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f1byjessie · 3 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part three.

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yourusername is it time for bahrain yet?! can’t wait to see these two back in action again soon! 🧡

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mclaren We keep asking ourselves the same thing! Our engines are ready and we’re raring to go! 🧡

↳ yourusername you truly understand me mclaren admin

↳ mclaren we think you’re the one who truly understands us y/n

↳ user y/n x mclaren admin?? 🤯 the plot twist none of us saw coming

user missing these lads so much lately

user THE RADIO SILENCE ON OSCAR’S SOCIALS WAS KILLING ME I DEPEND ON THESE MEN TOO MUCH THEY KEEP ME ALIVE 😭😭

user the f1 drought is real rn

user MCLAREN SUPREMACY 2024

↳ user i’m trying to be delulu but we all know it’s just gonna be the mv33 and redbull show again this year 🫤

user soooo are we all just gonna pretend like we didn’t see the pics of her with garrett ward orrrrr?

↳ user no bc i was just thinking the same thing 👀

↳ user wait that was actually her??? cuz you can like barely see her face so i thought it was just a joke???

user what a fake ass bitch

user she only posts other ppl on her acc cuz she knows her ugly ass face would scare everyone else away

user homegirl needs to stay tf away from my man fr 😤😤

user god what a hoe 😒 she already has these two that she could fuck with idk why she needed to go after garrett

user SLUT SLUT SLUT

user if she tries anything with anyone else on the city team i’m gonna lose my shit fr

↳ user same omg

↳ user honestly i’m just glad she didn’t go after grealish or haaland 🙌

↳ user she probably would’ve tried if they weren’t taken already 🙄

↳ user nah i bet she’s totally a homewrecker garrett’s probably just the first on her list

user oh… these comments… 😰

↳ user right???

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yourusername the city boys know how it’s done! and looking pretty good in orange too 😉

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mancity The lads are looking good indeed! This weekend’s match against Newcastle should be an exciting one! ⚽️🩵

mclaren ✍️ Jeremy ✍️ Doku ✍️ and ✍️ Ruben ✍️ Dias ✍️ McLaren ✍️ 2025

↳ mancity Do you think Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri would look good in sky blue? 🤔

user funny how she posts every city man BUT garrett

user god when does she go back to f1??

↳ user march iirc

↳ user well it can’t get here soon enough jfc

user FUCK OFF WE DON’T WANT YOU

user you’re a slag and should accept the fact that any guy would only want you bc of how easy you are

user i’ll bet my left leg that the only reason the f1 boys haven’t shacked up with her yet is cuz they know she’s probably riddled with disease since she drools over every guy that comes near her 😒 like girl needs to bffr and realize that throwing herself at every male in her vicinity isn’t gonna land her a husband and it just making her even more of a slut

↳ user nah i’ll bet they’ve all already done her over in f1 but nobody will touch her now that they’ve passed her round so she had to come over to football just to try and get someone to touch her again 🙄🙄🙄

user i hope garrett realizes how much of a slut she is and breaks up with her

user sick and tired of bitches like this getting with footballers and being all controlling. like i’ll bet she’s gonna tell garrett he can’t go out and party with his mates anymore bc he has to spend time in with her and then she’ll get all pissy about him having female fans bc she’s insecure and knows that if garrett got to meet a REAL fan he’d jump ship immediately. those of us who ACTUALLY care about footballers know their fans are super important to them and we wouldn’t hinder their relationship with them just bc we’re jealous or insecure. garrett needs to be with someone who actually supports him and is willing to let him do what he wants instead of controlling him like he’s a dog on a leash.

user kys like genuinely

user god i can’t wait for this skank to die 😒

“Hey Lando, it’s me. Your best friend. Again,” you give a humorless chuckle. “I could seriously use some of your wizened advice right about now, so, uh, please just give me a call back when you can. Thanks.”

It seems poetic in a cruel sort of way that less than a week ago you were walking Etihad Campus and feeling like you were on top of the world━ working a new albeit temporary gig, adding the Manchester City name to your list of clients, having photos of world-renowned footballers in your portfolio━ and now you’ve resigned yourself to hiding away in the women’s restroom, locked in a stall because it’s the only place you could think of where nobody would be able to find you.

You’re on the verge of tears and feeling rather stupid for it.

It’s the third time today alone that your call has gone straight to voicemail, and with the dozens of unread texts you’ve sent in the last week added to the mix, it’s starting to paint a picture you’re not very happy with. Lando is ignoring you. Or he’s blocked you. Or he’s blocked you because he’s ignoring you━

You bite down on your lip, hard, to keep back the sob crawling its way up your throat.

You’re not a PR officer, you hadn’t been lying when you told Garrett that, but you’ve spent enough time around the McLaren PR teams that you’ve picked up enough tips and tricks to know, at the very least, that the best thing you can do is just ignore the comments.

That’s what they tell all the athletes.

What they don’t tell the athletes is that ignoring the comments is much easier said than done, especially when your career requires you to have such a significant online presence. And the thing is, despite all of these strangers hounding you with every name under the sun and criticizing your capabilities, qualifications, and very existence, the thing that hurts the most is the radio silence from the only person you know could make it all better.

Now, more than ever, you need your best friend. But he isn’t here.

You tuck your phone into your jacket pocket and unlock the stall with great reluctance. You know better than to be hiding away, shirking your responsibilities while crying over a few missed phone calls. You have a job to do, and a real professional wouldn’t let something as simple as a handful of tasteless comments get in the way of that.

You should be used to them. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

Your first month at McLaren wasn’t entirely different.

When you were first hired on, Carlos had been in Formula One for a handful of years already and had built up a devotedly loyal fanbase with a decently large percentage of possessive fangirls who had come for your head the moment your existence had been announced.

The McLaren Instagram account had posted a picture of you standing between their two grinning drivers, your camera strung around your neck, with a very nice caption welcoming you to the team, and despite no indication that you were by any means involved with either of them in a way that went beyond professional, the comments had been taken over by feral teenage girls who saw the act of you simply standing near Carlos to be a direct threat against their “chances.”

Though it had been frustrating being met with childish threats and petty insults in your comments, you hadn’t really held it against any of them. You remember being a teenage girl and crushing on a celebrity. Deep down you knew you never had a chance with them, but that hadn’t stopped you from hanging posters in your bedroom and doodling their name beneath yours inside of scribbled hearts in your diary.

Regardless, it had taken close to a month for the negativity to die down, and you hadn’t had Lando then, either, so now shouldn’t be much different.

In fact, everyone on the Manchester City team━ trainers, physios, media coordinatiors, and anyone inbetween━ has been very polite about everything between you and Garrett. A lot of them have just avoided saying anything about it, which you’re very grateful for because you don’t think you’d be able to hold back your grimace while thanking them for their well wishes, and the few who have mentioned it typically only say something vague like a wishing you the best of luck or hoping you’re happy.

An intern gave you a sympathetic smile the other day, and you’d nearly burst into tears in the middle of the office of the Director of Communications, so you know you aren’t truly alone in this.

You just feel alone.

Exiting the bathroom is a simple affair. There’s no one standing post outside ready to give you any shit for being hidden away, and nobody comes sprinting around the corner as you make your way down the hall to the press conference room that’s been temporarily turned into your base of operations.

You think you’ll probably be able to go the rest of the afternoon without running into anyone, when you open your door and find━ sitting in the front row of the seats typically saved for journalists and the press, scrolling across his phone with a disinterested look painted across his face━ Jack Grealish.

“Jack,” you greet, a bit shocked. You close the door to the room gently behind you, and cross the distance to your desk. “Did we have a meeting scheduled? It must’ve completely slipped my mind, I sincerely apologize.”

He offers you a polite smile. “No, we didn’t, so no need to be sorry. I actually just wanted to check in. See how things are going with everything.”

You blink at him in surprise. Apart from Garrett, you haven’t really had much time to speak with the other players. They wish you good morning and good afternoon when they see you, and if a ball goes astray they always call out for you to watch your head, but between their morning training and their afternoon training, their strategy reviews at lunch, and the frequent in between meetings with physios, nutritionists, and trainers, they don’t get much time to chit chat with a simple photographer.

You clear your throat, “Erm, it’s going well. I’ve gotten some really good shots these past few days. There’s one with Rodrigo that I’m particularly proud of. It should do well with the fans.”

“And things with Ward?”

You purse your lips.

“Figured.” Jack sighs. “Look, nearly everyone you run into here knows or has at least some inkling into what he’s like. He’s a prick. None of the lads on the team like him, it’s why the managers are trying to get him out of here.”

You lower yourself down into your chair. “He told me they were planning to trade him off because of his reputation.”

Jack scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s the ‘official’ reason. They can’t cut his contract early for legal reasons, so they’re waiting for it to expire and coming up with an excuse for why they ain’t re-signing him. It’s really just ‘cause the rest of us can’t keep dealing with his massive ego and the fact that he’s a misogynistic fuck who doesn’t know the first thing about respect.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” you mutter with a sigh.

If he expected you to defend Garrett and is surprised by the fact that you haven’t, Jack doesn’t show it. He looks relaxed sitting across from you, like you’re having a casual conversation and not actively shit talking a member of his team. It gives you the impression that he knows significantly more about Garrett than you do, and that because of what he knows he probably figured out that one party in the relationship is not the most willing of participants.

“How’d you get all wrapped up it in then? Didn’t figure you to be the type to go after pricks like Ward.”

You debate over whether you should tell him or not. There isn’t much Jack can do about the situation regardless, but it would at least get things off your chest and if someone else knew then maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

There’s only so many days you can spend hiding out in the women’s restroom trying not to bawl your eyes out, and you’ve already reached your limit.

You heave a sigh, “It’s kind of fucked up really.” A pen on your desk catches your attention and you start to fiddle with it, avoiding Jack’s eyes which have focused directly onto you. “He asked if I would help him fix up his reputation by pretending to be his girlfriend so he could show everyone that he’s matured and can hold down a steady relationship. When I told him no, he threatened to make up a lie about inappropriate conduct to get me fired and blacklisted from the industry, so for the sake of preserving my career I agreed.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Jack murmurs, shaking his head. “I’m real sorry he did that, Y/N.”

You shrug. “It’s happened, so, there’s nothing I can really do except wait it out at this point.”

When you look up and meet his gaze, Jack looks murderous. His hands are clenched into fists on the armrests, knuckles white with the strength of his grip. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are twisted downward in a scowl.

“If you need anything,” he starts, “let me know. And I mean it. We all know how Ward can be. He’s a knobhead. So if you need anything━” his emphasis on the word and what that implies makes you feel more comforted than anything has since the whole fiasco started, “━then you let me know, or you tell one of the other boys and they’ll find me, alright?”

All you can do is nod.

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yourusername there’s no place like home

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━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry

━━ a/n: no lando yet, but we've got a cutesy little grealish scene to make up for it because i couldn't have a story with manchester city and not include him! lowkey writing this part made me wanna write for a footballer too... anyways! hope you all enjoy!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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solarsa1nt · 3 months

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𐚁֙࿐ APPEARANCES

ryōmen sukuna x fem!reader

Tags — fluff , cuddling , innate domain , soft sukuna

Notes — none

It's ironic, Y/N supposes.

How one of the most insufferable beings to her was the one who brings her the most comfort on nights like these.

There was an unspoken arrangement— Y/N wasn't sure how it even started, mostly remembering vague images through the tears that had blurred her vision that night.

Of the sea of blood that coated the ground beneath them, of the ribcage trapping them inside like the cage, of the soft white of the kimono she clung onto.

