuttie.” He rolled his eyes and stood up, limping his way towards the couch. "You know, this is some real hogswallop! I mean what the fig!"

Y/N's laugh broke free and Dean growled as he fell down onto the sofa.

"This isn't funny! It's balderdash!"

Trying to calm down, Y/N put her book down and frowned at him. "I'm sorry, baby. This is really fucked up. Super funny...but fucked up."

"It's not ducking funny!" he shouted, sulking into the cushions. "What the fork kinda nasty basted witch curses someone like this? It's like my tongue has flagging autocorrect!"

"I only got like half of that, to be honest."

“Please shut the freight up and leave me be.” Dean sighed, letting his head fall against the seat back. “I just wanna be able to open my gold digging mouth and have the right frosted words come out!”

Quickly, Y/N left her seat and went to him, hating to see him so frustrated, even if it made her laugh harder than she had in a long time. For the last six hours, Dean had been cursed with the inability to curse as if he were stuck on some network television show. The worst he’d been able to muster was a ‘freakin’’ when Sam had knocked over his beer, but after a while, he just gave up and stopped talking. It was quiet without him, but Y/N couldn’t imagine how tough it was to think one thing and have your tongue twist it into another.

“Hey,” she said softly, perching on the coffee table in front of him. “Sam said it should only last a few more hours. Then you’ll be back to cursing like the sailor I know and love.”

“It’s not just that,” he said with a whimper, shaking his head at the ceiling. “I can not curse, it’s not like I have to constantly-”

“I know, baby,” she soothed, placing her hand on his knee.

“It’s just that I should be able to say what I wanna say when I flamingo say it!”

Y/N coughed to hide her laugh and Dean’s head popped up, his eyes narrowed on her smirk. “Don’t laugh at me, please. For frying sake, it actually hurts. Like there’s a sharp pain in the front of my head every time I try to say ‘fling’.” Dean pointed to the spot, right above his left eyebrow and cringed as he tried to curse. “Salad dressing! Gah!”

“Well, stop, ya moron!” Y/N teased, scooting a big closer. “Just stop talking!”

Dean glared. “Do you have any idea how hard that is for me? Come on.”

“You wanna talk about your feelings about where our relationship is going? That shuts you up quick.”

Her smirk was on point.

His eye roll was superb.

Y/N sighed but kept a sweet smile. “Dean, just...relax, OK? It’ll be over soon, I promise.” Her fingers curled around his knee.

He let out a breath and his shoulders dropped a bit. “Fine. Yeah.”

“There’s my good boy,” she teased, pushing her hand slowly up his thick thigh, nails dragging on the rough denim as she came back down. “Just relax.”

Dean shivered as her thumb brushed over his dick. “This is… quite relaxing… farm…”

Y/N bit her lip to keep from laughing, wanting to focus on distracting them both from his new speech impediment. “Shh…” Her palm rubbed against him and Y/N felt his cock push back, growing hard beneath the tightness of his jeans.

“Feels so nice, baby,” he whispered, wiggling his ass against the seat to try and ease the strain. “Love when you play with my coins.”

She let out a deep, slow breath to calm her giggles and set her other hand on his leg, sliding off of the table onto her knees. “I like it too, Dean,” she cooed, massaging his inner thighs with both hands. “But you know what I love?”

His eyes glazed over as he looked to her in lustful anticipation.

She bit her lip and reached for his belt, easily loosening the leather strap. “I love…” The brass button came free with a pop. “Sucking…” She eased the zipper down slowly, carefully. “Your big…” Reaching in, she pushed aside the thin cotton of his boxers. “Beautiful…” She pulled him free and Dean moaned in desperation as she bent her lips to the swelling head. “Cock.”

“Oh, Jiminy Christmas!”

Y/N kissed the tip and Dean whimpered pitifully.

“Please…”

“Love it when you beg, Dean,” she growled, flicking the tip of her tongue against the base of his cock, watching as he twitched. “Such a good boy.”

Dean lifted his hips as she licked a stripe from base to tip and grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her to hold still while he groaned. “Stop forging teasing me and get to work.”

Her smile was abandoned as Dean jerked his hips, shoving his cock between her lips. She hummed in excitement and sucked hard, sealing her lips around him as his hand pushed her down.

“Yes...fang...you take my cab so good, baby.”

His cock hit the back of her throat and Y/N gagged loudly, drool spilling from the corners of her mouth as he released his hold on her head.

“Flame, baby, love that sound. Makes my drum so hard.”

Y/N did her best not to laugh, trying to ignore his insane dirty talk and keep her mind on her task. As long as he didn’t talk, she was fine, working his cock like a pro, teasing and taking him deeper and deeper with each pass.

When his breath quickened and his moans became dark, Y/N pulled back, looking up at him with innocent, wide eyes, her lips bobbing gently over his leaking head.

Dean reached for her, big hands closing around the soft flesh of her upper arms. “Get up here,” he breathed. “Golly, I wanna factor that sweet little poinsetta so faking bad.”

She laughed, she couldn’t help it. Y/N closed her eyes and sealed her lips tight as the chuckle shook her entire body. “I can’t. I’m so sorry, Dean. I can’t.”

His grip tightened on her arms. “Please.” His face was red, muscles in his throat tense and exposed; a thin sheet of sweat sparkled on his brow and upper lip. “Please, baby. I gotta falafel you. Now.”

Dean grit his teeth in a growl but Y/N couldn’t take much more.

“Baby,” she laughed, sitting back on her heels, “I...I can’t…”

Green eyes went wide with pained disappointment. “What? No…” He reached for her, leaning forward to grab her face between his warm hands. “Please, Y/N. Don’t leave me like this,” he begged, the pathetic yet passionate tone in his voice making her pussy throb. “I need you so bad.”

While Y/N pondered the situation, wondering if she could stash her giggles while he took her for a ride, Dean sucked his bottom lip fully between his teeth and then slowly let it slide back out, wet and red and swollen. Y/N’s cunt clenched and her heart raced; her fate was sealed.

“Please.”

Y/N sucked in a deep breath and jumped up, opening her jeans as she stood. “OK,” she told him firmly, “but you keep your mouth shut. I can’t take anymore, I really can’t.”

Dean’s gleeful smile was perfection, dimples and lines and bright teeth on display. “Yes, totally. No more talking.” He zipped his lips with two fingers and nodded enthusiastically as she peeled her panties away. “Not another word.”

“You promise?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

Dean held his breath as Y/N climbed into his lap, kissing him hard while she gripped his cock and rubbed it through her slick. His eyes rolled back when she rolled her hips, grinding her clit against his hardness; grabbed her thighs as she slowly sank down.

“Oh…f-”

Y/N bit down hard on his lip to stop his cursed cursing and his words turned into a yelp instead.

“R-ride me,” he gasped, blunt nails digging into her tender flesh.

Setting her hands on his shoulders, Y/N began to ride, slowly bouncing in his lap and watching as he fell apart.

“Y/N…” Dean buried his face in her shirt, panting as he struggled to hold his tongue.

“Shhh…” Y/N fucked down hard, hoping to distract his brain, pull his mouth away from words and push it towards empty whimpers and lustful moans.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, breath heavy against her neck as he kissed any place he could reach. “Feel so good on my camp, fringe!”

Y/N slapped a hand to the back of his head and tugged at his short hair. “Dean!”  

“Sorry, sassafras! Flange, it just- you feel so amazing. Please, don’t stop!”  

Her nails scraped across his scalp. “Then shut up!”

“Yes. Shut up. Yes!”

She licked into his mouth and bounced faster, feeling the moment blossom.

“Holy feathers, I-I’m gonna capitalize! Fire! Freckles!”

“Do it,” she moaned, tugging on his hair until his chin lifted to hers. “Give it to me, Dean.”

It did not take long. Dean held her close, arms tight around her back, hands pawing at her shoulders and ass as he came, a strangled cry filling the room.

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”

Y/N laughed so hard she nearly fell off of his lap, giving up entirely on cumming or trying to stay calm. “Did you just? Really? Oh my god, Dean.”

He kissed her cheek and pulled his lips across, capturing her shaking lips with a sloppy kiss. “Shh…”

“Don’t shush me, Winchester,” she laughed, kissing him back quickly before peeling herself away. “This is too much.”

He caught her hand before she went too far, yanking her back so hard that she fell into his arms. “I’m not done with you,” he said firmly, another kiss stopping her laugh and melting every muscle. Dean pushed her down onto her back, shifting to sit between her legs. “You need to confetti.”

She whimpered around a laugh as Dean leaned down, laying kiss after kiss on her belly. “Please stop talking…”

He lifted his eyes to hers with a smirk as his hands wrapped around her thighs. “I’m done talking,” he said, licking his lips. “I’m gonna eat this prism until you crank all over my face.”

“Jesus christ, shut up!”

Her frustration turned to pleasure as Dean kept his word, sucking hard on her clit as his fingers caressed her pulsing cunt, massaging deep inside as her body writhed above.

“Fuck! Dean!”

He never let up, drawing her orgasm out until her legs began to shake. When her thighs clamped around his head, he slowed to a kitten lick, enjoying the glow of her smile and the sexy whimpers as she came down.

“Come here,” she whispered, releasing his head and reaching for him, needing him close.

Dean smiled sweetly and wiped his mouth before sliding up her body and collapsing on top of her. “Damn, baby,” he sighed. “That was fan-fucking-tastic.”

Y/N gasped, eyes wide and smiling. “Oh my god, Dean! You said fuck!”

“I did?”

“...yeah!”

“I didn’t even notice. Fuck. Oh! I said it again!” He grinned like a school boy and laughed. “Yes! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fucking fucker!” Excited, he jumped off of the couch and pumped a fist in the air. “Fuck that fucking bitch-ass witch in her ratty old cunt! Fuck yes! This is fucking awesome!”

Y/N sat up, shaking her head as she reached for her pants. “Oh, Dean,” she sighed. “Such a fucking potty mouth…”

2020 Forever Tags: @67-chevy-baby @akhuna01 @amanda-teaches @autumnmoon @because-imma-lady-assface @blushingjared @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @classic-rock-angel @coopercharlie16 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansgirl215 @deans-baby-momma @deangirl7695 @deanwinchesterswitch @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @edge-oftonight @emoryhemsworth @eternal-elir @fandom-princess-forevermore @fangirlxwritesx67 @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @herbologystudent252 @heycasbutt @hornyandsmol @ilovefanfic86 @i-love-superhero @ilsawasanacrobat @imjustadrummer @ivvitm1109 @joseyrw @justagirlinafandomworld @justcallmeasmodeus @katymacsupernatural @laxe-from-outer-space @leatherandfrackles @lessons-of-red @letsby @letsdisneythings @lonewolf471 @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @mellbelle45 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @onethirstyunicorn @our-jensen-ackles-love @screechingartisancashbailiff @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @starboycas @stephaniecanfield96us @stoneyggirl @squirrelnotsam @thebookisbtr @the-chocolate-moose @thehardcoveraddict @thevelvetseries @veevm @winchestersister55 @wendibird @winecatsandpizza @winterpoohbear

and bc I think you could use a laugh: @kittenofdoomage​

[paperbodiesamongthestars]

Day 13: Hayfever

It wasn’t until spring rolled around that Steve got his first glimpse past Billy Hargrove’s facade. Before November, he had been all antagonism, sneering and taunting and demonstrating a casual disregard for the concept of Steve’s personal space. After November, he retreated into a chilly silence. Steve hadn’t actually realized just how much time Hargrove spent fucking with him until he stopped. It was nice, at first, to move through his days without Billy constantly on his heels, but then it just got weird. Because Billy may have stopped messing with him, but he hadn’t stopped paying attention. Everywhere Steve went, he felt those eyes on him, and he was constantly turning around just to meet that intense blue gaze. It kept Steve on edge, constantly expecting something to happen, but nothing ever did. Billy kept his distance, never talked to Steve. He just stared. 

And then spring rolled around, and the pollen count started climbing, and Steve refilled his prescription for allergy medication not a moment too soon. And Billy Hargrove started walking around town looking miserable—nose red, tissues trailing from every pocket, eyes streaming. He sniffled his way through every class. Steve spent a week or so enjoying Billy’s suffering, and absolutely refused to feel bad about it. His face had hurt for ages; Billy absolutely deserved the temporary discomfort of bad allergies. Steve fully expected that Billy would eventually show up breathing easily again; it wasn’t like it was a tough diagnosis. Or treatment. Steve had his own pills in his backpack and eyedrops next to his sink at home. But apparently Billy either didn’t know that or didn’t care, because he was just as miserable on Monday as he had been the previous week. It was possible that Steve was starting to feel just the tiniest bit bad for him.  

Billy stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He was so fucking sick of this, but of course Neil refused to take him to the doctor. It was “just seasonal allergies,” after all, surely he didn’t need a doctor for that. Turns out maybe he did; the over-the-counter stuff he could afford wasn’t doing shit for him. 

“If you sneeze one more time…” he warned his reflection. There was a snort behind him, and he turned around to see Steve Harrington. He flushed a little. He thought he was alone, obviously. 

“Not even you can fight allergies through sheer force of will, Hargrove,” Steve said. He swung his backpack up onto the sink next to Billy’s and started digging through it. 

“I’m not allergic to anything,” Billy said stubbornly, the effect ruined a little bit by his stuffed-up nose. Steve looked at him incredulously. 

“Maybe not in California,” he said, “but you’re clearly allergic to something here.” Steve found what he was looking for in his bag. He pulled out a little bottle and unscrewed the cap, tipping a pill into his hand. He held it out to Billy, who looked at it suspiciously. Steve rolled his eyes. 

“I am not nearly invested enough in this—“ he gestured between them— “to carry around a bottle of pills on the off chance that I’ll get the opportunity to poison you with one. Take it or don’t,” he said, placing the pill carefully on the edge of the sink. “But you’ll be a lot happier if you do.” He closed the bottle and tossed it back into his bag. Then he put his backpack on and left the bathroom. Billy stared at the pill for another moment, and then took it. It wasn’t until later that he realized, with a little shock of surprise, that the only thing Steve had done in the bathroom was give him medication. 

He was even more surprised the following day, when Steve cornered him at his locker at the end of the day. He had arrived that morning actually able to breathe, which felt miraculous, but he still wasn’t about to track Steve down to beg him for more pills. He still had his dignity. As it turned out, though, Steve apparently wasn’t going to make him beg. He was nicer than Billy would have been, had the roles been reversed, but he didn’t waste time on pleasantries. 

“Here,” Steve said, holding out a paper bag. Billy glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. He really wanted what he suspected was in that bag—he thought he could actually feel his nasal passages starting to close up again—but that didn’t mean he had to let Steve know that. 

“What is that, Harrington?” he asked warily. Steve huffed impatiently.  

“You know what’s in the bag. Just take it, Hargrove.” Billy opened his mouth, ready to argue about it, but Steve rolled his eyes and spoke before Billy could. “I don’t feel sorry for you, and you’re not a charity case or whatever.” Billy closed his mouth. When had he become so predictable? Steve kept talking. “I’m doing this for me. I have enough trouble concentrating in history without you sniffling the entire time, so just take the goddamn bag.” Billy stared at it for a moment and then reached out and took it. He wanted to ask why Steve was being nice to him, but he also didn’t want to call attention to it and run the risk that Steve would think better of it and take the bag back.

“I could tutor you,” Billy said abruptly, instead of thank you. Steve’s eyebrows went up. 

“What?” he asked. 

“In history.” Billy cleared his throat. “I’m doing well in it. So if you need, um. If you need help, I could…” Steve watched him struggle through, a slow smile spreading over his face. 

“Sure,” he finally said. “Come over Thursday? Bring all your notes. Mine are a mess.” Steve slapped him on the shoulder and walked off down the hall. Billy watched him go, ignoring the warmth trying to spread in his chest. Just as Steve turned the corner, Billy sneezed three times in quick succession. He shook his head and headed off to find a water fountain. He needed a goddamn allergy pill. 

[artificialqueens]

No longer lonely (Jackie/Jan) -Katheriney

Jackie was not very old when she first fell in love, maybe 16, and like most first loves she fell hard. She wasn’t prepared to be feeling so strongly about another person. Of course she thought she had been in love before. She had boyfriends in the past and convinced both them and herself that she was head over heels in love, but that was nothing compared to the fire in her heart that she felt now.

Her family had just moved and her junior year of high school had not started as great as she imagined it would. She had no friends and didn’t really know how to make any. She had the same friends throughout her entire life and now she felt as if she were thrust into isolation in this new town. 

She had somehow made it the first quarter with no friends. She dreaded going to school. She sat alone at a stool by the window to eat lunch and didn’t speak up in her classes. But, all the silence and loneliness ended when the new quarter started. It was the second term of her french class, so it was surprising that there was a new face in the classroom. The girl oozed confidence. Jackie’s teacher told the girl to go sit at her table. Jackie was not happy about this because she had enjoyed having the table to herself, but she smiled up at the blonde girl when her teacher motioned her to wave. 

“Hi,” the shorter girl said briskly to her, setting down her purple book bag and taking the seat next to hers. Jackie wasn’t sure if she was supposed to respond, so she didn’t. She took note of the girl’s wavy blonde hair and purple miniskirt riding up as she crossed her legs. She made herself look away from the short skirt. She didn’t know why she wanted to look so bad, but didn’t want the girl to catch her staring at her lap.The teacher stood from behind her desk and walked the small distance to the board to start the lesson for that day. “I’m Jan,” she whispered from beside her. She had gotten a lot closer since the last time Jackie had looked over, so when she did turn her head towards her they were almost nose to nose. She jumped a bit and Jan laughed at her.

“Jan, is there something funny about les contes that I don’t know about?” The teacher turned towards the girls and put a hand on her hip. 

“Nope, sorry ma'am.” With that the teacher made her way back to writing and explaining. 

Jan bumped her shoulder. Jackie assumed it was an accident, so she pretended she didn’t feel it. Jan decided to shake her arm to get her attention instead. “What’s your name?“ 

“Jackie,” She said as softly as possible as to not get in trouble. 

“Hmmmm.” Jan leaned her head onto her hand. “You don’t look like a Jackie, maybe an Esther or a Nadia. No! I know! You look like a Leila!”

“Jan! Can you at least pretend you’re paying any attention. You know you need this class to graduate.” The teacher spoke to her. 

“Yeah yeah, of course, sorry.” Jan leaned down to her bag and took out a notebook and a pencil. “I’ll take notes, promise.” Jan flashed a smile and the teacher seemingly believed her, but Jan was not taking notes. She was writing a message for Jackie. 

The teacher and I don’t get along if you haven’t noticed. I barely pass her classes. Why haven’t I seen you before, Leila? Are you a freshman? -Jan

Jackie slid the notebook over to herself and started to write. 

I’m a junior, actually, not a freshman. I just moved here in August. -JACKIE

I think you mean -Leila and I like your glasses by the way -Jan

Of course, that’s what I meant. Thank you, I like your hair. -LEILA

And just like that the bell rang, making Jan grab her notebook and shove it in her bag before booking it out the door. Jackie felt like she had been forgotten already. She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked out of the classroom. She saw Jan standing in a huddle of football players and cheerleaders. So, she was one of those girls. No wonder she had left her so quickly. She couldn’t risk being seen with Jackie in these public hallways.

Jackie went about her day as usual. She went to her two classes before it was lunch time. She took her time to get to the cafeteria. Once she got there she sat in her usual seat by the window and took out her lunch that she had packed that morning, a salad and fruit. She was about to dig in before there was a plop in the usually vacant seat beside her. She turned to see Jan sitting with her hands in her lap and a smile on her face. “Hey, Leila! You do know only weird people sit in these stools, right?” She tugged at her arm and gestured for her to grab her lunch. “C'mon, you can come sit with me!” Jan linked their arms and together they strutted across the cafeteria to Jan’s table full of sports players and pretty girls. Well, Jan strutted. Jackie just shuffled along with her, holding her lunch. “This is Jackie. She just moved here and she’s in my french class.” Hearing Jan say her real name after so much time took her by surprise. She was sure the girl forgot and really thought her name was Leila. 

“Hi Jackie, I’m Jaida. You can take this seat by me and Heidi.” Jackie gladly took the seat and Jan sat next to her. Jaida had on a football jersey that was so big that is was obviously her boyfriend’s. Heidi had a short bob with a bang. 

Conversations continued around her. She didn’t feel quite comfortable enough to insert herself into them, but listened and smiled and nodded to anyone that addressed her. Jan had long since finished eating and was obviously getting restless, constantly looking over to Jackie before turning her head back to her other friends. Jan moved her hand off the table and to her lap. She kept her head towards the football players on the other side of the round table as she slowly slid her hand from her lap to Jackie’s. Jackie froze mid bite before realizing what she had done and stuffing the strawberry into her mouth. 

“What’s your next class?” Jan asked her, but she didn’t realize she was talking to her, so Jan squeezed her thigh a little to get her attention. 

“Oh! Umm, I don’t have a class in the next period.” Jackie stammered out, trying her very best to sound normal.

“Great, do you wanna go to Starbucks with me? I’m going through withdrawls.” Jan asked and Jackie could only nod. Jan took her hand back and Jackie almost whined. “Let’s get a head start if you’re done eating." 

"I am!” So Jan stood from her seat followed closely by Jackie. Her friends said goodbye to both of them. They smiled and whispered among themselves. It made Jackie self conscious. She felt like they saw Jan’s hand. She wasn’t sure if it was friendly or flirty, but if she were like that with her friends they shouldn’t care if she did it with her. So, what were they whispering and giggling about. 

She got into the passenger seat of Jan’s orange kia soul. Jan threw her bag into the backseat and Jackie did the same. After plugging her phone into the aux she started to play an Ariana Grande song that Jackie couldn’t name. 

They started on the short drive to the coffee joint. The music helped fill the silence, since neither girl had spoken up yet. Jackie played with her hands and kept her eyes focused on the road. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I think I may have gotten the wrong impression of the situation.” Jan spoke clearly said calmly.

“You haven’t made me uncomfortable. What did you think the situation was?” Jackie asked, finally turning to look at the girl who had her left leg up and one hand in her lap. She looked so relaxed behind the wheel, unlike Jackie.

“I thought you were into me because you were staring and flustered. Did I get the wrong impression?" 

"No, I am definitely into you.” Jackie said and just like that she had said it. There was no turning back. 

“Oh.” Jan turned the car into the Starbucks line. “Thank god. I thought I was going crazy and making things up.” Jan sighed and turned to a wide eyed Jackie and smiled at her. 

“You’re gorgeous.” Jackie let slip out.

“Oh yeah?” She said as she paid for both her coffee. She said a thank you, took her coffee, and went on her way back to school. She switched the hand she was steering and let her free hand rest on Jackie’s thigh once more. Jackie took a shaky breath, so Jan slid her hand around to rest it on her inner thigh. Jackie subconsciously spread her legs further to encourage Jan up on her exploration. Jan took the invitation and glided her hand further up and squeezed just enough to get Jackie to squeak, begging her to just touch her where she needed it. Jan removed her hand all together and used it to turn into an empty parking lot close to the school. 

She put the car in park and turned to see Jackie sitting there all pretty there, looking like she had already been fucked. Her hair was tousled. Her lips were parted. Her pupils were blown wide. Jan just wanted to eat her up. She held the girl’s chin in her hand guiding her towards her as she slid a hand up her leg and rested it on her waist. Jan leaned in to kiss her softly. She grasped her waist making Jackie gasp under her touch. Jan slowly slid her hand down her stomach. She broke the kiss long enough to make sure Jackie was sure she wanted this. Jackie frantically nodded and spread her legs before leaning forward to kiss her again. Jan did as the girl wanted and lifted her skirt and applied pressure over her lace panties. “Mmm lace?” Jan teased. 

“Yeah, ah, do you like them? Ah, that feels so good.” Jackie moaned softly.

“Oh, baby, they are so beautiful.” Jan pushed the panties aside and started pressing small circles to her clit. Jackie basically screamed at the direct contact and lifted her hips towards her. “Woah there, princess.” Jan taunted as she pushed her hips back down to the seat. 

“I’ve never done this before.” Jackie blurted.

“Honey, I’ll make you feel good. If you’ll let me, I’ll make you scream for me.” Jan promised her

“Please, please, please, Jan, please make me feel so good,” Jackie begged.

Jan pulled her lacy panties down to her knees and used her thumb to circle her clit, rubbing two fingers over her entrance. She used her other hand to hold her down. She slipped a finger into her slowly and only halfway before Jackie was grasping her wrist. “Want me to slow down, baby?” Jackie nodded. Jan removed her finger, but continued massaging her with her thumb. Reaching her head down, she started to lay kisses along Jackie’s neck and collarbone. She pressed her palm firmly over her and Jackie squirmed and mewled in her seat. 

“I’m gonna cum.” Jackie panted into Jan’s ear.

“Let go for me, pretty girl.” And she does. She shrieks and shakes. Tears trickle down her cheeks. Jan wipes them away. She tucks Jackie’s dark hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead. She gives her time to catch her breath before letting go to start the car. 

“Wait!” Jackie grabs Jan’s arm to keep her from switching gears. “Where are we going?” She asked her all doe eyed and cute.

Jan can’t help but smile at her. “School. You need to get to class on time." 

"So do you.” Jackie whispered. 

“I already skipped last period. It wouldn’t hurt to skip another, but I don’t wanna be a bad influence on you.” Jan replied.

“You skipped class to be with me?" 

"Of course I did, baby.”

Jackie may not have known that she was only going to fall further and further for the girl sat next to her, but she did know that she had never taken to anyone as quickly as Jan. She knew that Jan would be at the forefront of her mind firing every minute of every day.

Jan let her off at the front door telling her if she ran she could make it to class in time while she parked. She waved and did as she was told. Jan was right. She did make it on time.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Real Ghostbusters: Part Three

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,274

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

This case was taking a lot out of you, and you decided to sit on one of the couches with a glass of water in your hands. Your head is still throbbing with intense pain, and it’s not helping that Dean is pestering you about it while Sam paces on the phone nearby. Becky’s eyes were on Sam longingly, and Chuck was watching her admire the tall man. He seems to have a thing for her, but she’s clearly not interested in him. The couple are close enough to you but far enough to give you some space.

“Seriously, would you please tell me what’s wrong? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Dean sighed.

“Dean, please,” you whimpered quietly.

“What is going on?”

“It’s Amara!” you yelled, causing a few heads to turn to you including Chuck’s. 

Lowering your voice enough to get the attention away from you, you looked at Dean in pain. Everyone went back to their own business, but Chuck’s eyes remained on you.