Y/N shifts her leg so her calf was no longer pressing into one of the sharp horns that constructed the throne they were atop of.

The arms around her waist tighten at the action, unconsciously pulling her closer as a small sigh leaves Y/N's lips.

She didn't even know Sukuna could sleep. Y/N thinks to herself, unamused gaze tracing over the curse's features— vaguely noting how they seemed sharper than Yuuji's.

Actually, he seemed to be overall different than Yuuji. Sure, it's undoubtable that they looked uncannily similar, but Sukuna makes Yuuji seem older— the way he wore Yuuji's skin was so different that after truly looking at him, it's a surprise that they're meant to be identical.

And their faces... Y/N raises a hand, curiosity making up her expression as she goes to grab his face— wanting to tilt it to get a better angle.

Her plans come screeching to a halt as a tattooed hand grabs her wrist.

The hold was tight, yet somehow not painful. Two red eyes peer open, the bottom pair narrowed at her as the main set stays closed.

"And what do you think you're doing, brat?"

Y/N stays silent, continuing to stare at him wordlessly as her lips part slightly in surprise before closing once again.

The top set of eyes eventually open to glare at her directly, puddles of red that showed mild annoyance mixed with something unreadable deep within them.

"..Your face is different from Yuuji's." Y/N voices her observation quietly, as if she were still only just processing that fact herself.

"Oh? And that's what made you grow bold enough to touch me without permission?" Sukuna questions, yet still lets go of her wrist, allowing it to fall between them.

The one hand still around her waist tightens, the other raising to lean his head against as he continues to stare at her.

Y/N blinks back at him with an unfazed expression, "Is it because of the amount of fingers he consumed? Can you alter your appearance— if so, why only slight changes? Could you return to your original appeara—"

"Enough questions." Sukuna cuts her off before she could voice the rest of her thoughts.

An agitated frown tugs on her lips, but Y/N remains reluctantly silent. She knew what limits she could and couldn't push— she couldn't bring herself to risk whatever was going on between them.

Moving his hand that was propping up his head, he pushes her head against his shoulder— momentary confusion stemming from Y/N before she decides just to accept whatever was happening.

He's comfortable, so who is she to complain?

Vaguely, Y/N wonders how anybody else would react if she told them about using the king of curses as a pillow— a comfortable pillow, at that.

Well, whatever, it's not like she plans on telling anybody about this. Ever.

© 𝓢OLARSAINT 2024 ─── all of my works belong me alone! do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or spread any of my works in any other social media platform. these have only been reloaded on my own accounts on ao3 and wattpad

#ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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runningfrom2am · 4 months

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cold nights // part six

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i just finished writing s1, and we're halfway through! so in case anyone was wondering, s1 will have 12 parts :) i haven't started s2 yet but i am so excited to!!

series masterlist // playlist

Days passed, no sign of Coryo. The only reason you know he isn't dead is because Sejanus came and told you he would be alright. That didn't do much to quell your worries.

Selfishly, you were scared you wouldn't get to see him again. You knew you wouldn't, actually. Now you were truly alone. Just you and his blanket, the book he gave you, and the dress your mother made. And Sejanus Plinth, you supposed. None of the surviving tributes would even talk to you- not that you really felt like talking. Just reading. You've read and re-read Romeo and Juliet no less than three times since Coriolanus passed the book through the bars to you the night before you went into the arena.

"I know you asked for this, and it's a little early, but happy birthday." Coryo whispers, smiling as the dark of night encases the two of you into your own little world.

He hands you a small box, wrapped in parcel paper and complete with a ribbon made of some kind of knitting thread. You grin, taking it from his hand and carefully untying the bow, delicately pulling the paper apart where it's taped together so as not to rip it. A copy of Romeo and Juliet. Old, tattered, falling apart; well-loved.

"Oh, Coryo, you didn't have to give me anything. That's too sweet." You grin, immediately flipping through the pages despite the dark preventing you from seeing a single word. "Thank you."

"Of course." He says, watching only you as your eyes flick over the pages. What little light falls from the moon is reflected in your eyes, and he wouldn't dare look away.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." You say softly, and at first, he thinks you're talking to yourself until you look up at him. A small, almost shy smile fit perfectly onto your lips.

"You like it?" He asks, the answer obvious even to him.

"I love it."

You were his tribute. Not a friend, certainly not more, but as he reaches through the bars to let his fingers brush over your cheek all rational thought means nothing. He doesn't realize he's staring at your lips until you comment on it.

"Is this why you asked if I have a boyfriend?" You whisper, your natural smile returns, and he's quickly looking anywhere else. Your eyes, your hair, the spot where his fingertips meet your cheekbone just below your hairline. Anywhere else. "Because I know it wasn't on that list of questions."

He's quickly backtracking, dropping his hand. This was wrong and he knew it. "I, uh, Tigris made you some cake. It's not good, but it's the best we could do." He says, redirecting his attention to his bag as he pulls out the small paper bag.

You sit back, blushing furiously. "I'm sure it's delicious." You smile, and it comes across more nervously than you intended.

"Here." He hands it to you, and you gently place the book next to you on the ground so you don't get any crumbs on it. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

And just like that, he's gone.

You're grateful when you see Sejanus coming back with his bag of food and water. It had become some form of a routine, at this point. The citizens of the Capitol weren't allowed to bring you food anymore, he was the only one who did for you now that Coryo was gone, and now that his tribute had escaped as well.

"Sejanus." You smile, standing up as he gets closer.

"Y/N. Holding up okay?" He asks, a sad look behind his tired eyes. He looked almost as tired as you, you were sure, but you hadn't seen a mirror since you left your house before the reaping.

You sigh. "I'm holding up." You answer simply. Sejanus is the only person you feel comfortable being totally honest with, but at the same time, you don't want to because you know he already feels bad for what you're going through. He's the only one outside this cage who kind of understands. "How about you?"

"I'm alright." He shrugs, reaching into his bag and pulling out a sandwich for you. You could never get sick of these. "I also have salt, if it needs more of that." He hands you a small bag of table salt alongside it.

"Thank you." You grin, tucking the bag into your pocket incase you needed it. "Any news about Coryo?" You ask hopefully, taking a bite. You already feel your starvation-induced nausea fading away.

"Not really. He's recovering, though." Sejanus answers. "Are you ready for the interview tonight?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." You grin. "I was right, I didn't need the book. I already had the whole thing memorized, but it's been so lovely to get to read it again."

"It must be." He nods. "Gives you something to do."

You hum in agreement, looking around at the other tributes. No one is even moving much anymore. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

You look down at your sandwich while you think about how you want to word this. "Is Coryo..." No, that's not it. "I got the feeling that he actually cared for me. Is that true?"

"Coryo has never been one to tell anyone what he's thinking." Sejanus says, entirely unhelpfully. That's not his fault, though. "But if I had to guess, I would say yes."

"I'm just wondering because it's nice to have friends now. Here. At the end." You smile sadly before taking another bite. "And I was worried I had upset him."

"You? No." Sejanus shakes his head. "I don't think you could if you tried."

"Why's that?"

"Well... It's hard to explain. He's always been super focused on school, on the prize, but now, when it matters most, I feel like he's more focused on you and making sure you actually win." He tells you. "But, like I said, he wouldn't talk about it even if I asked him outright."

You nod. "Thank you, Sejanus. For always being honest with me."

"Of course. It's the very least I can do, all things considered."

"Can I ask you for one more favour?" You ask hopefully. "If not I understand, you must be quite busy."

"I have the rest of my life to be busy." He shakes his head. "What do you need?"

"Will you tell Coryo thank you, for me?"

"Yes. Of course." He agrees without hesitation.

"And do you have a pencil and paper?"

Sejanus headed home for a while and then back to the hospital after his visit with you, armed with your note in his pocket to pass on to Coryo. He was hoping he would be awake right now, he had been so on and off the last few days. More grumpy than normal, and Sejanus could tell it was driving him up the wall that he couldn't go see you. But the interviews had already started, so he would get to see you soon- even if it's just through the screen.

"Tigris." He whispers, pulling back the curtain as he sees the familiar girl sitting at his friend's side. She hadn't left her cousin most of the time he'd been bedridden, she was there every time Sejanus checked in.

"Oh, hello." She whispers, smiling at him. "He's still resting, but he's feeling a bit better today I think."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it." Sejanus agrees, taking the seat next to her. "I went to see Y/N. She's eaten. She doesn't look good, though."

Tigris nods, returning her gaze to her sleeping cousin and pushing his hair away from his eyes. It's not like he needs to see, but she would do it anyway. Just to make sure he wouldn't be annoyed when he woke up. "He's been worrying about her. I can tell."

"She asked me if she did something to upset him. Has he said anything to you?"

"No, nothing." She shakes her head, lip jutting out at the confusing statement. Nothing at all would indicate to her that he was upset with you, but it's entirely possible that stuck in that cage day in and day out you could quickly become paranoid about who you could trust.

"Okay, good. That's what I told her anyway." He tries to be quiet as he speaks, but the whispering wakes his friend anyway.

Coryo's eyes fly open and he gasps, eyes landing on the two of them sitting in front of him.

"Coryo," Tigris says softly, a small, worried smile on her face.

"Y/N?" He asks, his voice husky from sleep. "Is she-"

"She's alive," Tigris promises, gently rubbing his arm, landing her hand on his and squeezing it gently.

"Is she hurt?"

"Not badly." Sejanus shakes his head. "A few decent cuts and bruises, but she'll be okay. I brought her some antibiotics the other day so nothing will get infected." You won't be okay, they both know that, but you certainly wouldn't be dying from the minor injuries you sustained in the rebel bombing.

He nods, slightly, trying to sit up. "How long was I sleeping? What did I miss?"

"Another tribute died from injuries," Sejanus replies. "Everyone is still scared. No one will go see them anymore, I haven't seen any of the other mentors there either. But I've been feeding her. She's okay."

Coryo nods, wincing at the pain in his back as he moves. The burn was bad, but apparently, it was healing well.

"Marcus is still missing. I haven't heard anything about him. They're hunting him but I still think he has a better chance out there than he would tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Coryo asks, rubbing his head with his free hand, Tigris still holding his other one. "They're still going ahead with the games?"

Sejanus just slightly shakes his head, looking away. Coryo knows that that is a yes.

"Oh no... Y/N.... She could've run," He mumbles. "But she saved me."

"I tried to convince her to. I did." Sejanus reminds him. "She wouldn't budge."

All heads turn as Lucky's voice on the TV catches their attention. "And now, our final tribute. I first met this young lady in the zoo not too long ago. From District Twelve, Y/N Y/L/N. Come on out here!"

Lucretius motions for you to step out onto the stage and you do, gently placing the book and the blanket you had brought with you on the floor in a neat pile before joining him.

"Lucretius." You smile. "It's good to see you." You're nervous in front of so many people, the audience in front of you is much larger than the small one you spoke in front of at the reaping, and being in front of a camera without Coryo by your side made you antsy.

"You as well, Darling. Now, I was told you had something you wanted to do for us so I'll just leave you to that. Charm us! Remember, the world is watching." He smiles, gently patting your shoulder before walking just out of view of the cameras. His statement was far from reassuring.

"Uhm..." You stare out at the audience, and suddenly you're scared you've forgotten the entire thing. You had to do well. For Coryo and his prize. He needed this. "I've become aware that not many people know this play." You chuckle, trying to hide your nervousness behind it. "But Romeo and Juliet has always held a special place in my heart and I want to share that with the world, before I go."

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. You wonder if Coryo is watching. He's not here, you're sure of that, but you do hope he gets to see. And he does.

He stands up as soon as your face first appears on the screen, declining help from both Tigris and Sejanus as he limps over to the TV, cranking up the volume. Your fate depends on this, he knows it, but he can't look past the blue tint under your eyes and the bruises that litter almost every part of your exposed skin. The cuts are what get him the most. Your knuckles are cleaned up, mostly, but red and irritated as you twist your hands together nervously in front of you. Same with the crude black stitches on your upper arm. Irritated, neglected by professionals, but at least it wasn't serious.

"Come on... You can do it." He mumbles mostly to himself, and Tigris reaches up to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder as the three of them watch.

"O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Immediately, he is confused. He expected to be, of course, but he could also tell as soon as you started reciting it, after the first line, your confidence was coming back to you. This play was your safe space.

"Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love; and I'll no longer be a Capulet." You look out at the silent audience as you speak, a smile forming on your lips. They're listening. "'Tis but thy name that is my enemy: Thou art thyself, though not a Montague."

Coryo is wishing you had explained more to him about what this play is about. "What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot, nor arm nor face nor any other part belonging to a man. Oh, be some other name." He should have asked. Why didn't he ask? You told him yourself that you could talk about it for hours. Why didn't he take advantage of that when he had the chance?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title." A rose. Of course a rose, was this for him? He longed to understand it better as he watched the donations tracker tick up and up toward the thousands.

"Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name, which is no part of thee," You take a deep breath for the first time since you started speaking. "Take all myself."

It was a beat or two before the audience clued in that you were done, and then the cheers started. A standing ovation, people wiping their eyes and clapping for you like you had changed their lives.

"Wow! Now wasn't that something, everyone!" Lucky laughs, coming back into the frame of Coryo's view from the camera. Tigris was in tears. The continual uptick of the donations counter was reassuring to him. As you smiled, cheeks flushing red. "The donations are just flooding in with a record high! That must feel good."

"Thank you, it does." You nod at Lucky, trying to place all your focus on him so you don't get too embarrassed in front of the crowd. At least you knew Coryo would be pleased. If you understood his prize situation as well as you thought you did, this was very good for him. "I just want to make my family and my mentor proud."

"You have a real talent. It's such a shame." The host says to you and you laugh awkwardly.

"Well, everyone loves something. I just loved books."

You continually referring to yourself in the past tense makes Coryo want to puke, looking away from the screen only briefly to take in the other nurses and patients watching too.

"We have just a few moments left, but I need to know, what is that about?"

"Oh! Well, Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy." You explain, back to yourself again. "It's about two star-crossed lovers from feuding families. So, what Juliet was talking about, to put it very simply because I could go on and on about this, was that she loved Romeo for who he was- not just his name or his family. It didn't matter to her that they came from different places. She loves him anyway, and if he couldn't let go of his family, she would give up her own life for him."

Coryo's eyes widen. So it was about him. He can't help the tug on his lips that threatens to form a smile.

"Alrighty then, that's very sweet." Lucky replies. "Now, you said it's a tragedy. What is so tragic about a love story?"

"Well," You chuckle nervously. "They both die at the end."

taglist: @soulessjourney, @keziahcore, @that-veela-girl, @motorsport, @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @Lanadelrey3, @rawrmameh, @3zae-zae3, @babyspice6, @pastel0rchid, @maysileeewrites, @articxari, @Urfavpouge, @Multivitaminfy, @baybieruth, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @drewsandsebastianswife, @niicole-87, @queenofshinigamis, @innercreationflower, @nallasstuff, @spring-goddess1, @baybieruth, @lovelyxtom, @throughgoeshxmilton, @enwonie, @scorpiolystoned, @iovemoonyy, @kodzuvk, @soupasoup, @eedwardss, @thatmarvelchick19, @wearemadeofstardust0, @regulusblackcore, @kbakery , @qardasngan, @omgsuperstarg, @kuroosbby001, @puredreamagination, @fantasticchaosthing, @coolcatyarb, @yokolesbianism, @becauseseaotters, @KimmiB13

if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!

#tbosas #tbosas fic #hunger games #coriolanus snow #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #thg fanfiction #thg series #thg movies #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo x reader #coryo snow #snow lands on top

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elryuse · 7 months

Text

MOONLIT SEDUCTION

MIYEON X MALE READER

Tags : Co-worker, Teasing, Seduction, Creampie

It was late at night, you and your co-workers were busy finishing all of the left over papers that have been given by your boss. Everybody was hella tired, including yourself. Your whole body was so stiff, and your eyebags were so black and lifeless. All you can think about is having a nice cold glass of beer to make all of the stress go away.

So After you're done with your work. You asked all of your co-workers to have a nice drink at a nearby Gukbap restaurant. And without any hesitation, all of your co-workers agreed. And so the night went on. You're currently having a big cold pint of beer, followed by a nice warm bowl of Gukbap, a bowl of steaming hot rice, and a platter of banchan at the table.

The moment the soup and rice touches your tounge, it immediately warms your soul like never before. The feeling was so cozy not to mention, when you followed it by drinking some cold glass of beer. The feeling was just majestic and refreshing. Your co-workers are also enjoying the atmosphere of the restaurant as well.

Not to mention this particular co-worker of yours. You kinda forget about her name. But if you're not wrong her name is something starting with Miyeon or something. But not gonna lie. She's looking beautiful af tonight. I mean she's not wearing her usual office look. She instead changes her clothes to something a bit more revealing and a bit sensual.

"Hi there"?

"O-oh Hi".

"Do you remember my name"?

"U-uhmm... I kinda forgot sorry".

"Ahh crap... That's alright... I'm Miyeon... And you are"?

"Oh.. Y/n.. Park Y/n".

"Oooh... You're that new kid"?

"Ah yes.. Ahahah".

"Well... I hope you're doing your best alright".

"You gott itt".

As she sways her way to your other co-workers. You can actually see something that you shouldn't see. Because her dress was so short and tight. Every time she leans on someone. You kinda see her panties and a little bit of her ass as well. You were kinda shy and wanted to tell her, but she was just enjoying her time. So you didn't really bother to tell her.

This party continued, until it was basically midnight. And everybody was pretty much Deadass drunk and tired. So after helping your co-workers to get home safely. You were left out there with none other than Miyeon. You kinda forget that she didn't go home yet, so the whole situation was pretty awkward actually.

"So... It's just us left huh"?

"Y-yeah... ".

"Hmm... Well I think it's time to go home... It's getting late".

"Y-yeah you're right Noona".

"Hey.. Uhm... Can you possibly... Accompany me back home? I swear it's pretty close to here.. I'm scared to go home at this hour by myself".

"O-oh O-okay.. I-if it's alright with you.. ".

" *chukle* I'll be more than welcome to be accompanied by a cute guy like you Y/n... *grab your hand* Alright... Let's grab a taxi".

"O-okay".

WELL... THIS IS AWKWARD.

"What are you waiting for? *chukle* Get inside dummyy".

"O-okayy".

Inside the Taxi. Miyeon was basically holding on to your hand tightly. It was awkward yet comforting for you. Especially knowing that you'll never do something like this in your life. She was very playful and even teased you pretty much the whole trip. She started playing around with her hands by touching and rubbing your hands. Slowly going down and closer to your crotch.

Before she finally stops. And giggles at your cute reaction.

"Are you horny baby"?

"N-noona not here and not nowww"!!

"What's wrong.. The driver won't hear us don't worry".

"Stopp... This is wrong... I don't even know you yet".

"So what"??

Miyeon suddenly grabbed a hold of your erected cock. Before admiring how big it has gotten. She giggles and licks her lips as if a predator was locked on to its prey. She suddenly gets closer to you.. And she suddenly kisses your neck.

" *mwah* "

" *shocked* Whaaa... ".

"Hehe your reaction is so goddamn cutee".

"P-please stop Noona".

"Nuh uhh".

/sorry to bother you two.. But... We're here/

"O-oh Thanks sir".

"Thank you Sir.. Have a good night".

/Hahaha yeah yeah... Have fun.. You two/

After stepping a single foot inside her apartment room. Miyeon immediately pushes you towards her room. Kissing your lips passionately. The way her tounge intertwined with your own was hot not gonna lie. She was very good at this... And Y-you are just starstruck.

"Hmm..... Let's do it".

"... *pant*.... D-do what.. "?

" *smirk* I'll just remove this dress... And then..... Tadaa".

"N-noona"??

Miyeon suddenly undresses right in front of your eyes. Her skin was white and smooth. Her body was petite and so perfect. She Smirked while eyeing your body from head to toe. She smiles, before walking closer and closer to you..

"Let's go to my bedroom".

" *gulp* ".

"It's okayy... Babe... I'll be gentle on you".

As you walked towards her bedroom. You Were suprised by the amount of furniture that was scattered all around her room. It wasn't a cheap piece of decor either, I mean I can clearly see an art piece that would sell for thousands, heck maybe even million of dollars just sitting there on her walnut colored wall.

"Don't let that decoration bother us babe... We're here to fuck not to see some boring art piece... Come here... ".

"O-okay".

Suddenly Miyeon grabs your body and slams it down to the mattress, before plantimg her soft and silky lips down to your own. The kiss was long and delicious, the way her tounge twisted inside your mouth was divine. After the kiss ended, she immediately started to ride your cock slowly and Erotically. She didn't insert it just yet and just playfully teasing you.

"F-fuck.. N-noona".

" *chukle* Do you want me? Do you want to fuck me baby"?

At this point rejecting her offer is just plain dumb and outrageous to do. So without any hesitation you immediately said.

"Yes. I want to fuck you so bad".

" *chukle* beg harder baby.. And maybe I'll let you do it inside of me".

"P-please Miyeon Noona.. Please let me fuck you... I've always loved you.. And I always wanted to fuck you".

"Mhm... *chukle* alright then".

And just like that, Your cock makes an entrance to her now wet and slippery walls. When you went in, Her pussy walls immediately gripped onto your cock. The feeling was heavenly and there was just nothing like it.

"Fuckk...".

"Mhmmm so big... Hehe".

"N-noona You're so tight".

"Mhm.. Do you like it"?

"Y-yes.. Yes I do.. It's heavenly".

"I'm glad... But this is not enough.. Fuck me harder baby".

And you rightfully did. You started to increase your pace and started to give her pussy a nice fucking. Miyeon immediately started moaning like crazy and started to grip your chest harder than before.... The sound of flesh slapping was so loud it started to become music to your ears.

Before long, You're already on your limit. Your cock just couldn't handle the tightness of her pussy. Your cum is basically leaking right now.. And all you want to do now is to release all of your seed deep inside of her.

"Are you close baby"?

"Y-yes.. ".

" *chukle* mhmm... Then cum in me... Cum inside me... Cum inside my fucking womb".

"Fuck.. Fuck fuck... I'm cumminh Noona".

"Yes.. Ahhhh fuckkk... Cumm inside meee".

*Splurttt*

And just like that. You've released all of your seed deep inside her womb. Both of you got tired and just basically cuddled in her big ass bed. She slowly makes her hand on your face before caressing it and kissing your lips.

"Starting from today.. You're mine got it"?

"O-okay Noona".

" *chukle* Just call me Miyeon babe.. ".

"O-okay Miyeon".