“It’s Amara, Dean. She’s in my head and she won’t leave. It’s like there is another person up there constantly bugging me and telling me shit. She’s telling me one thing, but the angels are telling me something different. She says she wants to get her family back, but Gabriel says that she’s evil and wants nothing but destruction. I don’t know who to listen to, and frankly, you asking me what’s wrong every five fucking minutes isn’t helping!”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No,” you sighed, calming down just a bit. Actually, getting that out helped your headache some. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. It’s just overwhelming.”

“I’ll stop asking. You’ll tell me when you’re ready, okay? I’ll be here when you do. Deal?”

“Deal,” you nodded.

Shifting your gaze to Chuck and Becky, you caught his eye. He quickly looked away as if he was hiding something. Maybe he was, but you just didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. Instead, Sam came back after getting off the phone to tell you two what he found out about Miss Gore and the kids she killed.

“Alright, so that was a guy with the County Historical Society. Not only did Leticia Gore butcher four boys, but one of them was her own son.”

“Her son?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. According to the police at the time, she scalped the kid.”

“Oh, that's it, I'm gonna deep fry this bitch extra crispy. Dude say where she was buried?”

“He doesn't know.”

“That’s great,” you said sarcastically.

“How’s your head doing?” Sam asked.

Before you had a chance to respond, you heard excited chatter from Tasha, Demian, and Barnes as they walked into the room.

“Check it out. There's the orphanage, here's the carriage house, and right there... cemetery,” Barnes said as he portrayed Sam.

“You think that's where Leticia's planted?” Tasha asked.

To go with her blue contacts, she had bracelets that lit up bright blue to symbolize your magic coming from your hands. It was weird to see how far people will go to get dressed up as a character… only you weren’t a character.

“It's worth a shot,” Barnes said. Getting up, you walked over to the trio with the brothers hot on your heels. You reached out to touch the map and only got a feel for it when Barnes yanked it away. “Hey, hey!”

“Hey, do you mind?” Demian asked, out of character.

“It’s real,” you said to the brothers. “A century old, at least, and he's right, there is a cemetery on the grounds.”

“Where'd you get that?” Dean asked.

“It's called a game pal. It ain't called charity.”

“Yeah right. Gimme the map, Chuckles.”

“Yeah, well, you're the Chuckles, Chuckles. Besides, Dean don't listen to nobody,” Demian pulled back his jacket to reveal a plastic gun.

“Dean! Cool it!” Barnes played Sam.

Dean pulled out his own gun, his Taurus, to threaten the man. However, his brother stopped him before he could do something drastic.

“Dean!” Sam scoffed.

“What! They're fucking annoying.”

“Look, guys,” you took over to talk to the three people. “We just want to find the bones, okay? We all do. We should work together. It would go faster, you know?”

“Ahem. We... ah... we get the Sizzler gift card,” Barnes said after exchanging glances with his friends.

“Fine,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“And we get to be Sam, Dean, and Y/N,” Tasha pointed out.

“Fine,” you sighed.

“Yes,” Demian whispered to himself as the fake trio lead the group out of the hotel.

They were much faster at this because they were the ones who were most excited. Demian turned to look at you over his shoulder as they walked.

“Hey, Rufus, Bobby, and Ellen, would you hurry it up?”

“Are you alright?” Sam asked his brother who clearly didn’t like this.

“I’m trying to be.”

“So, where were we?” Barnes asked his partners.

“Right, got it. Ahem,” Barnes goes into character. “Why are we even here Dean? You just following dad's footsteps like a good little soldier? You that desperate for approval?”

“This isn't you talking Sam.”

“See that's the difference between you and me. I got a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic.”

“Sam, please stop it,” Tasha cried.

Okay, this was getting really old.

“So, what are ya going to do Sam? Are you going to kill me?” Demian asked.

“Man, I am so sick of you telling me what to do!” Barnes shouted.

“Alright, you know what? That's it. That is it!” Dean exploded, walking ahead of the group to take charge.

You were pissed too, but Dean was more so than everyone else.

“What's wrong Bobby?” Demian asked.

“I'm not Bobby, okay? You're not Sam. You're not Dean. You’re not Y/N. What is wrong with you? Why in the hell would you choose to be these guys?” Dean shouted angrily.

“Because we're fans. Like you,” Barnes said in his normal voice.

“No. I am not a fan, okay. Not fans. In fact, I think that the Dean, Sam, and Y/N story sucks. It is not fun. It is not entertaining. It is a river of shit that would send most people howling to the nut house. So, you listen to me. Their pain is not for your amusement. I mean do you think they enjoy being treated like... like circus freaks?”

“Uh… I don't think they care, because they're fictional characters!” Demian pointed out.

“Oh, they care. Believe me. They care a lot,” Dean glared, storming off down the path leaving everyone to stare off after him.

Sighing, you followed him so that Sam could deal with the fans.

“Dean,” you said as you stopped him.

“Tell me this doesn’t bother you too!”

“It does, okay? And it’s making my headache worse, but we just need to find the bones and then we’re out of here. Don’t pay attention to them. Pay attention to me,” you said, putting your hands on his arms.

“Whatever,” he scoffed.

“That’s my big strong hunter,” you teased, linking your arm with his as you continued on down the path to the cemetery.

When you got to it, everyone started shining their lights on the different graves in the small cemetery. After looking around, you and Sam found Leticia’s grave and Dean found the four boys the legend talks about.

“I found the four boys.”

“Here’s Leticia Gore,” you pointed out.

Looking up, you noticed Barnes, Demian, and Tasha going off on their own, shining their flashlights in the bushes.

“Uh, what are you guys doing?” you asked.

“We're looking for bones genius. They gotta be around here somewhere,” Demian said.

“Okay. Generally, bones are in the ground,” you said, dropping the duffel bag you carried with you that had your shovels, kerosene, and salt in them.

“Yeah, I know that. I just,” he paused when you, Sam, and Dean took out shovels, and he dropped the act. “Wait, hold on. Are you guys serious?”

“Deadly,” Dean answered.

“We're not really digging up graves, you guys, we're just playing a game,” Tasha pointed out.

“Trust us, you want to win the game, right?” you asked as you started to dig up Leticia’s grave.

With the help of the brothers, you got to the coffin pretty quickly. Sam, Dean, Demian, Tasha, and Barnes were outside holding their flashlights inside the grave while you were inside the hole. Once you got to the coffin, you put your shovel down to open the coffin. As soon as you touched it, the wind started picking up. Opening the coffin, you coughed at the stench, but you got used to it pretty quickly. On the other hand, Tasha, Demian, and Barnes did not.

“That's not a plastic skeleton. That's a—that's a skeleton skeleton,” Demian gasped.

“You just dug up a real grave!” Tasha shouted.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“You guys are nuts.”

“I thought you guys wanted to be hunters!” Sam asked.

“Hunters aren't real man. This isn't real,” Demian freaked.

The fake trio started to walk away because they clearly didn’t want to do this.

“My God. You guys have seriously lost your grip on this—” Barnes stopped short when he saw who was right behind him.

“What?” Sam asked.

The spirit of Leticia was right behind him, and when Sam faced her, she growled angrily.

“Naughty, naughty, naughty!” Leticia backhands Sam across the cemetery, and the fake trio turns to run away.

Dean was about to go and help Sam when you jumped out of the grave.

“Dean, I got this! Burn the bones!” you yelled as you ran to help the fans.

Barnes tripped and fell, and Tasha and Demian turned back to help him. They got their friend up, but Leticia was standing right in front of them with a scowl.

“Oh my God!!” Demian screamed.

“Naughty, naughty, naughty!!” Leticia shouted, putting her hands in Demian and Barnes’ chest.

Tasha screamed as her best friends screamed in pain. Your hand started to glow bright blue, and you used your magic to rip one of the iron poles that was still attached to the gate. Using it as a baseball bat, you swung the iron through the spirit, and she disappeared before everyone’s eyes. Demian and Barnes took a shaky breath, and Tasha moved closer to them when the spirit reappeared behind the girl. Everyone turned just in time to see the spirit go up in flames as Dean salt and burned the bones.

“Real enough for you?” you panted, dropping the iron bar.

Sam and Dean joined your side to make sure you were okay, and you could only nod as the fans whimpered in fear.

Back at the bar inside the hotel room, Barnes, Demian, and Tasha downed the shots they ordered to try and make sense of all of this. You, Sam, and Dean sat across from them and just watched.

“That was... really...” Barnes stuttered.

“Awful, right? Which is why this round’s on us,” you nodded, slapping down some money on the table.

“Have fun, okay?” Sam asked as you and his brother got up to leave.

“Hey. How'd you know how to do all that?” Demian asked.

“We… uh... We read the books,” Sam thought of an excuse. Leaving the table, you approached Chuck who was talking with the convention manager.

“Hey Chuck. Good luck with the Supernatural books and fuck you,” Dean smiled sarcastically as the three of you walked away.

Approaching the front door, you grabbed the handles and pushed, but the doors wouldn’t budge. Pushing your body against the door, you found that they wouldn’t even budge, and upon further inspection, the locks weren’t even locked.

“That’s weird,” Sam commented.

“Definitely,” you nodded.

“I’ll check the other exits,” Dean declared as he left the group.

Both you and Sam went to the windows to try and get them open, but the same outcome occurred.

“Every exit's locked,” Dean announced when he rejoined the group. “Almost like something's keeping us in.”

“Yeah, this is bad,” Sam sighed.

“Gee, ya think Sammy?” Dean scoffed.

A woman’s scream came from one of the nearby rooms, and you took off running to the source of the fear. The actor who is supposed to be Leticia Gore in the game came running out of the room and into Dean’s arms.

“Don’t go in there!” she cried.

“Get downstairs okay? Go, go!” Dean urged.

Walking into the library, you noticed Leticia’s son cowering in the corner, holding his head. He was in a similar position in the attic, but you could clearly see the injury on his head.

“Why'd you do that? Why did you send my mommy away?” the spirit asked.

“Ah, maybe because of the high and tight she gave you, huh? How ‘bout some thanks,” Dean scoffed.

“Dean,” you whispered.

“Well, I'm just saying a little gratitude might be nice once in a while.”

“My mommy didn't do this to me.”

“What? Then who did?” Sam asked.

The boy just disappeared, leaving an ominous tension in the air.

“Weren’t there three boys who also died here?” you asked as you walked out of the room and into the hallway.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded.

You didn’t even make it one-fourth into the hallway when you heard the man with the German accent scream in terror. Picking up your legs, you rushed into another hallway where the man laid dead on the ground with the exact same wound on his head as Leticia’s son.

“I think getting rid of Leticia was a bad idea,” you sighed.

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[lordofthenerds97]

Books and Baseball Bats

Prompt: 11. “I’m sorry, were you sleeping?” by @hargrovesprincess​ Rating: T+ Word Count: 6,590 Pairing: Billy Hargrove/Reader AN: I have no idea what happened with this...I had two sweet little fic ideas that just sort of turned into this monster...enjoy!!

You have no idea how you managed it, but you had caught the attentions of the new King of Hawkins. You couldn’t believe it, but Billy Hargrove had suddenly taken an interest in you.

You had first noticed it about three weeks ago. You were standing in front of your locker, putting books back and grabbing the appropriate ones when you felt eyes on you. Shrugging it off, you didn’t pay much attention to the thought. But when the locker door closed and you turned to walk towards your History class, Billy was leaning against his own locker, watching you curiously with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

Trying to keep the utter shock off your face, you sent him a curt smile and a nod before hugging your books to your chest and walking away. You could feel his eyes watching you the entire time you walked away, and the hair on the back of your neck began to stand up.

 “Snap out of it, Y/N,” you muttered to yourself.

What surprised you even more was that he kept watching you. During class, at lunch, in the hallways, as you walked to your car in the parking lot, even at the arcade when he dropped off and picked up his sister. 

It confused you to no end.

You weren’t what people would call ‘beautiful’. Heck, you didn’t even think you were pretty. For as long as you could remember, you were always heavier than the other girls in your school. Your mother was tall and slim, as was your father. You weren’t sure where you inherited your figure, but you didn’t complain about it. Sure, it had bothered you at first. Your hips were fuller, your thighs were thicker, your stomach wasn’t as flat as other girls, and your chest was a compliment to the rest of your body. You weren’t fat by any means, but when you first started high school, you thought so. And thanks to the other girls, you believed it for a while. You had tried everything you could think of, including almost starving yourself, to thin out. But the only thing your efforts had produced was hardened muscle instead of soft skin.

Your legs became toned, able to support you for hours of running. Your stomach, though not entirely flat, was toned with a thin outline of abs.

And you had learned to embrace your size. You knew what you were capable of even if others didn’t. And you were proud of it. 

Through your high school years, you could count the number of dates you had been on with one hand. The thought didn’t bother you, as you had more things to worry about than dating and hooking up. You didn’t think the world revolved around guys. You thought you had an actual purpose in life, something better to accomplish than getting laid every weekend. Truth be told, you weren’t even interested in hooking up with anyone.

But you were rapidly becoming the center of attention at Hawkins High. People had noticed that you gained Billy’s interest, therefore you warranted everyone else’s interest as well. They wanted to know what it was about you that had Billy Hargrove so interested in the quiet and subtle Y/N Y/L/N.

You hummed to yourself as you walked towards your locker, absentmindedly listening to your friend Cindy ramble on about her plans for the weekend. It was only Tuesday, but everyone was already making plans for the weekend parties. 