~ The End ~

#kpop #sexy content #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #miyeon #gidle #gidle smut #kpop smut #smut

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hobisstar · 8 months

Text

still with you | y!jungkook x fem!reader

summary: being the most famous and popular youtuber and singer has its kicks. great fans, terrible fans, weird fans, you’ve seen and had them all… but this fan? you wish you never had…

warnings: jk is WEIRD okay he’s weird asf in this, male masturbation, stalking, jungkook is an idol in this, mentions of kidnapping, murders, yandere.

tag list: none.

note: i’ll switch from You to Y/N a lot. Bold and Line Through. Are Jk’s negative thoughts, more so the weird ones. this is a preview imagine of spooktober!!

“so who’s your favorite singer, Jungkook?” an interviewer asked as they, BTS, where doing a short little tv appearance. the question was, who is an artist you’d love to collaborate with in the near future, everyone had their fair share of answers but the one person Jungkook had in mind was no other than, Y/N L/N.

She was bigger than any other singer or youtuber out there, with 45 Million subscribers on youtube and millions of fans over the world, she was everywhere. She has done video collaborations with CoryxKenshin, Berleezy, PG, DashieGames and many more. She is adored.

Jungkook found her channel when she was a newbie to the youtuber world. He liked the video of her trying on different clothes from all over the world, room tours, decorating, gaming videos, vlogs, but he got more into her once he found out she did music. He had to be the first person to ever really be her fan in his eyes, of course. He loved her for a very long time.

“I’d have to say, Y/N L/N… i love her… style and her youtube channel. i’m a huge fan!” he answered happily. The crowded went absolutely crazy as he’s always talked about Y/N. you would think they dated the way he promoted her so much.

“Really? she is coming her next Friday for an interview! did you hear she’s doing a world tour, starting with South K?” the interviewer asked. “Yes yes, i want to get me a ticket the minute they go on sale..” he smiled happily and the crowd awed at his answer.

“I’ll definitely let you guys know when my tickets go on sale, obviously! That’s it for now, until next time, see you!” You smiled ending the recording and big a stretch. You are glad that it was just a little clip that you need to edit to post out later, but boy was it tough being a youtuber, you loved it though.

As soon as you got up you heard your phone going off profusely. You went to grab it and saw it was twitter and you were being tagged in a certain posted. It was a video of Jungkook from BTS during a, which you assume, recent interview. “ I love her.” is what a lot of fans were saying in the comments. It was a quote of what Jungkook said in the video. Instead of really responding just yet you reshared the clip saying “ The love is mutual 💜 @BTS_twt!” and posted it.

You’ve always been a fan of BTS! You loved everything about them, the message they were sending out about loving yourself, taking care of you, living your life no matter what anyone has to say about it, you loved it all! You never really knew that Jungkook was a fan of yours. Little do you know you wished you never knew that..

“Kook, you’ve been literally staring at her retweet since we got back to the hotel.” Taehyung spoke out with his eyebrow up. “I’m starting to think this is a little more than a fan thing. You have a crush on her don’t you?” Jin in also chipped in, pinching Jungkooks cheeks. The two were ready to start to teasing him. “ Actually, i do.” he stated calmly still looking at the tweet thing clicking on her twitter account.

“ Oh, we thought we had a chance to tease you… fuck.” Taehyung said as the elevator dinged. “ Well, we will see you in a few for dinner? jimin and I have a Vlive to do. Get some rest!” He spoked as Him and Jimin stepped out the elevator and walked to jimins room.

Jungkook nodded and walked to his room, taking out his keycard and holding it to the door to open it. He sighed as he walked in and instantly decided to take a shower. He went into the bathroom, started the water, put on some music, Y/N of course, and got undressed.

He stepped into the shower and let out a moan of relaxation. Jung let the water run down his body and he closed his eyes. Soon, a picture of you appeared in his head. You and him, together, in the shower taking turns to clean each other. He took his hands that was covered in soap and grasped your beautiful tits and slowly massaged them. The image of him doing that sent a shock wave to his crotch, which he tried to ignore.

Slowly the image started to get steamy, your imaginary moans filled his ears making them melt. Jungkook grabbed his hard length that was dripping from the water and his precum. He began the stroke his cock slowly imagining it was your tight pussy. He moaned going faster feeling himself about the release any minute. He never lasted when he imagined it, but he promised you, kinda, that he’d go longer, seven days a week even. As he cummed and grunted watching his cum shoot all over the shower walls and some getting on the floor, he saw your face one last time and it was you giving you a sweet kiss on the tip of his cock that sent shivers up his spine.

After, he cleaned himself with some warm vanilla with brown sugar and almonds scented soap, your favorite, he got out, dried off, and got dressed. Jungkook looked at the time and saw he still had an hour to spare.

He went to bag and took out his computer and decided to watch a few of your videos. This is his day to day. You are his day to day schedule. No matter what, he will get at least 5 videos of Y/N in a day.

Concerts were always fun! Making music was fun too! But once you heard that you would be collaborating with the Jeon Jungkook for a cover of his song Still With You, you were shocked! I mean less than A day ago, you found out that he was a huge fan, now you are collaborating with him?

You were currently in the studio rehearsing some of the notes when your manager walks in and says “ Hey! Mr, Jeon is on his way up! Just thought i should let you know.” He smiles and as your about to answer there is a soft knock. “ Come on in.” you say and stand up. Jungkook walks in and you almost gasp.

“Oh my you are more handsome in person.” Manager says lets out a little chuckle. “ I’m Tim, I’m her manager and that’s obviously -“ “ Y/N…” Jungkook cut Tim off before he could even get your name out. He couldn’t stop staring at you. Gosh, you are so beautiful in person. So small under his gaze. ‘i could take her from here, kill her manager and live off the grid, nobody would know. just so little…’

“ Right! It’s so nice to meet you, Jungkook! Um, you can sit here,” you point to the chair “ I’m gonna head in the booth to record these parts.” you smiled and took the paper in with you. Jungkook eagerly but slowly sat down in your chair. Watching as you put on the headset. Tim walked over and pressed a few buttons to make sure that it was recording. He put his thumb up and Y/N was in her own world.

“So, Jungkook, how long are you in the states for?” Tim asked leaning against the side of the frame, watching Y/N. Honestly, Jungkook hated Tim. He hated any that got close to what was his. He didn’t like it. When y/n did collaborate on videos he would report that video and thumbs down it. Even with songs he wouldn’t listen to it. He hated Tim because he wish he was Tim. Near her 24/7, being able to touch her, smell her, make her laugh, pick her outfits, take her to dinner, all the things Tim could do. He wanted Tim out the picture. Now.

“ Well originally it wasn’t for long, but then this opportunity came up and i wasn’t going to miss it for anything.” He answered plainly also staring at Y/N but with a different look in his eyes, Lust, Love, and Fear. Fear for you seeing him do what he was about to do to Tim. He didn’t want his wife getting scared yet. They haven’t even moved away yet.

“Yeah same with her. I’m gonna step out. I have a few things to do for a few other artists. Have fun and make a beautiful hit, i already know it is.” Tim smiled and left just like that. Jungkook let a breath of fresh air out. Finally.

Finally. It was time. Jungkook got up and took off his jacket. It was getting hot in here to him, though he knows Y/N prefers her studio cold. He went to the light switched and looked up seeing the lights could be changed to colors, he chose purple. Your favorite.

Y/N stepped out of the recording booth and closed the door to it and sat back down. You instantly went over your vocals and nodded your head liking how they came out. “ they are beautiful… perfect even.” Jungkook mumbled from behind you and pulled up a chair sitting a little too close to you. You definitely noticed it.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” Y/N smiled and stood up to look at a few things and Y/N almost wanted to run. The whole vibe was off, y/n could feel his eyes looking her up down since he walked in the studio. Y/N sat back down quickly and turned to Jungkook and forced a smile. “ It’s your turn! while you record it have to go speak with Tim about what to do next. i’ll Play the track when you are ready.” He watched her lips move, oh how he wanted to kiss them.

Jungkook snapped out of his trance and stood up entering the recording booth and sliding on the headphones. He loved the smell of the booth, it smelled just like you. your scent. Y/N put her thumb up and pressed play and didn’t even wait for him to start singing. She got up and left the room closing the door and taking a deep breath putting her head on the door. “ What the fuck was that?” you mumbled.

“What was what?” Tim spoke which made you jump harshly. “ FUCK! Tim don’t do that shit!”

“ I.. are you okay? you seem kinda scared. what’s wrong?” Tim read your face and just knew that you were upset, frightened even. “ Tim, there is something extremely wrong with… him.” she whispered while looking around. “ Him? Mr. Jeon? what do you mean? he seemed fine when i left.” He raises his eyebrow. “ Maybe you’re just nervous, Honey.”

While Y/N was in the hallway, Jungkook was done singing his lines and exited the booth, smiling. He wanted to impress Y/N with his beautiful vocals. “ That was… Y/N?” he said looking around the room, not seeing his girl in the chair. He calmed down and remembered that she had to do something. ‘Good, she didn’t run away.’

Jungkook sat down and waited for her.

10 minutes…

20 minutes…

25 minutes…

Finally, the door opened and walked Y/N with some refreshments. “ Sorry, the internet was a little slow.” she sits down and avoids his hand that he held out for the water bottle and placed it on the table. “ Let’s finish this for now so you can get going i’m sure you are very busy.” she said as she saved and downloaded both their vocals onto her flash drive.

“ Can i be honest with you, Y/N?” Jungkook asked while staring at the computer. She turned to look at him and then back at the computer, closing it. “ Yeah, of course.” she scooted back a bit to just give space. she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“ Im really… a huge fan of yours. I love everything you do..” he started. “ the feeling is mutual, Kook.” she commented and smiled. “ No, not in that light… Ever since i found your videos back in 2019, when you first started. I instantly felt this this connection. Like we belong together. I started liking your photos and videos everywhere and then i found out that you do music.. i just fell more in love with you.” As he confessed he was doing this weird smile like, he enjoyed telling Y/N his confession. “ Im in love with you.” he ended. Y/N was taken back. Her feeling wasn’t wrong. There is definitely something not right about him. this was it.

“ Oh, that’s so sweet! I appreciate it, Jungkook.. but i don’t know what you want from me after telling me that, I.. I feel as though maybe we just keep it professional. just two artists being friends yeah?” Y/N stood up and began to pack her things up. Jungkook felt something click in his head. Like a switch turned off. “ I don’t… i dont understand… You don’t… love me back?” he asked also standing up. “ Be friends?… what do you take me as? Do you like toying with me?”

“ What? Jungkook that’s not… i never did that.” Y/N answered confused. “ Oh baby don’t be confused. You said all those times you love me. You even twitted the feeling is mutual.” He stepped toward Y/N corning her between the table and his tall stature.

Y/N turned around slowly, “Listen, i didn’t mean it like that. And if you are going to talk to me, please give me some space.” He looked in your eyes and chuckled lightly. “ Why would we need space… i finally have you this close to me… i’m not letting it go.” He gently took the hair that was falling in front of your face and pushed it behind your ear. You leaned away from the touch and pushed him with all your strength. He moved back enough for you to get to the door with your bag and open it. You flew out the room the last thing you heard was Jungkook humming.

You walked- no you ran through the car lot looking for your car, all of sudden not being able to remember where you parked this morning. You stopped to catch your breath and smiled once you saw your car.

You pressed the unlock button and quite literally jumped in your car and locked the doors. You put your hand on the steering wheel and just thought about what all happened. Jeon Jungkook just admitted to being madly in love with you. You should be happy, right? You are terrified. He stalked you basically your entire career and has been in love with you since you started your career. You can’t be happy after hearing that.

You got it together and grabbed your car keys and put it in the ignition, starting your car and driving home.

You should really check your back seats more..

You happily went inside your apartment and instantly took a shower. You didn’t forget about what happened the few hours before but the shower just eased your mind.

Once you got out and got dressed, the pitch blackness of your bedroom comforted you usually, But it made you uneasy. As it should.

You got in bed and sleep quickly took over you but not enough, as you awoke to hearing your bed room door creak close. You were scared shitless to even get up, fear making your body go numb. You heard that same melody again, that now cursed melody of Still With You. Jungkook was humming it before you ran out.

‘oh my…’ you mouthed as you felt the bed dip and someone get under the covers with you and slowly wrap their arms around you.

“ Good Night, Baby~. Tomorrow is a big day for us. Our new beginning.” Jungkook whispered into your ear and kissed your neck softly before sighing and singing you to sleep. That same cursed song…

“언제쯤일까 다시 그댈 마주한다면

When will I face you again?

눈을 보고 말할래요

I want to look you in the eye and tell you

"보고 싶었어요"

"I missed you"

#bts jung jungkook #jk x reader #fem!reader #bts #jungkook #bts fic #yandere!jungkook #bts yandere #jeon jungkook

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thisismeracing · 6 months

Text

King of my heart | extras | Mick and Yn create a playlist together

― Summary: Yn and Mick are still threading through their feelings, none of them yet aware of how deep it is. Some say that actions speak louder than words, but guess songs do too sometimes. ― Word count: 1.3k ― A/n: This can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s better when you’ve read the series. ― Warnings: mention of food; tooth aching fluff.

✷ see my main masterlist | patreon masterlist | KOMH Masterlist ✷ wanna be tagged on my works? check my taglist ✷ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

“I created the playlist,” Yn shares once she finds Mick in the garage. It’s close to lunchtime, and some of the crew are already leaving to eat at the paddock cafeteria. George is pointing something to Mick on the computer to which he simply nods before turning to Yn. “I just sent you the Spotify link,” she adds.

His eyes take her in and he nods again. He wants to say a lot of things, how beautiful she looks, how he missed her the whole morning, how boring it felt without her laugh, how happy he is that she created the playlist, that way he’ll have yet another excuse to text her, but he just nods. A lot of the things that are going through Mick’s mind are making him choose to keep his lips sealed. He knows each little thing can and will be pointed to by his friends as catching feelings.

The worst thing is that he believes that maybe it is true.

Maybe he is falling for Yn.

His friend’s sister.

His co-worker's sister.

“What playlist?” George asks, poking his head in their direction and Yn rolls her eyes playfully.

“It’s nothing, you’re a driver, not a reporter, you don’t need to know everything,” her retort makes Mick throw his head back in laughter and even Russell himself can’t contain the snicker.

“You’ve been walking too much with Lando, you’re getting sassier,” the British points while taking off the headphones from around his neck.

“As it happens, I’ve actually been walking a lot with you, George.”

Mick snickers watching the whole interaction the way you watch a tennis match, head going from one side to the other to catch the faces the duo is making.

“Anyways, I gotta go have lunch, you two have fun,” Russell patted Yn’s and Mick’s back before leaving them alone in front of the computer.

“Are you having lunch in the cafeteria with everyone?” he asks but what he really wants to say is: would you like to have lunch with me?

Yn shakes her head, “I ordered lunch.”

“Oh-”

She adds before Mick can say something else, “I ordered two…you said you wanted to try that salad last time, and I thought-”

“Awesome! So we go through the songs while we eat lunch,” Mick has a small smile on his pink lips, whereas he’s jumping up and down inside.

Yn nodded, starting the track to one of the meeting rooms she used to work while in the garage. Mick is right behind her, and the silence until they reach the door is peaceful. Yn left the package by the table along with two bottles of water, but they settled on the couch sitting in front of each other. Shoes discarded on the ground, legs crossed.

“I already added one song, I’m sorry,” Yn starts and Mick nods, silently asking her to continue. “Die Hard, by Kendrick Lamar.”

“This song is amazing!”

“Do you like it?” Yn asks, smile wider this time, and Mick nods.

“Can I add Lost by Frank Ocean?” the blonde asks and Yn jumps up and down while still sitting.

“Yes!! Absolutely!!”

She digs her fork into the food before taking a bite. Mick sips his water, and then asks, “So, you add one I add one? And we only add the ones we agree on or? How’s this gonna work?”

“I think we can make a mix, no need to agree, we will listen to everything afterwards and then we can talk about the ones we never heard before… that is if you agree.”

“Well, I’ve never made a shared playlist like this before, so yeah, I agree.”

Yn smiles, “I do them all the time with Lewis, he hasn’t surrendered to Taylor Swift quite yet, but I always try,” Mick chuckles. “Anyways, I think we should add some classics like It Wasn’t Me, we were listening to it that day in the car, you remember?”

“Yeah, you sang that Mick song too.”

“Oh, Mick, you’re so fine, so fine you blow my mind,” she sang teasing him and the German rolled his eyes playfully, a flush creeping from his neck to his ears.

“Does she actually sing Mick?” he’s truly curious.

Yn shakes her head, “But I do,” the way she winks at him makes his stomach roll and feel cold in a strange yet good way. “She sings Mickey, but I think Mick fits better, don’t you think?”

Mick is at a loss for words, so he chooses to stuff his mouth with lettuce and shrug instead of answering. How could he answer? Were they flirting? What the hell was this feeling in his stomach?

“I propose we add the songs and go through it in real-time. Open the app there,” she points to his cell phone and Mick does as she says.

“You just added Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls,” he states and taps his fingers on the screen adding Tennessee Whiskey, watching Yn as she furrows her brows.

“I’ve never heard this one.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know much about Country music,” she confesses.

“I’ll add my favorite ones for you.”

Yn smiles at him.

They go about eating and adding songs to the playlist. There’s a smile and a giggle here and there, sometimes laughter, and frowns with the unknown songs.

Yn is sipping her water and looking at the phone, when she sees a new song pop on the list, “What does ‘schön’ mean?”

“I’m adding some German songs for you,” Mick explains, but Yn is not satisfied with the simple answer.

“‘Mkey, how do you say this?”

“Sch-ön,” he slowly mouths and she giggles.

“With kissy lips?” Mick nods. “Man, you Germans are kinda cute. You make kissy faces every time there’s a word with this thingy?”

“Umlaut,” he explains, holding back a chuckle. “And yeah, kinda.”

“So…what is this song about?” Yn asks, hitting play.

Mick watches as Yn bops her head to the rhythm, a grin on her plush lips and her eyes closed.

Du bist schön und es macht Spaß, dich anzuseh'n

(So schön)

Du bist schön und meine Augen sind verwöhnt

(Verwöhnt)

Du bist schön, uh, du bist schön

“What is he saying, Mouse?”

“You are beautiful, and fun to look at. You are beautiful and my eyes are… spoiled,” he tries to focus on the lyrics, but the second her eyes open and they find each other the song becomes mere background noise. “You’re beautiful,” this time his voice is a bit softer.

“Did he sing that again?”

Mick shakes his head, notices what he just did, and then nods.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s a simple song, it’s a good choice if you want to start learning some words in German.”

They go about adding songs in silence again, until Yn jumps from the couch hitting play on yet another song, “Oooh, this one’s good, you’ll like it!”

“Taylor Swift?”

“You were able to identify, that’s a good start. Yes. This one’s called Karma, it totally has your energy, Mouse.”

Mick furrows his brows in confusion and Yn starts walking around the room while explaining to him the story behind the music which took them over twenty minutes, but the Schumacher wasn’t bored, quite the opposite, he listened to everything, asking one question here and there, and chuckling at her enthusiasm.

It’s only when Lewis texts Mick telling him lunchtime is over that they wrap up their conversation, agreeing on adding songs to the playlist whenever they find something the other might like or should see.

“Thanks for lunch. Guess I owe you dinner now, huh?”

Yn sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, and Mick’s eyes drop slightly following the motion.

“Yup,” she nods. “See you in a few, Mouse.”

And when the door closes behind the blond Yn sighs. Her brother would have to forgive her. Not liking Mick was getting harder and harder.

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luminnara · 2 years

Text

Cherry Bomb | Billy Hargrove x reader

The reader gives Billy a run for his money

Aka you’re loud and tough and have a cool car and for Billy that means love at first sight. I might have written him too sweet here but idc, this was supposed to just be a short little thing and then it took on a life of its own and here we are. Sorta follows the start of season 2 but then does its own thing lol

Masterlist

Requests are open!

PART TWO

Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, f slur/homophobia (thanks neil)

Tags: @smenny @infinitelyforgotten

Billy Hargrove hated this fucking town.

He hadn’t even been at the new house for a full week yet, and he hated it and everything around it. Hawkins was a little shithole, as far as he was concerned, full of hicks who couldn’t tell their left asscheek from their right. And the worst part? It was October, and it didn’t even look cool outside.

God, he wanted to go back to California. At least it was sunny there. At least he had the beach. This place was just gloomy and beige, the townspeople all boring and normal. Nice, conservative families, who dressed in nice, conservative clothes, and drove nice, conservative cars.

That really wasn’t Billy’s scene.

At all.

When he drove to Hawkins High one gray morning, he made sure he made a fucking spectacle of himself. He had managed to toss Max in the car before Neil was awake to start yelling and then tossed her back out in the middle school lot before tearing away again. His stepsister wasn’t about to cramp his style, not when he needed to size up the locals.

He had his stereo blaring a Scorpions casette, he had his favorite denim jacket, and he had half a pack of cigarettes left. His jeans were tight. His hair looked good. And he knew his Camaro was the sexiest car in town.

Because how could it not be? Everybody else drove pickups or ugly sedans. He hasn’t seen or heard a single engine that rivaled his, and that stroked his ego a little bit. At least he could become the king of Hawkins, Indiana while he was stuck there. At least he could get the attention he knew he never got at home.

He could see everyone staring curiously as he pulled into the parking lot. Girls—and guys—were craning their necks to see who was driving this unfamiliar car, and when he got out and grabbed a cigarette to light, he spotted a group of girls who were absolutely swooning. He glanced over them and then looked away again, surveying the rest of the student body while he still had the chance to enjoy the fresh, stinking air. Those girls would be all over him, desperate to use him to get back at their parents. He knew they’d all wanna get with the bad boy from out of town. They’d be good for a quick hookup and then they’d either wander off after their great conquest or he’d get bored and move on to the next one, never giving himself the opportunity to stop and wonder how bad it was for his mental health.

Oh well. It gave him something to do, at least. And he was good with girls, and he liked the attention, never mind that it was hollow and performative and none of them would ever actually care about him. It’s not like he was expecting anybody in this backwater little town to give a shit, anyways.

They were all whispering and giggling, the guys sizing him up. He definitely stood out, with his earring and mullet and denim on denim getup. They were all the picture of small town midwestern America, the fashionable ones all looking perfectly respectable and the less fashionable ones looking fine. There wasn’t much in the way of diversity.

It was boring as shit.

He resisted the urge to stomp out his cigarette in irritation. He also resisted the urge to get back in his car and get the hell out of there. He wanted to be anywhere else at that moment, literally anywhere would be better than—

The sound of an engine pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned towards the street.

He was not expecting what he saw.

Because how could he possibly have expected that?

A bright orange muscle car—shit, was that seriously a cuda??—whipped around the corner, narrowly missing a guy on his bike. The windows were down, Sammy Hagar was blasting, and Billy suddenly felt like he was being challenged. As much as he wanted to appreciate this car, whoever the fuck was driving it was seriously pissing him off just by existing, and when they had the nerve to park right next to him, he wanted to explode.