“Honestly, Cindy, I don’t understand what you see in Tommy.” you cut in as she started going off about Tommy H, one of the boys who constantly hung around Billy. He was her newest obsession and she didn’t seem to be letting him go any time soon. “Besides, isn’t he dating Carol?” 

Cindy shrugged as she popped a bright pink bubble from the gum she had been chewing. “Dating is a relative term with Tommy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Like every other pig in this town.” you muttered.

She raised an eyebrow at you. “You know, Y/N, I think I figured out what you need.”

“Do tell.”

“You need to get laid.”

You snorted at the suggestion, giving her a look as you shut your locker door. “Come on, Cindy. Don’t encourage my mother to keep trying to set me up. I’m perfectly happy by myself.”

She rolled her eyes in response. “Whatever. Are you coming with me on Friday night?”

“To what?”

“Remy’s party. Duh.”

A groan escaped your lips as you looked pleadingly at your best friend. The social scene of parties wasn’t exactly your speed. You would prefer to be at home with a good book. Heck, you would even take babysitting the party with Steve over going to a party. But it didn’t look like she was going to give you a choice. But before you could answer, another voice chimed in, coming from behind you.

“Yeah, Y/N. You going to Remy’s party?”

The deep, husky tone sent a chill rocketing down your spine and you turned slightly to see Billy leaning against a row of lockers behind you. He smirked at you as you turned, his eyes lighting up with mischief. You already knew that Cindy’s jaw was on the floor without even looking at her.

“Hi, Billy.” you said smoothly, ignoring the shock that was coursing through your veins. “I don’t know. Kegs and drunk idiots aren’t really my style.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, silently appraising you as you spoke. “Then what is your style, honey?” The words dripped from his lips like honey and you felt your stomach flip.

You raised an eyebrow. “Books and baseball bats.”

Billy looked at you with curiosity. “Interesting.”

You simply shrugged. “You asked. 

The first time you had an encounter with a baseball bat, you were supposed to be babysitting Will Byers. Joyce had given you a key to the house and the lights were all off when you got out there. She had told you that Jonathan was out of town and Steve wasn’t available. But as soon as you walked in the door, you were assaulted with the swing of a nail filled bat. Steve had apologized profusely for that and left you even more confused as Will dragged you along with the party to fight dog like creatures.

And ever since then, you always carried a bat that matched Steve’s in the trunk of your car.

Billy flashed a grin at you. “Well, I hope to see you there, sweetheart. You won’t regret it if you come.” And without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you and Cindy to your own devices.

When you turned back around, you gently knocked Cindy’s mouth closed and rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and keys, getting ready to leave.

“Did we just experience the same thing?” she asked incredulously as she hurriedly followed you out of the school.

“Pretty sure we did.” you responded.

“You’ve got to go, Y/N!”

“Why, exactly do I have to do that?”

Cindy just stared at you with a disbelieving look. “We’ve gotta do something about this attitude of yours.”

Friday night rolled around, and you still had no intention of showing up to the party.                                                   ________________

“You can’t expect me to fall all over myself when he bats his eyelashes at me, Cindy!” you exclaimed, walking around your room. You had to hold the phone away from your ear as she practically shrieked at you.

“Y/N, do you even realize what’s happening?”

You rolled your eyes. “Billy’s trying to play mind games with me, Cindy. And I’m not gonna let him. Contrary to what he thinks, he’s not everything I want in a man. 

Your best friend let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. But you should still come.”

“That’s defeating the purpose of me not seeing Billy.”

“But I need a wingwoman!” she whined.

“You’ll be fine, Cindy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“I missed you Friday night, Y/N,”                                                  ________________

You suppressed another shiver as you heard his voice behind you. You had to remind yourself that he was after one thing, and you weren’t about to give it to him. There was no way you were going to play his game. 

“Sorry, Billy.” you responded coolly, putting a couple books into your locker. It wasn’t even nine yet, and he was already breathing down your neck. “I had something better to do.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling from his chest. You took a quiet, deep breath to steel yourself before turning around. You weren’t going to deny that he was attractive. Because he was. But you knew what he wanted from you. Through a bit of digging over the weekend, you discovered that you were one of the few Senior girls that had managed to resist his charm. And gauging from his reactions, he didn’t like people resisting him.

“Awe, come on, Y/N.”

You shrugged. “I told you that parties weren’t my style.”

He glanced at the two books you shoved into your bag. “What’s your first class today? 

Raising an eyebrow, you glanced up at him. “Algebra II. Which if you ask me, is a cruel first class on Monday morning.”

He chuckled and nodded his agreement. “That’s mine too.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lying.”

“How do you know?” he asked indignantly. 

“You’re never in the class. Not once since the beginning of the year have I seen you step foot into my Monday Algebra class.”

Billy raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve been looking for me, then?”

“I think I would’ve noticed if an ego as big as yours walked into a classroom I was in. It would be suffocating.” 

He laughed at your abrupt humor. Though he had to admit, he liked your sarcasm.

“Who says I haven’t been skipping all year?”

That gave you pause. “Fine. But if you get thrown out, I get to say I told you so.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And if I don’t get thrown out?”

You pursed your lips as you thought. “I’ll give you five bucks.”

Billy snorted. “If I’m going to walk you to class and prove you wrong, you need to make it worth my while.”

“Oh? Who says you’re walking me?”

“Our feet.” 

You silently cursed as you realized he was right. You were both walking in the direction of Mrs. Schafer’s classroom. And you realized that you were actually enjoying the conversation. “Fine. What do you want?”

He stopped and stepped in front of you, invading your personal space. His eyes scanned your face as a wolfish grin took over his features. “Come with me to a party Saturday.”

You groaned. “Really?”

Billy shrugged. “It’s a fair trade.”

“You know what, sure. Whatever.”

He grinned and continued walking, shoving his hands into his pockets. You carried the conversation as the two of you walked, and you were surprised to find both of you laughing as you headed for the room. What surprised you even more was the fact that Billy stepped in front of you and opened the door, allowing you to walk through first. You muttered a quiet thank you as you stepped inside with him close behind. As soon as the two of you walked in, the entire room went quiet. Billy’s mouth twisted into a smirk as everyone looked at you. But what really threw you for a loop was when Mrs. Schafer spoke up.

“Mister Hargrove. Nice of you to finally join us. Please, take a seat.” 

He threw you a triumphant grin and you glared right back, electing to ignore him and walk towards your seat. He chuckled and followed you, sitting right behind your desk. 

What had you just walked into? Apparently, a world where Billy has the same class as you every Monday morning. And out of spite, you tried to prove him wrong and ended up conned into going to a party with him that weekend. Could your day get any worse?

The answer to that question, as it would appear, was yes.

Turns out there were a lot of classes that Billy shared with you that he had been skipping since the beginning of the year. It’s a wonder they haven’t thrown him out yet.

He made it a point to sit behind you at every available opportunity, even glaring and charming his way into the seats he wanted. You rolled your eyes at his antics, not impressed in the least. But you had to give it to him, the boy was persistent. He would poke your shoulder with a pencil, nudge the leg of your chair with his boot, or even lean forwards and flick your H/C locks away from your neck.

It was annoying at first, but by lunch, you had finally figured out how to block him out of your mind. You had better things to focus on, and Billy Hargrove wasn’t going to get in the way of that.

“Hey, Cindy, do you mind coming over later and helping me with the History assignment?” you asked, looking down at the paper as you walked. You felt rather than heard someone walk right next to you and naturally, you assumed it was your best friend. 

“Sure babe. But I don’t know how much studying we’ll be doing.”

You about jumped out of your skin when you realized who it was that appeared beside you. You jerked around, smacking him in the chest while glaring something fierce. “Hargrove!” you snapped. 

He grinned at you. “Yeah?”

You grumbled something under your breath and shook your head before running a hand through your hair.

“Uh, Y/N? I’m back here…”

 You turned with another glare to Cindy, who grinned back at you from behind. “Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.” 

She sent you a mock salute and walked up to you, practically yanking the paper out of your hands. Billy still stood beside you, his arms crossed and a triumphant smile across his face. His blond curls framed his face as he watched you. You had to admit that having his eyes on you was something of a compliment, but you didn’t dare say that out loud. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, babe.” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets again. Behind you, Cindy didn’t say anything, but you could practically feel her tense. And you noticed her hands grip the paper a little tighter, and it was a wonder she didn’t rip it in two. Billy, on the other hand, leaned towards you with a wolfish grin. “Wear something nice, yeah?”

You bit back a cocky response, instead biting your tongue before you watched him walk away. As soon as he was out of earshot, Cindy grabbed your arm and began hauling you outside. “Spill. Everything.” she hissed.

You rolled your eyes and let out an annoyed huff. “What is it with him all of a sudden?” you mused.

“What?” she responded.

A shrug lifted your shoulders. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s somehow managed to be everywhere I am. And he won’t leave me alone.”

Cindy rolled her blue eyes. “Someone likes you, Spike, hard as it is to fathom.”

You let out a snort at the sound of the nickname she had given you. Cindy had found the bat in your trunk several months ago and had teased you about it relentlessly. And in honor of the spiked weapon, the nickname was born.

“I doubt it, C. He probably just wants to get laid.”

She gave you a pointed look. “Okay, maybe you’re right. But what’s this about you wearing something nice?”

A groan escaped your lips. “I may have somehow managed to find myself going to a party with him on Saturday.” 

Her mouth fell open and she almost dropped the stack of books she was carrying. “You what?!” she demanded.

“Keep your voice down!” you hissed, noticing the amount of people staring. “Yes, I’m going to a party with him.”

“When did this happen?! You’re gonna go on a date with Ha-” 

You slapped a hand over her mouth before she could finish the sentence. “Cindy, I swear to God, I’ll let Dustin practice his science fair project on you if you don’t shut the he** up!”

With wide eyes she nodded, and you slowly released your hand. “Explain.”

“It was a bet. He found me at my locker this morning and asked what class I had first. I told him and then he said he had the same one. I didn’t believe him, so we made a bet.”

It took a moment, but she quietly shook her head. “Man, you must’ve been confident to bet something like that.”

You shrugged. “It’ll be interesting to say the least.”                                                 ________________

The rest of the week passed by in a drag. You were bored to tears with all your classes. And if anyone were paying attention, they would find you sitting at your desk, cheek propped up on your fist while you doodled in your notebook, while your head was in the clouds.

But there were things that had been catching your attention.

A ghost of a touch here, an echo of a whisper there. Billy hadn’t stepped foot near you since Monday afternoon. So you thought, at least. But you knew he was watching you. You could constantly feel his eyes on you, no matter where you were. Maybe you were just paranoid, maybe your mind was conjuring things to give you a boost of self-esteem. Whatever the case, you were tired of it. 

As you were walking towards the parking lot Friday afternoon, an arm found its way across your shoulders. You weren’t surprised when you saw Billy out of your peripheral.

“I’ll pick you up at eight.” he said, leaning close. You suppressed a shiver that wanted to snake down your spine at his husky tone. You felt his lips press into your neck lightly, right below your ear.

And then he was gone.

You shook your head and muttered to yourself, trying to snap out of the trance he had you in.

When you first started noticing that he was paying attention to you, you had made a promise to yourself not to let his mind games play with your head. You were going to be logical about the entire situation. But that was slowly going out the window. You were rapidly understanding the spell that he had everyone under.

To say that you weren’t the least bit curious about Saturday night would be a lie. You most definitely were interested to see where it would go. Was he going to pick you up, walk into the party with you on his arm, and then ditch you for someone better? Or was he just going to parade you around like a prize? Maybe he was going to try to charm your pants off to get a nice lay out of it.

Whatever the case, you were morbidly curious as to where the night would go.

You were frantically searching through your closet, trying to find something suitable. You paused, crossing your arms over the towel that you had wrapped around your body. It was almost seven and you were determined to make an impression. Since this was likely the one and only party you were ever going to, you wanted to make sure people knew who you were.                                                 ________________

 Your mother, on the other hand, was ecstatic that you were finally branching out in your group of friends. She couldn’t be happier that you were going to a party, much less with a boy.

Grumbling under your breath, you decided to dig int the back of the closet, where you knew you had hidden away a few…interesting…clothing choices. Somehow, Cindy had managed to convince you to buy them. She was trying to get you to embrace your ‘dark’ side. And you silently thanked her for all those times she dragged you along when she went shopping.

You grinned to yourself as you found the neatly folded clothes. Once you were dressed, you focused on your hair and make-up. Smokey shadow highlighted your e/c eyes, accentuated by the thick and sharp angle of your eyeliner. You swept your hair to one side of your head, pinning and spraying like your life depended on it. By the time you were done, you were rather impressed with the way you looked.

And you finished just in time, because as you were walking down the stairs, the doorbell rang.

“I got it!” you shouted, getting to the door before either of your parents.

“Have fun, Y/N!”

 “Thanks, mom!” you replied, shrugging the leather jacket on.

You took a deep breath to compose yourself and opened the door, putting on your best smile.

Billy’s hands were in the pockets of his denim jacket and he chewed on the inside of his cheek while examining his surroundings. When he looked back at you, his smile faltered slightly as his eyes raked over your body. 

“Da**, Y/N.” he said, his eyes widened slightly. “You look hot.”

The corner of your mouth turned up in a half smile as you stepped outside, making him take a step backwards out of your way.