Who the hell did this guy think he was?

Billy puffed his chest out and straightened his shoulders. He was a fairly broad guy, and he knew how to use that to his advantage. He was ready to start a fight just to prove that he couldn’t be fucked with…but then the driver got out, and all he could do was stare.

What the hell was a girl doing with a car like that?

“Hey.” You said as you climbed out, shoving your aviators up onto your head to look at the new guy. “You parked in my spot. I don’t like that.”

He immediately sneered at you. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t see your name on it.”

“Don’t have to. Everybody knows it’s mine.” You said coldly. Then you paused as you looked him over. He didn’t look too bad…but you knew his type. You had to put him in his place before he got too cocky with you. “You’re new, so I won’t make you move today. Consider it like a welcoming gift.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. You were bold. At least there was one interesting person in Hawkins.

“Nice car.” And with that, you turned away, and Billy watched your ass as you went.

———————

You tried not to think too much about the new guy, but that proved difficult when everyone else was talking about him. You were unlucky enough to have a locker close to Vicki’s, and when you approached it before lunch, you found that she, Carol, and Tina were blocking it as they talked.

“—I mean, did you see his ass?” Carol asked in a comically loud whisper.

“I heard his name’s Billy Hargrove,” Vicki said. “He just moved from California.”

Great. At least you knew his name now, for when you inevitably ran into him again. It really wasn’t that you didn’t like him—on the contrary, you were interested. Very interested. You liked his looks. You liked his car. You could guess that you had at least a few common interests. You just didn’t want to deal with him being a complete ass to you, not that it was anything you couldn’t handle, having grown up with three older brothers.

And you also didn’t want to deal with girls like Carol and Vicki and Tina, who did their best to bully you and grew increasingly frustrated when their insults seemed to roll off of you like water off a duck’s back.

“Move,” you grunted at them.

They paused their conversation, looking you up and down with disgusted expressions.

“Oh.” Carol said, wrinkling her nose. “It’s you.”

“It’s me, and this is my locker,” you growled. “Move.”

She did, but not without a loud scoff. “Freak.”

Water off a duck’s back.

You sat alone at lunch, waving at Robin but ultimately deciding to fly solo. All you had was a sandwich, anyways. You were planning on sneaking out for some fresh air if you could, maybe taking a power nap in the car—

“This table have your name on it, too?” A familiar voice sneered.

You looked up to see Billy Hargrove standing there, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, no food in sight.

“It does,” you said, watching as he took that as an invitation to sit down across from you.

You could already feel the girls glaring daggers at you.

“I’m not sure you understand the concept of what I’ve been trying to tell you,” you growled, putting your sandwich down. “This is my spot. Now you’ve taken both my parking space, and my lunch table.”

“Don’t care.” He put his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his hands as he looked at you. “Name’s Billy.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Your admirers won’t shut up about you.” You tossed your head in Carol’s direction. “Why don’t you go sit with them?”

“No room,” he shrugged. “Besides, I figured I’d come introduce myself.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

He sighed and put his hands on the table as he straightened up. “Because nobody else in this stupid fucking town has a car like mine…besides you.”

You wanted to laugh. Not at him, but at how honestly cute he was being. “You like it?”

“Where the hell did you get a Barracuda around here?”

“Guess you underestimated this stupid fucking town, huh?” You grabbed your sandwich again.

Before you could enjoy it, though, Billy had snatched it out of your hands and taken a bite, staring you down. Daring you to do something about it. But you were determined not to react, because you knew his type…and you knew he was trying to get a rise out of you.

You also knew that he didn’t have any food on him and hadn’t tried to get any, and you felt like maybe he could appreciate half a sandwich more than you could.

“Who’d you get it from?” He asked through a mouthful of food.

“It was a gift.”

“Don’t tell me you’re some stuck up rich bitch who just gets cars as presents every year,” he scoffed, seeming genuinely offended.

You rolled your eyes. “No, it was my mother’s.”

His eyes nearly popped out of his skull and you actually did laugh that time.

“No fucking way,” he said. “Women don’t drive cars like that.”

“She did.” You shrugged, using every skill you had ever gained from dealing with your brothers to not jump across the table and strangle him.

At the use of the past tense, you saw him hesitate for a moment. “She dead?”

“No,” you shook your head. “But she can’t drive anymore. The boys all had their own rides by the time she had to quit, and she’d never sell it…so I got it.”

“Big car family, huh?” He asked, almost seeming like he was warming up to you.

“My dad owns the mechanic shop here in town.”

You saw Billy really perk up at that one. “You know, I never did catch your name, sweetheart.”

You offered him a sickly sweet smile as you stood, stepping away from the table and patting him on the shoulder before you left. “Maybe next time, handsome.”

He stared after you as you walked away from him for the second time that day, knowing that not only did he have to talk to you on a regular basis now, but also that he would already do just about anything for you.

—————-

You left school without any further Billy incidents. You half expected him to catch up and try to race you or something, but your drive back home was peaceful—or as peaceful as it could be with the way you drove on Hawkins’ quiet roads—and completely uneventful.

Your family lived in a cozy old house situated right next to the shop, and as you pulled up, you saw that your dad and brothers were working.

“You better not let Mom see the way you drive that thing,” Danny yelled as you approached the garage.

“Don’t let your old man see, either.” Your father grunted, wiping his hands off with a rag before tucking it back into his pocket. “Good day at school?”

“It was fine.” You shrugged, leaning on a car. “There’s a new guy.”

“Family moved in on Cherry Lane,” your second brother, Curt, called from beneath a car as he worked on it. “The mom was in this morning. Said she’s got a daughter and a stepson and a husband named Neil.”

“I met the son,” you said.

“How was he?” Your father asked absentmindedly as he walked to the desk to pull out a logbook and scribble in it.

“An asshole.”

“Language,” he growled out of habit, not bothering to look up.

“A jerk,” you corrected yourself.

“Better.”

You heard the sound of wheels against the cement as Curt pushed himself out from under the car. “We need to have a talk with him?”

“No, I can handle it.” You snorted a laugh. “He drives a Camaro, you know.”

“Damn, really?” Danny asked. “And here I thought the ‘Cuda would always be the nicest car in town…”

“It still is!” You argued.

“Get him to bring it in and we’ll see.”

You rolled your eyes. The concept of Billy fucking Hargrove coming into the shop wasn’t one you felt like visiting quite yet, even though you figured it would be inevitable. If not for service, since he seemed the type to try to do everything on his own, then for parts. You knew the boys—and your dad—would appreciate the Camaro, but you had your doubts about how much they’d appreciate its driver.

“Maybe,” you grumbled, tightening your grip on your backpack strap and heading across the lot towards the house.

“Hey, sweetie,” your mom called as you entered the kitchen through the back door. “How was school?”

“There was a new guy and he took my parking space.” You grumbled, plopping down at the table across from her.

“Did you give him a piece of your mind?” She laughed.

“Sort of.” You paused. “He likes the Cuda.”

“Then he has good taste,” she smiled.

“He said women don’t drive cars like that.” You grumbled.

“Then, unfortunately, he’s a man,” she snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Your father was like that when I met him…’til I finally got him to race me, and I smoked him.”

You grinned. You’d heard this story dozens of times, but it had always been one of your favorites.

“Of course, that was what…fifty nine?” She laughed. “Sure didn’t have the Barracuda back then.”

“So what’s the moral here?” You asked. “I should race him and then when the Camaro can’t keep up he admits he was wrong?”

“Camaro? At least he really does have nice taste. What’s his name?”

“Billy,” you sighed, laying your chin on your arms. “Billy Hargrove.”

———————

The next morning, you were running late. You were never one to show up particularly early, but you had a feeling that if you didn’t make it before Billy showed up, your parking spot was in jeopardy. Sure enough, when you pulled in, the Camaro was already there, and your mood was quickly souring.

“Billy Hargrove, get out of my spot!” You yelled over the sound of Iron Maiden.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he smirked, leaning up against his car.

“Move!”

He looked around. “The only other free spot is this one right next to me. Not sure what the point would be.”

Oh, he was definitely just trying to get under your skin.

You let out a loud noise of disgust and pulled into the space anyways. When you got out, slammed the door, and marched away without another word, Billy just watched you go, grinning to himself like a madman. He had been thinking about you all night, and not even in a dirty way--okay yeah, that was involved, too, but not exclusively--and he had actually been eager to head to Hawkins High just because he knew he’d be able to see you.

He’d never felt this way before, and he really wasn’t sure what to do about it besides keep bugging you. He had already asked around and gotten your name—as well as the numbers of about six different girls—and judging by the way the others talked about you, you weren’t all that popular. On the one hand, he could see why; you were loud and liked to give everybody the finger, just like him. On the other hand…well, you were just like him, and as far as he was concerned, that was fun.

He wanted to get to know you better. He wanted to do more than just give you a ride and try to get as handsy as you’d let him. He was curious about you, and he wanted to get you to like him enough to actually have a real conversation.

You spent the next few days trying not to give him too much attention, but he was always there. He always parked in your spot, because apparently, it was his spot now, and your spot was right next to him. He always sat across from you at lunch, and after the third day, you started bringing extra snacks. Not for him, but because you knew he never brought anything for himself and if he had his way he would eat all of your food.

“Why don’t you ever bring your own lunch?” you huffed on day five.

“Didn’t have time to stop at the store this morning,” he shrugged as he tore through a bag of chips you had thrown at him.

“You outta food at home or something?” you asked. You were just glad he was leaving your sandwich alone so you could actually enjoy it for yourself.

“No,” he snarled with a little too much oomph.

You stared at him for a long moment but kept your mouth shut. You could tell you’d somehow hit a nerve, and it seemed that Billy Hargrove, the obnoxious, attention-seeking bad boy, was a little more complex than you had initially thought.

He was silent after that, looking pissed off as he ate. The problem wasn’t that they didn’t have food. Sure, they didn’t have nice three course meals for dinner every night, but they had food. The real problem was that his father called him a pussy anytime he did something as simple as make himself a sandwich, because Neil called that women’s work, and Susan was usually gone for work by the time Billy was getting up for school. And it’s not like Max was gonna make him anything when she hated his fucking guts. So, basically, he was relying on you to give him your scraps at this point, even though he refused to tell you and look like the weakling his father always told him he was.

You spent the rest of the day wondering about it. The tone in his voice when he gave you that no had been angry and defensive, and he was definitely upset about your question for a reason. You figured something had to be going on at home, but you had no idea what that might be, and you weren’t about to push him when he obviously didn’t wanna talk about it.

So you didn’t bring it up again, but you did start bringing more snacks.

As much as Billy annoyed you, you had to admit he brightened your days a little bit. Okay, a lot a bit. You found yourself enjoying the way he shamelessly flirted and all the stupid pet names he gave you, and you started seeking him out for a change. He was a complete dick to everyone else, but with you? With you, he was actually halfway decent. He even carried a textbook for you one time.

You liked it. And, as always, the sneers and glares from Carol and her friends hardly bothered you.

“Slut.” Vicki said as she passed you in the locker room.

“The mirror’s over there, Vick.” you said as you pulled your gym uniform on.

You heard her scoff before someone shoved you forward into your locker. When you turned, you saw Carol standing there with her arms folded over her chest, a nasty smile on her face.

“Okay, what is it this time?” you asked, pulling your shirt down and squaring up with her.

“I just don’t see why he hangs around you.” she said.

“Who?”

“Hargrove,” she hissed. “Duh.”