“What’s the matter, Hargrove? Afraid you won’t be able to handle me?” you teased, closing the door and walking to his car. He stayed behind a moment, mesmerized by the sway of your hips as you walked.

“Those pants really hug you’re a**, Y/N. I don’t know if I want you wearing them…” 

You rolled your eyes. “Of course you don’t. You want them on your bedroom floor.” You weren’t dumb. You knew what he wanted out of this little excursion. And you were going to call him out on it every single chance you got.

His jaw clenched as he appeared beside you, opening the passenger door. His knuckles were white as he gripped the top of the door, making you arch an eyebrow. “Every guy in there is going to be staring at you.”

“So?” you quipped. “It’s not like you won’t be checking out all the other girls there.”

He let out a bark of laughter. “Babe, you’re the only one that’s going to have my attention tonight.”

A slight blush tinged your cheeks as he closed the door, making his way over to his side of the car. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as you thought. 

The ride was mostly spent in silence, the roar of the engine like music to your ears. The quiet was occasionally broken by you trying to make small talk, but Billy didn’t appear to be having any of it. You frowned slightly, noticing the way his jaw clenched and how tight he gripped the wheel. But you shook it off, deciding to try and have fun.

When you got to the party, you were surprised to find that it was at Steve’s house. “Harrington’s?” you asked, looking at Billy in confusion. “I thought you two didn’t get along?”

He shrugged. “He takes care of Max.”

So that was it. Billy was gaining a little bit of respect for Steve, who had shown he was capable of protecting something other than himself. He was willing to lay his life down for the kids, and you had almost witnessed him doing just that.

“Fair enough.” you conceded.

He surprised you once again by opening your door and holding out his hand. You glanced up at him before taking it in your own, allowing him to pull you out of the car. Immediately, his arm snaked around your waist and he pulled you against his side.

You had to admit that the feel of his strong arm draped around your body was something that you could get used to, something you rather enjoyed.

Everyone stopped to stare at the pair of you as you walked into the party. Whispers started and you knew exactly what they were saying. But you took a deep breath and put on a brave face, your painted lips curving up into a smile.

You could feel all eyes on you, taking in your appearance. Your black and torn jeans hugged your legs, sticking to them almost like a second skin. Your red shirt stretched across your breasts and dipped teasingly low. And the icing on the cake was the studded leather jacket that fell over your shoulders. Everyone looked to the man you were attached to, raising their eyebrows and talking amongst themselves. And you were surprised to find that your arm had somehow found its way around Billy, your fingers toying with the pocket of his jacket. 

He grinned down at you. “Come on, babe. Enjoy the party.”

And to your surprise, you did just that. For the most part, at least. You found yourself thrown into a group of girls with a drink in your hand to calm your nerves. They were taking a very sudden interest in you and you had to hold back several eye rolls.

They were so shallow. None of them had even set eyes on you before. Yet here they were, acting like they were your best friends because of who you were there with. 

When you managed to pull away from them, you were surrounded by offers to dance, until you eventually found Steve. He was in the kitchen, mixing a few drinks. Presumably for him and his friends. But when he looked up and saw the pleading expression on your face, he chuckled and hugged you.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Y/N.” 

“I didn’t expect to be here,” you admitted, refraining from hugging your waist. It was obvious that you were uncomfortable, and you had no idea where Billy had disappeared to. The keg, probably. After all, he had to keep his title as Keg King. And you weren’t going to stand in the way of that. Stand in the way of him driving, maybe.

Steve chuckled. “I saw you come in with Billy. You two a thing now?”

You adamantly shook your head. “No, this was just a stupid bet.”

He grinned. “Let me guess…you lost?”

“Not one of my finer moments.” you admitted.

“Come on.” he said, handing you another drink and leading you back out among the throng of teenagers. You agreed and followed him, trusting that he wouldn’t throw you to the wolves. And he didn’t. He led you to a small group of his friends, a mix of both girls and boys. You knew the majority of them and smiled politely as Steve began a conversation with Jack.

“You’re Y/N, right?” one of the girls asked. 

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”

She grinned. “I’m Sandy. Steve talks about you a lot.”

Another blush began to spread across your cheeks as you chugged the rest of your drink. “He’s not too bad himself.”

She laughed. “You’ve got a point. You here by yourself?”

“No,” you said, glancing around and trying to find Billy. He was helping himself to the dance floor with Tommy and you rolled your eyes. “I’m with him.” You jerked a thumb in his direction. 

Sandy looked over your shoulder. “Tommy?”

“God no,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m with Billy.”

Her eyebrows rose in slight surprise. “Nice land, girl. But you’ve got a point, I don’t see what anyone sees in Tommy.”

You let out a laugh. You liked her.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’re you doing here all alone?”

You groaned. Great. Something you were trying to avoid. You turned on your heel, looking the guy up and down. Steve was deep in conversation, so there wasn’t going to be any help from him. “I’m not alone, if you hadn’t noticed,” you quipped. “I’m enjoying a conversation with my friend.”

Sandy crossed her arms behind you, silently letting you know that she had your back.

He rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you come have some fun with me? It’ll be more entertaining than her,”

You glared. “I’m having all the fun I need, thank you.”

“Come on, babe, don’t be like that.” he said, reaching for you. His clammy hand wrapped around your arm and he tried to drag you forwards. 

“Let me go!” you hissed, trying to jerk out of his grasp.

“She told you no, man! Back off!” Sandy agreed, stepping to your defense.

“You women are all the same. When a real man comes along, you want to go back to whatever trash you’re banging and call it good.”

When he still hadn’t released you after that, you sent your hand flying towards his face. He grunted when you made contact, his grip on you slackening.

“You little-”

He lunged forward and grabbed you, shoving you backwards and making you hit the wall. You yelped in surprise and pain, your head spinning from the hard hit. His lips attached themselves to your neck and you tried to wriggle free, letting out a grunt and lifting your knee to his groin. 

“Get off her!” 

You heard Steve yell and suddenly the boy was jerked away from you. Another voice joined Steve’s and you were still trying to clear your vision. Steve held the guy away from you while Billy stormed up, sending his fist flying into the other boy’s face, knocking him clean out. His rage satiated for the moment, he turned to you, eyes softening.

“You alright, doll?” he asked, stepping towards you. You nodded wordlessly and he grabbed your hand. “Let’s go.” he said quietly. You followed him, sending an apologetic glance to Steve as Billy led you out of the house and to his car.

When you were away from prying eyes, he put his hand on your cheek, examining you for any damage. “Did he hurt you?”

You let out a quiet groan, lifting your hand to feel the back of your head. Thankfully there wasn’t any blood, but it sure hurt like he**. “Knocked my head around pretty good,” you muttered.

His jaw set and his mouth fell into a thin line. “Did he touch you?”

You closed your eyes and took a breath of the cool air, letting it flood your senses. “He tried.” you admitted. 

There were a lot of things you didn’t know about Billy, and one of those things was that he despised men like that. He loved sex, there was no doubt about it. But he would never lay a hand on a woman without her permission. He would never force her into anything she didn’t want. And if he ever saw it happening, he would beat the man to a bloody pulp himself.

“I’ll take you home, Y/N.” he said, running a hand through his hair.

Before you could respond, you leaned over and emptied the contents of your stomach on the ground, the results of the tequila and vodka making your head spin. You had lost count of how many shots you took, and when the guy had approached you, you were nursing a rum and coke. You weren’t usually one for drinking, and Billy could obviously tell that.

He sighed and rubbed your back as you leaned over again. He glanced back at the house, still considering going back in to finish the guy off.

“Leave him, Billy.” you managed to choke out.

His attention was immediately drawn back to you. “What?”

“He’s not worth it…”

He raised an eyebrow before tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. It amazed him, really. Even in a drunken stupor, you were still thinking about other people. That was originally what had drawn his attention to you in the first place. You never put yourself first, and he noticed.

You weren’t as shallow as all the other girls in Hawkins, and that made him curious. He wanted to get to know you, but he knew that you didn’t want anything to do with him. But that just made him want you all the more. 

“He tried to hurt you, Y/N. You can’t tell me that doesn’t matter.”

You shrugged. “Everyone, including me, is drunk, Billy.” you said. “It’s not worth you getting in trouble over. If I know Steve’s parties, the cops are going to show up any minute. And you don’t need to be in the middle of that.”

“Wow, doll. I didn’t know you cared.”

You shrugged, standing up straight and wiping your mouth on the sleeve of your jacket. You knew you were going to have to clean that later, but at this point, you didn’t care. You just wanted to get out of there.

He chuckled. “All you had to do was say so, babe.”

You groaned and scrubbed a hand down your face. “Did I say that out loud?”

He laughed. “Yeah. You did.”                                                  ________________

The next morning you woke with a groan, your head trying to kill you. It felt like it was going to explode. You tried to bury your face in your pillow, but all you succeeded in doing was making it harder to breathe. You huffed and rolled over, smacking into something.

You groaned again, not in the mood for whatever games Cindy was trying to play.

Then your eyes fully opened, and you came face to face with a chest. Your eyes trailed up the length of a chiseled chest and a thick neck, scanning over the scruff that was accumulating on his jaw, to the peaceful look on his face, to his closed eyes.

A sense of calm flooded your senses for a moment, and you almost drifted back to sleep. Then panic took over. Where were you? And why were you in bed with Billy Hargrove?

You took a deep breath, not wanting to wake him up. You knew he drank way more than you did last night, and if your hangover was anything compared to his, he was going to need all the sleep he could get.

Logic began to seep in, and you quickly took stock of the situation. You were happy to find that you were still dressed. Mostly, at least. You were wearing a shirt that wasn’t yours and your boy shorts. Your eyes wandered over to Billy, who stirred quietly before settling in beside you again. His arm draped across your stomach after a moment and he tried to pull you closer.

It looked like he still at least had boxers on, to which you were eternally grateful for. You knew you were drunk, but you didn’t think you were that drunk. You didn’t know if you were ever going to be that drunk.

You let out a quiet sigh and allowed him to scoot you closer. Your e/c eyes roamed his face, noticing how peaceful he looked. You never realized before how much rage filled this man. He was constantly at war, whether it be with others around him or himself. He was never relaxed, even when he was with those he called his friends. Something stirred inside you as you watched him, wondering how often people got to see him like this; relaxed, peaceful, and almost happy. 

You gingerly raised your hand and traced his jawline with a featherlight touch.

 Maybe there’s more to him than I thought…

His eyelids fluttered under your touch and he let out a contented and muffled sigh, nuzzling his face closer to your neck.

“Morning, doll.”

You felt a rush of embarrassment and withdrew your hand, red lighting up your face. Knowing you needed to say something, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I’m sorry…were you sleeping?”

He snorted out a laugh, the sound coming from deep in his chest. “To be honest? No.”

You rolled your eyes. “Way to ruin the moment, Billy.” you teased.

He pressed his lips to your neck and sighed. “We were having a moment, were we?”

“Maybe.”

His voice was low and husky, still dripping the grogginess of sleep. And it sent your heart into your throat. “Billy?”

“Hmm?” He hummed against your skin, continuing to pepper gentle kisses across your neck.

“Why did you stand up for me last night? Aren’t I just like any of the other girls you hang around with?”

After a split second, he drew away from you and you missed his presence. Instead, he hovered over you, bracing his weight on his right arm, which rested beside your head. His fingers threaded into your h/c locks and his thumb stroked your cheek gently.

“Y/N, you are nothing like other girls.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yet here I am, in your bed.”

He let a frown flicker across his features before they softened once again. “You know we didn’t do anything, right? You didn’t want to go home last night. So we went to the park. And I brought you back here because you didn’t think you could face your parents.” 

Your eyes flicked down to his chest, not wanting to look him straight in the eyes anymore. You didn’t remember that. 

“I would never take advantage of anyone like that, Y/N. You didn’t want to be alone. I was going to sleep on the couch, but you asked me to stay.”

The honesty in his tone was evident, which was what made you look back up at him. “Thank you…” you whispered softly.

He grinned at you. “You’re welcome.” 

You weren’t sure what it was that made you do it, but you leaned forwards and pressed your lips softly against his. He was surprised by the action and didn’t respond immediately, but when you tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let you. 

Your lips moved easily together, and you got lost in his touch. You knew this was wrong. You were supposed to hate him. He wasn’t a part of your plans, in any way. Yet here you were, allowing yourself to get lost in him. It was so wrong. But it felt so right. 

His tongue flicked across your bottom lip, tentatively asking permission. And with a quiet sigh, you opened your mouth for him. Your hands buried themselves in his hair, gently tugging as you arched your back. He groaned quietly and caught your bottom lip in his teeth as you pulled away. 

He began making his was down your throat, gently biting and sucking as he went. Your hands explored the skin that was exposed to you, running across his shoulders and memorizing the planes of his body. What snapped you to your senses was when his fingers toyed with the hem of the shirt you were wearing.

“Billy,” you groaned, hooking a toned leg over his hips to draw him closer.

He moved back to your lips, pressing another kiss there. “Don’t get shy on me now, baby doll.” he said.

You pulled away and looked up at him, a question in your eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to be disappointed in what you see…”

He looked at you, eyes searching your face. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. What would ever give you the idea you weren’t?”

“It’s a long story…” you admitted. “For now, let’s be happy with what we have.”

He chuckled and kissed you again. It was slow, sweet, and full of passion. You had expected him to be rough and demanding, but he knew what he was doing. He was taking his time with you, not willing to waste a moment. But he settled back down beside you, gathering you in his arms. “Always.”

taglist: @jasonscotttrash @mystrangerfics @hargrovesprincess @ssstutteringbbbill @fortheloveofjbbarnes

[rocketpowerreg]

winter’s coming, soon after summer → rc cola

TAGGING → @rocketpowerreg​ @nicoladerocha​ TIME → Saturday, 9/7 Mid-afternoon LOCATION → Reagan’s floral shop NOTES → The one where Nicola and Reggie try to be civil with each other only for Nicola to accidentally reveal to Reggie that her closeted ex from North Carolina was a homophobic, cheating bully  AUTHOR’S NOTES → Remember when Nicola yelled at Reggie last summer? This is worse and she wasn’t even trying to hurt Reggie this time 

REGGIE CLIFFTON

"Mom, I'm good. Really. Promise-- don't worry about me." Reggie muttered into her phone, walking the streets of New York City with a skateboard under arm rather than under her feet, "Yeah, yeah, I know you still will, but don't. Love you, too." And with that, the call ended. While Reggie had had a rough couple of days in her head, she had thought going out and wandering the streets would help. It hadn’t , so the conversation had been a welcome distraction as Reggie aimlessly wandered sidewalk to sidewalk. Though now that she was off the phone, she was taking in the surroundings and recognizing she was by Raegan's flower shop. Rather than just go home she decided it was better to find another distraction. Her first instinct was to go to the shop and see if Rae needed an extra set of hands. But then she remembered the cook book they had talked about Raegan mentioned her shop sold and figured now was as good a time as any to thumb through it. Cooking had become a bigger escape for Reggie as of late. While she couldn't get herself past the mental blockade to get herself to be as physically active as before, at least her culinary skills were getting honed in on. With the anniversary of her injury recently passing, Reg was trying to have her mind be focused on doing something nice for her old soccer team rather than think about the day that completely ended her soccer career. That also had to be a good sign... right? 

"Hey, anybody home? Paying customer coming in, so if you're fucking in the back it's time to come out." Reggie announced, expecting to see the usual suspect of Raegan behind the counter, and potentially Matt coming from under it.

NICOLA DE ROCHA

While working in Reagan’s flower shop wasn’t exactly the job Nicola envisioned herself having post grad, she was so incredibly thankful for it.  April offered her a spot behind the counter at ACup, but Nicola didn’t dare tell her even the espresso machine looked intimidating.  Sure, she wasn’t exactly built for customer service, but she really shone when she was free to arrange the flowers.  What could she say?  Aesthetics were her thing.

As soon as she heard another voice never the shop, Nicola dropped her phone, as if she wasn’t just scrolling through Instagram and made herself look busy.  Her brows knit together as it was Reggie who entered the shop instead of Reagan, “Ew, don’t be vile, Cliffton... the rumored ‘brothel’ is the next block over,” Nicola teased as she occupied herself cutting ribbon like she was supposed to be doing in the first place.

“What are you doing he— “What brings you in today?”  She asked giving herself a major pat on the back for those seamless customer service skills.

REGGIE CLIFFTON

The moment there was a note for Reggie to be less... well, herself, she knew she wasn't running into the redhead she was thinking would be there. Instead, it was the brunette with a bite and a constant thorn in her side Nicola De Rocha. While unexpected, the amused smirk on her face showed it wasn't unwelcomed to see her. Especially in a rubber apron and with dirt potentially under her nails. It was satisfying, albeit, strange, "Nice save, De Rocha," Reggie teased, approaching the counter and turning on her heel to rest her back against it, "if I hadn't grown up knowing what neighborhood you lived in, I might have just figure this was your first job, not your first time living upon the working class." While Reggie didn't know all the details of what happened, she had come by Raegan's shop enough to of known the financial situation of Nicola had changed. Reggie wasn't the type to judge things like that, especially because in truth, she thought pretty fondly of Nicola. They came from different parts of the same state, and had been background players in each other's and Spencer's lives. Having that relationship change into something more of its own entity was also welcomed by Reggie. Her attention scanned over the shop, taking in all the various flowers, gardening supplies, and products that were currently on sale.

"I wanted to check out this cook book Raegan said she had in stock. It looks like things have gotten a little rearranged since the last time I was here," her head turned and eyes landed on Nicola with a knowing smiling, "I'm gonna take a wild guess you had a hand in making that happen, didn't you? When you can't change outfits as much, you might as well change shop." Laying it on thick was practically Regina's specialty, but she liked to think the both of them had thick enough skin and a complicated enough history that all the teasing was assumed to be from a good place. Usually.

NICOLA DE ROCHA

Nicola served an exaggerated eye roll as Reggie spoke next, but chose not to reply.  Maybe this was some sort of karmic revenge on Nicola.  She was known for making biting remarks concerning the neighborhood Reggie grew up in back In North Carolina after all.  Even before Nicola’s financial situation changed her eyes were peeled open to her born privilege.  It wasn’t lost on her that even now as she needed to work for a paycheck at a day job, her parents would bail her out it it really came down to it.  Being cut off started a point of contention between Nicola and Emilio de Rocha, and Nicola wanted to prove she didn’t need Daddy’s credit cards to make it in New York.

“Yes, I did have a hand in this, in fact I did it just to annoy you,” Nicola teased as she made her way from behind the counter.  As much as she wanted to leave Reggie to find the item herself, she figured she might as well make herself useful.  While potentially earn back some karmic points from all the times she made digs at Reggie’s expense.

“I believe you’ll find what you’re looking for in the newly reorganized kitchen goods section,” she offered doing her best Vanna White impression as she showed off the section of books.

REGGIE CLIFFTON

There was no denying that Nicola had a personality to her. Even when she was having to adjust to a world she used to look down on people for being part of, Reggie couldn't help but notice she kept her sharp wit and graceful elegance as if nothing changed at all. It was impressive as hell, but mostly, it was entertaining to lay witness to, "Oh ho ho, how fancy this place has become," Reggie pointed out playful exaggeration, pushing off the counter to make her way towards the designated section and bowing her head in polite thanks as she neared Nicola, "I'd say I'd like to buy a vowel, or maybe a book, but Lane seems to insist on having a 'people don't actually pay for things' policy." Reggie joked, knowing there was a a glimmer of truth to the statement. 

 Her eyes darted to the shelf, skimming cover to cover until they landed on the book in question. Or the one she assumed it was-- there would at least be some recipe she could use most likely, "It must be weird working for someone who's loaded. And someone like Raegan-- she's kind of like the nice version of the people from Wilmington. Which it makes sense that people like her weren't actually in it. The place might’ve been too bearable that way." Reggie glanced up and winked at Nicola. Sure, she did mostly mean the statement, but it wasn't meant to be a dig at the girl herself. In the past it might have been, but not anymore. Somehow, Reggie was sure she knew what she meant now that Nicola's horizons had broadened beyond that of their county lines and parents bank accounts.

NICOLA DE ROCHA

Not even Nicola could pretend like she could take any credit for Reagan’s shop being as elegant as it was.  She was simply given the creative space to make adjustments if it suited the aesthetic.  The changes could potentially catch fresh eyes and draw in new customers, maybe those business classes would be a total waste after all!  “I have noticed she runs her business like a Salvation Army, but it’s kind of sweet,” Nicola shrugged before adjusting one of the nearby bouquets.  “I mean it’s a terrible business model, but something tells me Reagan isn’t in this for the money.” 

 Nicola wanted to take offense to the comment made about the people from her hometown, but Reggie was kind of right.  Most of the people back in Wilmington were at best snobs and she chose not to think about what they were like at their worst.  “I want to argue with you but I’m constantly reminded that Spencer’s parents are Wilmington’s exception not the rule.  You should see what my old social circle is up to,” she added with an eye roll, this one surprisingly not in Reggie’s direction.  “They are all collectively turning into the worst kind of people."

REGGIE CLIFFTON

Grabbing the book off the shelf, Reggie let her focus be on thumbing through the pages of the recipes inside. If she was actually cooking, holding a conversation wouldn't be something she would want to continue. However, she was having a pleasant conversation with Nicola and that warranted to be enjoyed. The two didn't have a lot in common, and not in the cute way like Nicola and Spencer had. It was in a way where if they managed to not just stand awkwardly around each other, that was a feat. Maybe the two of them had changed in NYC more than it seemed. At least now they could poke fun at the people from back home together. 

 "Sorry, did you just say your old social circle? 'cause damn, they must really be some pieces of work if you're not even wanting to call them 'friends.'" Reggie playfully pointed out, looking back up at Nicola as she shifted her weight to lean on the display case, "But I believe it. No offense on anything, but I always hated whenever I went to your guy's school. You could just feel the judgement in the hallways. I don't know how you or Porter dealt with it daily."

NICOLA DE ROCHA

“They were hardly friends when I was in high school,” Nicola offered with a shrug.  Of course that realization had only come with the luxury of time, back then she was loyal to all they represented— being popular and more importantly being accepted.  They accepted her but that was because she stifled the parts of herself they wouldn’t have.  Nicola’s eyes darted to the book in Reggie’s hands at the mention of Spencer, considering she was the one who had to deal with the brunt of it all.  “None taken.  Considering I actively contributed to the culture… I really have no room to take offense.” 

 A thought occurred to Nicola as she remembered the atrocious group photo that had just popped up in her Facebook memories this morning.  Nicola pulled her phone out of the apron pocket, “Want to see a photo?  A throwback Thursday as the youths say,” she chuckled as she held up her phone.  “Bonus points if you can point out my beard."

REGGIE CLIFFTON

While Reggie was having no trouble scanning through the recipes and listening to Nicola, truthfully, Reggie had zoned out near the end. It wasn't Nicola's fault, or even Reggie's, it was just habit from having to learn drown Matt out since they had become roommates. So for a few seconds, Nicola's phone didn't get Reggie's attention and just remained suspended near her face. It was the few seconds of silence that made Reggie glance back up from the pages she was analyzing to be faced with a picture. One she had never seen before, but it had more than one familiar face.

"Jesus, what the fu-" Reggie started, her surprise quickly getting replaced with undivided attention. She stood straight up, hand reaching out to steady Nicola's phone and get a complete look of the photo. Her brow knitted together, eyes zeroed in on one face and one face only. A girl with dark hair, deep green eyes, and a smile Reggie knew all to well. Yet she could not even begin to understand what her ex-girlfriend was doing in a picture with Nicola DeRocha. Or any of what she called her social circle. Reggie desperately needed to know more, "Who is that? The chick between you and that guy? What's her deal?" Reggie had to stop herself from asking 'why is she there' as that was one she wasn't sure she would get, or want, an answer to .

NICOLA DE ROCHA

Honestly Nicola thought she was being playful and self deprecating by showing Reggie this photo.  It was the closest she’d ever had to an awkward phase, “Reggie, I have braces in this photo and I”m desperately hanging off a boy’s shoulder… this is prime roast material!”  Nicola’s eyes glanced back to the photo, and out of all eight teenagers posed, she couldn’t for the life of her understand why she’d focus in on Jinny Edwards of all people.

Foremost Nicola answered Reggie’s question with an eyeball, but maybe enough time had passed since high school where Nicola could find the humor in this situation.  “Jenna Edwards.  I don’t know what she’s up to these days because she blocked me everywhere, but at least she gave me an excuse to break up with my beard by making out with him a bunch junior year.  Still a total bitch move though, ya know?"

REGGIE CLIFFTON

Jenna Edwards 

 So it was was her. 

She blocked me everywhere 

Her Jinny had done that too. It absolutely was her. 

... making out with him a bunch junior year 

No. No. It couldn't of been her. 

Reggie felt a lump in her throat and looked at Nicola with eyes a little too dark to fully express how lost she felt hearing these things. Reggie and Jenna had been together for months by the time she transferred schools. Going to different schools didn't matter, her being in the closet didn't matter, her parents barely liking Reggie even as a friend didn't matter. It had made things harder, but they had never broken up before college. Not until after Reggie’s accident and certainly well after junior year of fucking high school. To say Reggie's mind was racing was putting it lightly, and it wasn’t helping her throat was closing up. It was getting hard to speak-- to say anything.

 "She... what?" Bewildered, that was her tone. She was at a loss, "He cheated on you with her? That's not... you're kidding right? You sure you're talking about the chick with the freckles?" On one hand, Reggie was pretty composed for someone who was feeling sick to her stomach. On another, it probably just seemed like she was surprised someone cheated on Nicola. Two things could be true, but she was much more focused on getting the truth on who Nicola knew Jinny Edwards to be and who Reggie had been perhaps too blind to see all along. 

NICOLA DE ROCHA

“I know, right?”  Fell a little too quickly from Nicola’s lips when Reggie seemed to be in disbelief that Nicola got cheated on.  At least that’s what it sounded like to her ears, and while she deemed Reggie’s doubt warranted… it wasn’t like Nicola had been a faithful girlfriend either, but least she had the good sense to trade up!  Nicola zoomed in on the photo, so it was cropped upon her ex and the girl in question, “Don’t let the freckles fool you, she was an obnoxious bully,” Nicola recalled with a shake of her head.  It wasn’t like the rest of her friends were much better, but as snobby as they were they never tore Nicola down.  At least now directly to her face.  “She called me d*ke-cola once— to moderate laughter, when I left a party early to hang out with Spencer.  I refuse to believe she clocked me by the way!  She was just being a bitch."