“You already have a boyfriend, Carol.” you rolled your eyes, sitting down to pull your gym shoes on. Three older brothers and a childhood full of schoolyard fist fights meant that there was nothing Carol could do to scare you...especially because you had gym with her, and you knew she couldn’t pack much of a punch.

“Just stay away from him!” Tina snapped.

“Why?”

“Because he’s ours!”

You glanced up at her. “I don’t exactly control him, you know. He does what he wants.” You stood and turned away, then paused and looked back at them. “And who he wants.”

They stared at you, their jaws dropped in shock. You just shrugged and walked away, heading out of the locker room and up to the gym. Would you regret starting a rumor about yourself? Probably, but it was worth it for the look on their faces. Plus...you wanted them to stay away from Billy. You told yourself it was because they were just annoying and you were saving him the headache, but there was a little bubble of jealousy you kept trying to push back down. You didn’t want them to go after Billy, because over the past week, you had grown so used to him bugging you that you had begun liking him.

And you didn’t want to think about that.

At least you had gym, right? It would be a perfect distraction, and if push came to shove, you could probably find a way to hit Carol with a dodgeball or something. You wouldn’t have to think about Billy Hargrove and whether or not you liked him at all, because for the next hour or so, you had nothing but physical exertion to focus on, and no boys would be around to--

You stopped dead in your tracks.

The boys were inside playing basketball, and unfortunately, it was shirts versus skins…and extra unfortunately, Billy was on the skins team.

And he looked good.

He was absolutely destroying the other team, and when he got the ball from a frustrated Steve Harrington and made a basket, you found yourself biting your lower lip. Billy was glistening with sweat in a way that was so sexy you thought it should be impossible, and for a guy who smoked so much, he seemed totally athletic. At least he could back up that macho man attitude he always put on.

“Oh my god,” someone whispered from behind you.

“He’s totally better than Steve Harrington…”

“He’s hotter, too!”

You glanced back to see most of the girls from your class had all clustered in the doorway, their eyes all glued to Billy. That jealousy rose in your chest a little, and you had to face forward again before you said something else you’d regret.

When you looked at him again, you caught Billy’s gaze, and a blush spread across your cheeks. He gave you a nod and a smirk, and—had his eyes always been that nice? No way, right?—and he actually winked. He winked at you before jogging off to join the rest of the guys at the other end of the court.

The girls erupted in excited whispers as everyone insisted that he had winked at them, but you were too shocked to say anything.

“Ladies,” the PE teacher growled from the sidelines. “We’re outside today. Chop chop.”

You tore yourself away, following the others in a daze. How had this happened? Just a week ago, you had been totally annoyed by this guy, and now, you couldn’t stop thinking about his abs. You didn’t want to stop thinking about his abs.

He didn’t want you to stop thinking about them, either.

When he saw the way you stood there and stared, Billy finally knew for sure that you were into him, and it made him happy. It also made him happy to know that you had seen him beating Harrington, and as all the other guys congratulated him on winning, he was busy running a hand through his hair and thinking about how he could spend more time with you.

At the end of the day, you walked out to the parking lot to find Billy leaning up against your car, a cigarette in his mouth. Your weird mood immediately soured, and you gave him an angry look as you stomped up to him.

“Off my car, Hargrove!” You barked.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He chuckled, puffing smoke in your face. “Afraid I’ll chip the paint?”

“Afraid you’ll get your sweaty hands all over it,” you snapped.

He grinned and leaned down, looking you in the eyes. “Thought you liked me all sweaty. Or was that some other girl eye-fucking me in the gym today?”

“That was definitely Carol,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the heat spreading across your cheeks. “I was busy watching Steve Harrington.”

Billy’s eyes darkened angrily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Now move.”

He took a step to the side, just far enough for you to open the door and toss your bag inside. “What’s Harrington got that I don’t?”

“What?” You asked, looking back at him.

“You heard me.” He said bitterly. “What’s that douchebag got going for him?”

“Billy, I was kidding.”

“…oh.” He furrowed his brow. “Yeah.”

“Steve is popular. I don’t really talk to anybody popular besides Carol and her friends, and that’s not exactly by choice.” You climbed into your car and Billy actually closed the door for you before leaning on the open window.

“Why not?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Don’t really get along with them.”

“Don’t you have any friends? You’re always all alone, doll.”

“I like Robin.”

“Who?”

“Yeah, alright. I gotta get home, Hargrove.” You turned the key in the ignition and the barracuda roared to life in a way that had Billy grinning again.

“This is a nice ass car, babe.” He said over the sound of the engine. “She suits ya.”

You had to smile at that. “Thanks, Billy.”

His heart warmed at the sight, and he decided he wanted to see you smile more often.

“You wanna go for a drive, sweetheart?” He asked, still leaning through the window.

“Don’t you usually pick your sister up after school?” You asked as you grabbed your sunglasses and put them on.

“She’s got a skateboard. She’ll just go to the arcade or something.”

You looked at him for a moment. “…alright, fuck it. Where you wanna drive, Hargrove?”

“I was hopin’ you’d lead the way, doll.”

“Then hurry up, because I don’t drive slow.”

You threw the car into reverse and he only had a second to jump back before you were peeling out. With a triumphant yell, Billy jumped into the Camaro and took off after you, tires squealing as he tore out of the parking lot.

You weren’t too bad at first, obeying all the basic things like stop signs and the concept of crosswalks. But as soon as you were on a two line highway outside of town, you opened it up, glancing at your rear view mirror every so often to see Billy grinning behind you as he kept up.

The cars were roaring, the road was empty, and soon, Billy had pulled into the other lane and was riding next to you…and something about it felt so fun and so right to be racing alongside him.

You led him down the highway a ways before hitting the breaks and turning onto a smaller road and he followed begrudgingly, a little pissed that he didn’t get to race you for real. When he saw your destination, though, his anger dissipated.

The lake was beautiful.

And you were beautiful, too.

He got out of his car to join you as you spread your jacket out on the ground and sat on it. When he sat down next to you, he realized how quiet it was, and for a moment, he just took it in. He wasn’t used to quiet. He wasn’t used to peace.

“I like to come out here this time of year,” you explained, looking at the water. “It gets busy sometimes when the weather is nicer, but come fall, there’s usually nobody around.”

“It’s nice,” Billy commented.

“You know, you almost kept up with me back there,” you teased, nodding towards the cars.

He scoffed. “I was going easy on you, baby.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“All these pet names. What’s the deal?”

“You don’t like em?” He asked, looking down at you as he leaned back on his hands.

“…I didn’t say that.”

His signature smirk returned. “They just suit you is all. ‘Specially Princess.”

“What?” You smacked his shoulder playfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He just laughed. “It just fits. You’re a princess with a pony car.”

“Muscle car.”

“Whatever you say.”

And you laughed, and it made him laugh, and you decided it was a nice sound coming from him.

“You’re not too bad, Billy Hargrove,” you said.

To him, that was practically a declaration of love.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, inching closer.

“Why aren’t you a jerk to me?”

The question caught him off guard. “…what?”

“You heard me.” You said, noticing the momentary vulnerability in his eyes. “For the past week I’ve been watching you hit on girls like Carol and tell Harrington to go fuck himself. The worst thing you do to me is eat my lunch and take my parking space. You’re practically a gentleman with me. What gives?”

Billy didn’t know what to say. He didn’t like feeling so exposed, because you were managing to strip away every single barrier he had put up to protect himself over the years. He wanted to clam up or tell you to fuck off, but when he looked down at you, he realized that he wanted to talk to you…and he’d never tell you to fuck off, because he never wanted you to leave.

And he didn’t want you to think he was just an asshole, because he wasn’t.

But he couldn’t possibly spill his guts to you.

“Guess I’m just sweet on you, babe.” He managed to say smoothly.

Your heart fluttered. “…are you?”

His heart fluttered, too. “Might be. What’s a guy gotta do to get a date with the hottest chick in Hawkins?”

You were full on blushing, and he thought that it was downright adorable. That was a sight he was used to—girls blushing because of his sweet talk. Normally, this would be when the clothes started coming off, but he was fine with talking, even though you drove him wild. He wanted to hear your voice, and he wanted to spend time with you, and he didn’t want to scare you off.

Meanwhile, your mind was racing. A date? With this asshole? Sure, you had grown used to him being around, but he was the type of guy to ask a girl out, fuck them, and then dump them again. You really didn’t feel like having your heart broken over some idiot like Billy Hargrove. But then again, you had three older brothers would make him regret ever speaking to you if he pissed you off, and you really did like him…

“Ask me,” you finally said.

He let out a tiny breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and gave you his best panty-dropping smile.

“…wanna go to Tina’s party together?” He asked.

You grinned. Tina would blow a gasket if she saw you walk in with Billy, and you’d pay good money to see how pissed off Carol got.

“I didn’t get an invitation,” you said.

“I did.” He shrugged.

Of course he did.

“Just come as my date, sweet cheeks. Unless you’re scared.”

“Scared?” You scoffed. “Of what? Bad beer and public make out sessions?”

“Didn’t know you were into those,” he smirked, leaning forward.

He was suddenly looming over you, and you couldn’t look away from his beautiful blue eyes and those dark lashes that framed them.

You swallowed hard. “I’m not.”

“No?” He asked, and you could feel his breath on your face.

“…maybe.”

“Maybe?” His smirk grew into a grin. “How ‘bout we find out?”

You wanted to kiss him.

You really, really did.

Fuck. How had this happened? You weren’t supposed to get a crush on the asshole new kid. You were supposed to put him in his place, get him to stop parking in your spot, and then maybe toss him a bag of chips or a cookie once in a while so he didn’t starve at lunch. That was it. So how had you managed to develop such a crush on Billy Hargrove?

You wanted to kiss him. You really did. But…you knew his type, and you didn’t want to become another one of his conquests. You didn’t want him to get in your pants and then move on to easier prey. You were sure he could just look at Vicki or Tina or Carol and they’d be on their knees ready to do anything he asked in a heartbeat, and you were also sure that it would absolutely kill you to watch.

But you really, really wanted to kiss him.

“Babe?” He asked impatiently, snapping his fingers in front of your face. “Eyes on me. C’mon.”

You focused on him again, mentally said fuck it, and grabbed him by the front of his jacket.

His eyes were wide with surprise as you yanked him down roughly. For a moment, he tensed, and his immediate reaction was to wrench himself backwards and out of your grip, because whenever someone came at him fast like that, it ended in bruises and split lips. But then, everything was still for a moment, and he was just staring into your eyes. He wasn’t used to girls initiating things. He wasn’t used to not being in complete control with them. But he found that he kinda liked it, especially when your lips met his in a kiss that felt all too sweet to be coming from someone who had just taken complete control so quickly.

But oh, did he love the feeling, and as you sat there at the edge of the lake, kissing Billy Hargrove, he decided that he never wanted it to end.

——————-

You crushed an empty beer can in your hand and tossed it away. The look on Tina and Carol’s faces had totally been worth showing up with Billy, even if you had lost him not five minutes later when one of the guys from the basketball team grabbed him and said something about a keg. Now, you had just finished your first beer, you were very skeptical of the weird punch bowl in the kitchen, and you were on the hunt for this keg and the idiot who was probably chugging from it.

You walked out into the yard and were immediately greeted by the sight of a crowd and the sound of chanting.

Yep.

This had to be it.

“Billy! Billy! Billy!“ the guys yelled over the sound of Motley Crue.

Yep. You found him.

You watched, mildly jealous that he had so much beer and you had just run out, as he finished the keg, threw his head back, and sprayed some in the air. The guys all erupted in cheers, Tommy H. loudly announcing that Hawkins had a brand new keg king.