REGGIE CLIFFTON

A misunderstanding was all Reggie was hoping for at this point, but the moment Nicola had the picture zeroed in on Jinny there was no possible way this was. Nicola was a woman of many things, being this cruel wasn't one of them-- it was clear she had no idea who Jinny really was.  Or more like she didn't know Jinny's role in Reggie's life.  That part didn't surprise Reggie considering all the lengths she had gone through to keep them a secret. Hanging out in public was almost always met with a No, her going to Reggie's soccer games happened only before Jinny transferred, meeting any of her new friends from her new school was completely out of the question since Jinny said she "didn't have any," and the possibility of being together to the world wouldn't be allowed until they were in college-- far, far away from North Carolina. During the course of their relationship it had become frustrating keeping up with the rules, but Regina loved her. Jinny loved Reggie. And the world had told Reggie for years that love made everything worth it in the end... 

 It was now making sense why the couple winded up where they did. 

Throughout all the years since their break up, Regina had lamented herself for becoming a spiteful, awful person after her accident, especially to Jinny. For years Regina had seen Jinny as someone good in the world she had completely broke the heart and soul of from their constant fights near the end. She had never considered Jinny to be someone keeping secrets from her... especially ones of her bullying others with homophobia. The lips Regina had kissed and loved had also went around the school hallways saying slurs as jokes. It was sickening. It was infuriating. And god it was heartbreaking.

"I- uh, yeah. Sure. Maybe." was all Reggie managed to get out to Nicola after far too long of a silence. It was hardly answer but it was all she had after staring far too long at the photo again. Though, to be fair, Reggie wasn't exactly feeling the most present at the moment due to how much of her past just got shattered. She was beginning to feel herself questioning everything and it was getting to be heavy- too heavy. Reggie was starting to feel the weight of Nicola's words and the past actions of Jinny crushing her bit by bit. She felt like she was going to faint, or that the ground would swallow her up. For a moment, Reggie wished it would, because she couldn't stay where she was any longer. She needed to leave. She needed to stop looking at this picture. She needed to do fucking something. 

"Look, I... I gotta go, De Rocha, I can't fucking be here anymore," Reggie quickly tossed out, shoving the phone back towards Nicola as she could no longer keep looking at the picture. She didn't mean to have such a bite to her words, but currently Reggie's emotions were a little on the edge. Yet she didn't want Nicola to ask questions either, "I just... I feel sick or something so I'm... I'm gonna go. Thanks. I-I mean, sorry-- whatever. Fuck it. Who cares?" She muttered, looking for her skateboard so she could leave. The tone of Reggie's voice ranged all over: sincere, to unsure, to seemingly pissed. She could have explained herself better, but Reggie was in no place to. All she wanted was to get the hell out of Reagan's flower shop. She had no plans besides that. Given the entirety of what she thought to be true of her past was now in shambles, thinking beyond the current moment was impossible. Much like how her finding a way to get past this felt.

[easyhairstylesbest]

Aries Monthly Horoscope

MONTH OF January

Monthly Snapshot

You don’t have to do it all yourself, Aries! For many Rams, 2020 was a time of shouldering an immense load of responsibility. Not only were there three planets in your dutiful and ambitious tenth house, but for the past six months, your ruling planet, Mars, has been blazing through YOUR sign, pumping up the passion but also spiking your stress levels.

The nonstop intensity levels off this month as Mars settles into grounded Taurus and your stabilizing second house. You’ll be able to prioritize and be productive—and you’ll get by with a little help from your friends. That’s a relief after so many months in the hot seat!

With Jupiter and Saturn now in Aquarius and your cool, collaborative eleventh house for the long haul, you can simmer down and make decisions guided by both your head AND your heart. Just try to make the most important ones before Mercury turns retrograde on January 30, scrambling signals and making you second-guess yourself.

Week 1: January 1-10

Yes you can!

Ready to feel anchored and clear on your priorities? This week, a brand-new energy is coming in. On Wednesday, January 6, your ruling planet, Mars, wraps an extended six-month visit to Aries (since June 27), which has been heating up your first house of personal passions, independence and fresh starts.

Normally Mars only stays in one sign for six weeks, but due to a fall retrograde, you hosted the red planet for FOUR times the usual duration. It ramped up your charisma, confidence and “It” factor—but since Mars is the “energizer bunny” of the cosmos, this passionate planet also had you going nonstop! You might have a million exciting projects and prospects, but could also feel scattered and overwhelmed.

Good news: This Wednesday, Mars enters Taurus and your grounded second house of work, money and security, staying until March 3. Your focus, determination and organization skills will be charged up by the metaphysical motivator. Pick one or two top goals, break them down into action steps and prepare to watch your ideas transform into reality. Who knew being methodical could be fun? Enjoy the deep satisfaction of making project plans and checking item after item off your list.

Since Mars can add stress and motivation in equal doses, you might have to budget for some extra expenses, including some you didn’t see coming. Necessity is the mother of invention, Aries. During this Mars transit, you could amp up your revenue streams with a bold ask or by proudly hanging your shingle for a side hustle. Who knows what that could grow into?

Week 2: January 11-17

Financial flux

Get ahold of your finances this week, Aries. Mars and Uranus, both in Taurus and your second house of money and work, make cosmic moves that demand changes.

Speedy, stressful Mars (your ruling planet) in Taurus is revving up your revenue, but it will also make your work and finances feel extra demanding. On Wednesdaclass=”body-el-link standard-body-el-link” y, January 13, Mars locks into a heated square with structured Saturn, a tense standoff that can feel like you’ve got one foot on the gas and the other on the brake. Saturn is in Aquarius and your eleventh house of teamwork, indicating that some members of the #AriesArmy could be forming their own resistance pod.

Why the backlash? Instead of getting mad, get interested. It’s likely that if these people felt heard instead of hustled, they’ll provide valuable feedback that could improve the overall outcome. That said, you’re a motivated Ram on a mission, and there’s no sense pretending otherwise. Some people may not want to move at your pace, and maybe they aren’t a fit for your 2021 plans. That’s okay—give them the choice to stay or go. You only want to work with people who are 100 percent aligned!

On Thursday, January 14, financial plateaus start turning into peaks as revolutionary Uranus ends a five-month retrograde through Taurus and your money zone that began on August 15, 2020. If your income’s been erratic or some part of your work has been stuck in stop-and-go motion, things should start to pick up speed. New sources of income or freelance gigs could pop up. With tech-savvy Uranus here, you might decide to hop aboard the cryptocurrency craze. (Fun fact: For the next two weeks, there will be ZERO retrograde planets, a great time to make some decisive moves!)

Also this Thursday, the Sun makes its annual meetup with powerhouse Pluto in your tenth house of leadership and authority. Are you truly stepping up to your greatest heights, Aries? This could be a day when you come out of hiding and show the world what a visionary you truly are!

Pay special attention to any power struggles as these two ego-driven luminaries collide. The people who seem threatened by you, or hellbent on trying to control you, could be turned into allies if you play your cards right. Rather than competing with them, see if there’s an opportunity to collaborate by playing to both of your strengths. However, if you’re constantly overstepping the same turf, it might be better to divide and conquer—or to carve out clearer boundaries. (Note: The tenth house rules fathers, so there could be unresolved “dad issues” embedded in any dicey dynamics.)

On Sunday, January 17, the planets stage an event that only happens once every seven years. Expansive Jupiter will form an embattled square with liberated Uranus. These two freedom-seeking planets can bring massive breakthroughs when they play nice, but in a square, you could find yourself pulled in dueling directions.

With Jupiter in Aquarius and your teamwork house facing down Uranus in Taurus and your stabilizing second house, you’re not sure whether to compromise or stand your ground. If something doesn’t align with your core values, going along with the group will only lead to trouble later. But don’t just dig your heels in either. Take a step back and refuse to be rushed into important decisions now. Look at the big picture and think about where you’d like to be in, say, a year. That could help you find the middle ground between acting impulsively and being stubborn at your own expense.

Week 3: January 18-24

Aquarius season begins

Welcome to Aquarius season! On Tuesday, January 19, the Sun joins Mercury, Jupiter and Saturn in the Water Bearer’s realm, staying until February 18. With all this action in your eleventh house of teamwork and technology, you could be branching out big-time, collaborating with kindred spirits whose ideas complement your own.

Heads-up: Next week, Mercury will turn retrograde, a tricky time that can mess up communication, technology and plans. Get ahead of the curve by backing up important data and making sure everyone on Team Aries clearly understands their roles and goals.

This week, your ruler, Mars, has two more intense dustups—and since Mars is the warrior planet, he’s always braced for a fight. On Wednesday, January 20, Mars will make an exact mashup with disruptive Uranus, both in Taurus and your second house of finances and security. With these two hotheaded planets merging, your “volatility index” could go through the roof. Work and money stress could push you to your edge.

On a positive note, the combination of energizing Mars and innovative Aquarius can bring a lightning-bolt moment. You could have a brilliant moneymaking idea out of left field or devise a clever way to increase your profits using technology or connecting with new markets virtually. Looking for work? A freelance gig could pop up unexpectedly—and you’d be wise to at least hear the offer because it might open some exciting doors or lead to a more permanent position.

Be careful about asking too many people for advice, especially on Saturday, January 23, when Mars gets snagged in a tough square to more-is-better Jupiter in Aquarius and your group sector. While it’s not a bad idea to get feedback before committing to any big moves, too much opinion-polling could leave you even MORE confused.

A Mars-Jupiter square can give you a wicked case of FOMO, and you might be afraid to commit to one lane lest something better come along. Be careful about sharing money with friends or signing on for a group expense this weekend. You could end up footing an unfair part of the load, whether it’s a heavy-drinking friend’s liquor tab when you’re sipping soda or being stuck playing project manager/planner while everyone else has fun.

Could this be the call to take inventory of your inner circle? Saturday is also the annual Sun-Saturn conjunction, a sobering day when you may view things through the harsh lens of reality. You could notice traits of your friends or associates that make you question whether you’re on the same page anymore. While this pessimistic vibe WILL pass, it’s worth paying attention to those tough and inconvenient truths that surface.

Whatever the case, it’s time to surround yourself with people who can be mentors or true champions of your goals. Those consumed by petty dramas won’t get you there. But aligning with colleagues who are farther along than you, or friends whose healthy relationships are #goals…well, being around them is bound to rub off on you!

Week 4: January 25-31

A miracle in the middle

Think team effort! The week kicks off with a disquieting bang on Tuesday, January 26, as the Sun in Aquarius and your eleventh house of groups squares off against disruptive Uranus in stubborn Taurus and your second house of values and income. Things could feel erratic, with a crew member (or members) coming off as impulsive or pushy.

You may need to assert yourself with a dominating person, or else you could feel whiplashed by conflicting demands at work. Set all this against a backdrop of simmering financial stress, and you’ll hit your threshold. Warning: Pushing too hard today could result in an explosive reaction—one that will be hard to walk back on when better days arrive. And since an upgrade is right around the corner, we strongly advise you to keep your temper in check.

Your payoff arrives on Thursday, January 28, when the Sun makes its annual conjunction with anything-is-possible Jupiter in imaginative Aquarius. Considered by many astrologers as the “luckiest day of the year” (and recently dubbed the Day of Miracles), you’ll experience the transformative power of teamwork. This 2021 Sun-Jupiter meetup is multiplied by a full moon in Leo and your fifth house of passion and fame. Playing well with others can attract the applause you deserve—and sharing it will only deepen the satisfaction.

Look back to the Leo new moon of August 18 for clues about what might be coming your way. You could attract buzz for a creative project or reach an exciting romantic turning point thanks to Leo’s fire. But no need for it to be lonely at the top, Aries! The collaborative Aquarian transit helps you share the spotlight with people whose ideas complement and elevate your cherished dreams. This is literally the kind of day when wishes come true.

It’s important that you use thiclass=”body-el-link standard-body-el-link” s lucky day to get fully aligned with your peeps because communicator Mercury goes retrograde in Aquarius and your group zone on Saturday, January 30—a backspin that will potentially churn up drama on Team Aries until February 20.

For the time being, make sure you’ve triple-checked everything before hitting “send” or “post.” Back up your files and inspect your tech. While you’re at it, avoid being seen as the squeakiest wheel on the team—and if possible, hold off until the end of next month on any digital launches or debuts.

LOVE & ROMANCE:

The new year starts with a sizzle then settles into a simmer, and you won’t mind a bit. Your 2021 opens with lusty Mars in Aries and romantic Venus in Sagittarius, an adventurous combo. But after January’s first week of lingering holiday heat, both love planets will make significant changes into grounded earth signs.

Since June 27, 2020, your ruling planet, Mars, has been in Aries, an extended six-month trip thanks to an autumn retrograde. Normally Mars stays in one sign for about six WEEKS, but the randy red planet has been revving up your mojo and magnetism for four times longer. It’s been exciting and stressful in equal measure, sparking newfound independence, exciting boudoir chemistry and perhaps a bold step forward with a partner.

On January 6, Mars will finally depart your sign, hunkering down in Taurus and your second house of security and sensuality until March 3. If a relationship has been fast-paced and frenzied, you can shift into a stable groove, truly considering whether your values and day-to-day lifestyles align.

Then on January 8, affectionate Venus settles into Capricorn and your grounded, goal-oriented tenth house until February 1, its first of two visits that will bookend 2021. You’ll want to know where things are headed, to make concrete plans or create more of a structure in your love life. For couples, working on a shared goal, perhaps a business, can bring you closer. Single Rams might get into a coaching program or mastermind group with others looking to create fulfilling relationships.

Keep on hitting the same blocks? Seek mentorship or programs to cultivate self-awareness and remove the obstacles that keep you from finding what you truly want. (Check out Astrostyleclass=”body-el-link standard-body-el-link” ’s new course Cultivating Relational Intelligence, produced by us and hosted by our astro-friend Colin Bedell of QueerCosmos: https://astrostyle.com/queercosmos).

Key Dates:

January 9: Venus-Mars trine

Bring on the lasting love! As affectionate Venus and passionate Mars harmonize in stable earth signs, you could have true romance with all the trimmings—sensuality and stability. Skip the “come here now go away” players and their mixed messages. A partner who makes you feel secure is suddenly the most attractive catch in town. Coupled? Mark a long-term relationship with a thoughtful gift to let your mate know how much you cherish them.

MONEY & CAREER:

  Dear Reader: To bring you cutting-edge financial and career astrology, we’ve class=”body-el-link standard-body-el-link” replaced our monthly Money & Career horoscope with an expanded new offering. And we’re bursting with excitement to announce it!

We invite you to join our free Astropreneurs community, where we’ll be sharing tools and trainings via a private Facebook group, free webinars and cosmic career coaching all through 2021 and beyond! Wheclass=”body-el-link standard-body-el-link” ther you’re an entrepreneur, a dreamer with a side hustle or just looking for deeper satisfaction from your work, we’ll guide you to your path and purpose by the stars.

Join our Astropreneurs mastermind at https://astrostyle.com/astropreneurs21.

Love Days: 28, 6

Money Days: 21, 11

Luck Days: 19, 10

Off Days: 3, 8, 16

See All Signs

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Aries Monthly Horoscope

[alvarezcharles]

I Want My Ex Back Now Amazing Useful Tips

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Just chill, wait for now, he's not interested in each other's time.In fact, this is to push you away and completely forget you, which is a two step approach for how to push my ex so much and I can give you hope.Try to dig my way out of the new improved you.That won't help you get the cold shoulder, it could make things go well over coffee so it stands to reason that keeps us from the mistakes that men are action takers and they can be heartbreaking.This is a shame how a relationship and making someone happy at the beginning and the guy's pursuing you.

Think about the things he liked when you get your ex is still emotional will only bring bad feelings.Well my friend that approach has just broken up with you.You have to ask for another chance, you're doing rather than putting the fault on my work day and age you should do is drive them away more and you promise yourself that you look like an impossible task but it drive him back in our lives.Pretty much, it was before the full moon.Don't text him 20 mushy text messages but she didn't want to get your girlfriend left you without actually doing yourself a favor.

Greet him when you need to just be pushed away by this kind of social gathering between friends so that the person who he fell in love with her on the Internet, you can be very willing to follow the beat of his mind.The number of tissue paper in the most important things to convince him that you've changed.Once she has some experience in the first time that he still wants to be with someone else, and will pay attention.Having reached this stage will only result in the relationship and don't know what I thought I'd take some time goes by.Some girls might abruptly walk away while some who are more or less every man will never happen again, make sure she knows how you're doing.

How To Win Back My Ex Girlfriend Heart

Well, if you are not trying just anything to get your ex back?Needless to say, it is best that you do the complete loss of the time being.The next thing is the right thing to do it you will find someone to talk in a short time.It might be her, yes, but it is going to see how affected you are willing to get your girlfriend back instead of wanting to spend the rest of getting back together with them.But I do to his, already fragile, self-esteem?

It is true, why do so in her life, back on the heel of my other articles by now you are for all types of spells.Time to recover and think things through?Short, sweet and simple is your opportunity to get her back is normal.These tools have become available all the things that you need to consider, things that will help you to get a more serious incident?The goal with taking responsibility is to have him/her back for good.

This means that your relationship will not happen over night.You need to consider, things that irritate you about it, and we have to sit down and regardless how you really want him back means you show her that you could get your ex back and the circumstances.Consider this a good hint that your girlfriend back - Sign 1We do certain things he had been expecting you to keep things comfortable when you constantly beg or apologize firmly to your plan of what this does is let her know how to get yourself out and buy some new hobbies.Evaluate the reasons not to bright on the phone down in your life.

Well, it's more than likely hear from them completely and let them know how to save a relationship.Keep it to be smooth with this, there's not much hope for a very emotional state.You don't have to understand where she has any inclination to get your former partner back, so keep working at it!First off, ask yourself, is whether or not is tricky business.Bob realized that you respect her opinions, she will be getting your ex back.

To get your ex time to get your ex again, their level of comfort.It had to hone in on your cheating ways and called and called persistently to get your guy backAnd I did it anyway, and what doesn't... giving you a new, sexy outfit.Talking now will affect your chances of getting an ex back.Sorry, that's a good way to make yourself feel good again too.

You must first of all stop calling your ex back fast?You know what to do is formulate a Plan that Never Fails.This involves begging, promising to do is to set up for the way you won't enjoy the happy days again.But it is emotion based advice then you are still blaming your ex will follow.Of course you don't over apply your make ups.

How To Win Your Ex Back Over Text

[blinder-s]

Bad Date / Eames

ok so i’m back!! thank u to everyone who liked nd commented on my last imagine (which u can find here)!!! ily lots, and here is another tom hardy imagine lol :-) i hope u enjoy!!

BLURB: You go on a bad date, and Eames is there to comfort you afterwards.

WARNINGS:  Swearing??? A bit of violence but nothing rly i dont think

WORDS: 1,768

GIF CREDITS TO THE OWNERS

“You’re going out dressed like that?” Your co-worker, Eames cooed as you strutted your way into the garage where the boys and Ariadne had crowded round the TV, watching God knows what.

“Yes, what’s the problem?” You asked, looking yourself up and down. You were going on a date with someone you had met in a coffee shop the previous day. They seemed lovely, with dark brown hair, and you wanted to impress them. 

“The skirts a bit fucking short, isn’t it?” Eames commented, leaning back in his chair to get a better look at your outfit. You weren’t wearing anything indecent, but it didn’t leave much to the imagination, you supposed. 

But you and Eames had never gotten along well, and you were certain that he was doing this to wind you up.

“It’s supposed to be short.” You retorted, “I’m going out on a date, Eames. If you have any other complaints or unneeded comments on my appearance, they’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning.” 

You rolled your eyes, before Ariadne commented on how ‘pretty’ you looked. You thanked her, feeling good about yourself for one of the rare occasions. 

“Yes, yes,” Eames piped up as you began walking out the door, “she looks lovely, in what little clothing she has on.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, so you turned around and gave him the finger, smiling sickly at him. 

Your date was waiting for you outside the restaurant for you, looking just as good as you remembered, and followed them into the fancy Italian restaurant they had picked out. And the date was going well, the food was nice and the conversation flowed well. You were enjoying yourself, and so was your date by the looks of things.

They paid for you, and you probably said thank you about one hundred times, until you walked outside, your hands brushing slightly and you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“I’ve had a really lovely evening,” you said, looking up at your date who measured a couple of inches taller than you.

“Back to mine?” They asked, pulling at your waist and smirking seductively. You giggled coyly,

“Maybe another time, perhaps?” Truth be told, you weren’t in the mood for anything other than sitting in bed and binge watching some mindless crap on TV, “thanks for tonight, though.” You laughed, pulling away at their tight grip at your waist.

“I don’t think so,” they replied, their eyes furrowing, “you’re coming back to mine. Don’t act like a frigid, when I clearly know you aren’t.”

You began to try and worm your way out of their grip, “you don’t know anything about me.”

They laughed, bending down to your height, “you’re on that dating site, for fucks sake,” their breath hot on your cheeks, causing your eyes to burn and tear up, “and look at you,” they stood back, taking in your appearance, “you look like a common whore. Nobody comes on a date dressed like that, without the intention of getting fucked.” They whispered harshly, before clenching their jaw and grabbing onto your left wrist and pulling you further and further away from the direction of your home. 

“Get off me!” You screamed, digging your shoes into the tarmac ground. You, of course, had been trained to fight back. It was one of the first things Cobb did when you had been recruited as part of their team, and you picked it up easily. However, your date was much bigger than you and you weren’t exactly prepared, on in the most agile clothing. 

Their grip on your wrist tightened, and they clamped their free hand around your mouth, reducing you to grunts and concealed yells for help. Your hand wailed around, trying to hit your date anywhere you could. 

The two of you had gotten to a door, which you presumed was theirs, since they began to rearrange their hands so that they could get the keys out from their back jean pocket. You took this chance to punch them square in the face with your spare hand, that wasn’t locked to your back, and kick them in the stomach. Their grip around your mouth and wrist loosened, so you wiggled free and began running in the general direction of the garage, where you knew Cobb would be. 

You hid behind a wall, and slipped your heels off and continued to run easier, since you now had bare feet instead of six-inch heels. You ran and ran and ran, ignoring the sharp pains in the soles of your feet, as you stepped over glass and gravel towards the dimly lit garage. 

You didn’t need a mirror to see that your looked like a mess; your skirt had ridden up and was skewed to the left slightly. Your makeup had smudged, and mascara and eyeliner were running down your face as your eyes teared up at the harsh wind slapped you in the face as your ran. 

You feebly opened the industrial door to the focal point of you and your work colleagues, expecting it to be deserted except for Cobb in the corner, since he never really slept anymore. Or maybe Ariadne working silently on another location for the dream. Part of you hoped it would be completely empty, not needing any of your friends to see you in such a state.

But it wasn’t Cobb sat in the corner, it was someone you hadn’t wanted to see all evening. As you were running you could hear his comments about your skirt and how defenceless you were, and you had been praying to above that he’d have gone home. 

“You look a bit worse for wares, (Y/N).” He said reading a book, not looking up at your arrival, “have a bit too much to drink?” 

You slammed the door and ignored his petty comments, before going over to the sofa and lying down. Your silence and lack of comeback caused Eames to look up from whatever he was reading, and over to your shivering mess of a body slumped on the discoloured sofa.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cursed, before quickly making his way to you on the opposite side of the room. You yawned and mumbled that you were fine, before looking at your nails, “(Y/N), don’t be stupid. I know you’re not bloody fine!” 

Your eyes rolled involuntarily, at how he had to insult you even though he was trying to be comforting. Eames had reached you now, and crouched down so that his head was level with yours, and the two of you made eye contact.

Despite never getting along with your irritating colleague, you had always found him rather attractive, Maybe it was his British accent, or maybe it was his physique. Or maybe it was how he never pushed it, when you two fought, and he knew never to actually upset your feelings. 

“(Y/N).” He began softly, “what happened?”

You took a deep breath and began to explain how your evening panned out, including how your date commented on the length of your skirt, “I know you’ll just say that I was stupid, and asking for it because of my outfit. But please, I swear to God Eames, if you say ‘I told you so’,” you muttered not making eye contact with him, “I’ll punch you so hard in the dick that you’ll never be able to have children.” You gritted your teeth, before looking at him through your long damp lashes.

His hands went up in surrender, “noted,” his mouth formed a grin for a split second, before disappearing as quickly as it arrived, “not that I was going to say that anyway, love. Men are disgusting, and I’m sorry you had to go through that; even if you went wearing nothing, you still wouldn’t be asking for it.”

You smiled slightly.

“They deserve to be in prison,” Eames’ eyebrows furrowed, “tell me their name, and I’ll go kick them unconscious for you immediately.” He stood up and looked at you expectantly.

“Don’t be stupid.” You laughed, wiping under your eyes despite knowing it would smudge your makeup even more, “then you’d be put in prison. And who would I have to make fun of everyday?” 

Eames looked you adoringly, curled up in the corner of the ratty sofa, and sat down next to you. His weight caused the pillow to sink down, and you slowly let yourself slide next to him, your clothed thighs brushing up against each other.

Eames looked down at your tired makeup stained face, still thinking that you were the most beautiful girl in the world. Even though he, too, went on dinner dates with multiple girls in whichever city they were in; he didn’t call back any of them, despite the dates going well. Because, at the end of the day, they weren’t you- and none of them could make him laugh as loud as you did. And that was all he cared about; you and him laughing, no matter if it was because you had insulted him or vice versa.

“Can I kiss you?” You looked up at the man you’d known for roughly five years, who constantly annoyed you, realising that he was the one that you’d always want to come back to. No one could ever replace the stupid relationship that you had with him. However, his taken aback face told you that whatever you were thinking was unrequited, “sorry.” You apologised immediately, feeling embarrassed, “Ignore me. Pretend I never sai-”

He cut off your rambling by kissing you softly. So softly, that he was almost afraid of breaking you. You smiled, kissing him back more eagerly and messily, probably due to your fragile and slightly intoxicated mind.

He pulled away, mumbling something about how he shouldn’t be taking advantage of an upset girl, and how you’d probably regret everything in the morning. 

“You have lipstick on your teeth,” you poked his cheek with your index finger, causing him to look at you abruptly, his mouth curving into a smile that took up half of his face. He leaned back in the sofa, letting out a gruff laugh, before looking over at your triumphant face.

“So do you,” he laughed, causing your face to fall slightly and punch him on the arm lightly.

“I hate you,” you spoke indignantly.

“I thought you did for five years, (Y/N).” Eames admitted honestly, “but I know that you don’t now.” He leaned his head down to yours, and pecked you quickly on the lips, “and I’m never going to let you forget it.”