A smile played at the edges of your lips. You were...proud, sort of? You knew the boys at Hawkins High took the whole keg king thing very seriously. In fact, before Steve Harrington had come along, your brother Curtis had carried the title, and you had helped Danny drag his drunken ass into the house on more than one late night occasion. Now, apparently, Billy was the new king, and even though his bare chest was covered in spilled beer, you thought the look and title suited him.

You didn’t think the stickiness would, though, and you were immediately reminded of all the showers you’d had to toss your brothers into after parties just like this one.

“Alright, keg king.” you said, pushing your way past a couple boys to stand before Billy. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

He was leaning against Tommy heavily, still trying to get his sea legs back. When he looked down at you with a lopsided grin, though, you could see that his eyes were still fairly focused, and when he spoke, he was pretty coherent. At least he could hold his alcohol.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, chest still heaving as he caught his breath.

“Hey, Billy.”

“Didja see me?”

“I did.” you laughed at the manic look on his face. “Very impressive, dethroning Harrington like that.”

“Harrington’s been a pussy ever since he started dating Nancy Wheeler,” Tommy sneered.

“That’s not very nice, Tommy.”

“What the hell are you doing here, anyways?” he scoffed. “No way you got invited. Fuck off.”

Ah, there it was. Tommy’s dazzling attitude. He had never liked you, because you had never put up with his bullshit—or Carol’s—and you generally tried to avoid him. Unfortunately, it seemed that he was practically gluing himself to Billy, and you’d been seeing him following the new boy around with the rest of the jocks lately.

“You fuck off,” you snapped at him.

“What the hell did you just say to me?”

“You heard the lady. Fuck off, Tommy,” Billy snarled, giving him a rough shove.

You were pretty sure you heard Carol gasp excitedly somewhere in the crowd.

“Yo, what gives, man?” Tommy asked as he stumbled back. “She’s a total freak. She shouldn’t even be here.”

You watched as Billy’s eyes narrowed, and all you could see in them was rage. He grabbed the front of Tommy’s Halloween costume and yanked him forward, and for a moment, you thought he was going to waste him right there.

“Don’t fucking talk to my girl like that.” Billy growled, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened.

“Your—what?” Tommy tried to glance at you but Billy grabbed his chin and held him in place.

“Understood?” He demanded.

“Y-yeah man,” Tommy stammered quickly, nodding his head.

“Good.” Billy let him go with another shove before turning to you. Then, as if to illustrate his point, he took your face in his hands and pulled you in for a hot, wild kiss that left your head spinning.

You could practically hear the shock on Carol, Tina, and Vicki’s faces.

“You were saying?” Billy asked casually, letting you go again.

You cleared your throat and steadied yourself again, taking in a breath to replace the one Billy had stolen.

“I was saying you’re covered in beer and you’re going to get sticky unless you wash it off,” you said, ignoring the stares everyone was now giving you. “Come on. You might even get to kick someone out of the bathroom mid-fuck if you’re lucky.”

He grinned at that and was immediately at your side, arm draped over your shoulders as he steered you towards the door. He was enjoying the party, you could tell; he loved all the attention he was getting, and he loved the free booze, even if it was shitty. He had already been crowned keg king, and the girls were all making bedroom eyes at him while their boyfriends tried to act tough enough to hang with him. But instead of paying attention to any of that, he was holding your hand like a lost kid at the fair, following you through the crowd obediently.

You spotted Nancy Wheeler drinking the questionable punch, and Steve Harrington looking distraught. Whether it was about her or the fact that he was quickly losing his seat as the most popular guy at Hawkins High, you didn’t know, but you tried to offer Nancy a concerned glance and received a confused look from Steve instead.

“Hey, don’t pay attention to him,” Billy grunted said you led him out of the kitchen. “Fuck that guy.”

“Alright, Billy. Whatever you say.”

“I mean—don’t fuck him,” he growled. “I’d kill him if he touched you.”

“How sweet.”

You could tell the massive amount of beer he has just consumed was starting to hit him when you glanced back to see a lazy smile on his face.

“Y’think so?” He asked.

“Yes, very sweet.” You stopped in front of the bathroom and banged your fist against the door. When no one answered, you tried the handle, finding it unlocked, and you shoved Billy inside.

“So rough, baby,” he smirked as you pulled the door shut. “If you wanted to get me alone, coulda just asked…”

“Hold still, Hargrove,” you mumbled, pulling one of the perfectly white hand towels off the rack and wetting it in the sink.

He leaned up against the counter in a way that you knew was premeditated, stretching his torso out and giving you the best view of his golden skin as possible. When you turned towards him, you paused for a moment, appreciating the sight before shaking your head and smoothing the towel down his chin and neck.

“Shit!” he hissed, jerking back. “Couldn’t’ve made it warm at least?”

“Come on, you big baby.” you laughed, scrubbing him clean.

“It’s cold.”

“Being cold is better than being covered in beer.”

He huffed indignantly but held still, stewing. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to someone trying to take care of him. The soft touches, the light laughs whenever he made a particularly grumpy face, the lack of blood and bruises and pain...it was new to him, after so many years of nothing but shouting and pain.

“There.” you said, wiping his chest off. “Better.”

He quirked an eyebrow as he looked down at you. You were standing between his legs, pressed right up against him, but there was no blush creeping across your cheeks as you checked your work.

“Y’know, this is usually the part where the chick is throwing herself at me.” he commented as you stepped away to wring the towel out in the sink.

“Oh yeah?” you asked.

When he didn’t give you another smooth reply, you glanced up at him. He was looking down at you almost thoughtfully, his eyes following your every move as you laid out the wet towel on the counter and turned to look at him properly.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He immediately scoffed. “Nothing.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He paused, then reached for you. You let him pull you to stand between his legs again, his hands moving to your waist. Instead of trying to kiss you, though, he spoke, and he asked you the last question you expected him to.

“Why’d he call you a freak?”

You were expecting something more flirtatious, some attempt at getting in your pants because you were together in a bathroom at a Halloween party and Billy was buzzed thanks to becoming keg king. You really didn’t think he cared about why Tommy H. and his clique thought about you, because why should he? Billy was already the coolest guy around, and he’d only been in town for a week. You didn’t really get why he was even into you, besides the fact that he liked your car.

“Why do you care?” you asked stubbornly.

He fixed you with a look that suggested he was just as stubborn as you were. “Tell me.”

“...Fine.” you sighed. “I dunno. They don’t like me because I don’t like any of them, and I’ve had a locker next to Vicki for years, so I’ve been dealing with them just as long.”

And a lot of their parents talked badly about your family even though they needed them to fix up their shitty stupid cars, and you’d been an absolute terror on the playground in elementary school, and your brothers had spent more nights at the sheriff's department than you could count and in a town like Hawkins that meant you were bad news.

“I’ll make them stop.”

“You really don’t need to, Billy.” you said. “I’m fine. And if I really needed help...well, I’ve got three big brothers.”

He snorted angrily, like a bull about to charge. He didn’t like that you were refusing his help. He wanted you to want his help, because he was offering it and he never offered it to anybody. Didn’t you realize how highly he thought of you, that he would stoop so low?

“Fine. Whatever.” he jumped off the counter and eased you back a few steps. “I need another beer.”

And then he was returning to the party, and you were left staring after him, wondering what the hell his deal was.

--------------

“My god, Billy,” you groaned. “Could you at least give me a little help here?”

He just grunted and tried to push you away, which decidedly did not make it any easier to get him out of the car.

“Quit!” you hissed, hauling him into the street and kicking the door shut behind him. “God, how are you so heavy?”

“M’ muscles, baby,” he slurred, his head lolling back as he licked his lips and grinned.

You wrinkled your nose. “You are so fucking drunk.”

“Yyyyeah....”

After he’d stormed out of the bathroom, you’d lost track of him for a while, choosing to wander and stop thinking about him for a while. Apparently, during that time, he’d won at least one other drinking contest, mixed up a bowl of something that was even worse than the weird punch, and by the time you found him again, he was completely sloshed.

Getting him into the Camaro had been decidedly easier than getting him out again was. He’d already puked on the grass at Tina’s once, and you hoped that meant that he had reached the stage where all he needed was a boatload of water and some good sleep.

Unfortunately, you didn’t actually know where on Cherry Lane he lived, and when you’d tried to ask, he had been vehemently against going back home. There were moments of clarity in his drunk eyes, but all you saw in them was absolute terror at the prospect of dropping him off at his place and then figuring out your own way back again.

“‘M not goin’ in there,” he said as you ducked under his arm and half-dragged him up the street towards your house. “He’ll kill me...”

You frowned. “Who?”

“M’old man,” he hiccupped.

Your frown deepened, but before you could try to get anything else out of him, you saw the front door open and you froze.

“What the hell is this?” your oldest brother, Kenny, asked, standing there with his arms folded over his chest and taking up the entire doorway.

“Just shut up and help me get him inside!” you hissed, trying and failing to drag Bill up the steps.

Your brother took in the sight and sighed. “You owe me, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid,” you grumbled as he joined you on Billy’s other side, hoisting him up easily and getting him up to the porch far more quickly than you’d ever be able to on your own.

“Why’d you bring him here?” he asked as you let go of Billy to close and lock the door.

“Because I don’t know which house is his, and he said his dad would kill him,” you said, following as your brother dumped Billy on the couch. He grunted and for a moment you were afraid the movement might make him sick, but he just rolled over, tucked his face up against the cushions, and immediately passed out.

Well, at least he was easy to put to sleep.

“...This that Hargrove guy?”

“Yeah.”

Kenny grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and threw it over Billy unceremoniously. “Go get him some water. He’ll be fine down here til morning.”

You sent your brother a silent thank you look before running to the kitchen. It wouldn’t be the first time a guy spent the night drunk on that couch after a party, and after seeing Billy in action, you doubted it would be the last.

“He’s the new keg king,” you commented when you came back and set a cup down on the coffee table.

“I thought that Harrington kid was?” your brother raised an eyebrow.

“Not anymore.” you looked at Billy almost fondly. It was a stupid title, keg king, but you were still a little proud of him.

You could tell that Kenny was the tiniest bit impressed, just as you’d hoped he’d be. He’d graduated from Hawkins High five years ago--and then Danny had, and then Curt, and now you were on your way--and he had been one of those guys who would yell and fight and drink more beer than humanly possible at house parties. Now, he was slightly calmer, but all three of your brothers still knew how to throw down. Actually, now that you thought about it, maybe you didn’t mind Billy’s antics and asshole attitude because it felt so familiar.

“Well. He’s lucky you brought him back here, because nobody else’s house is better at making hangover breakfast.” Kenny snorted, heading towards his room. Before he opened the door, however, he paused and fixed you with a glare. “And you better stay the fuck upstairs all night. No funny business.”

You felt your face heating up. “Kenny!”

“Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.” you grumbled, making for the stairs. “Don’t let him choke on his own puke in his sleep.”

Your brother rolled his eyes. “Goodnight, kiddo.”

“Night, Kenny.”

You trudged up the stairs and managed to take a shower before going to bed. You were fucking exhausted, but at least you were back home, and Billy wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere. The worn out old couch downstairs wasn’t the comfiest, but it was a perfectly good place to sober up. You just hoped he wouldn’t leave before you got the chance to check on him in the morning and get at least a shitty thank you for dragging his ass all the way there.

When Billy woke in a strange house, on a strange couch, he was more than a little freaked out. He couldn’t see the piles of trash that would indicate he was still at Tina’s, and he definitely wasn’t back at his place, because there was no way Neil wouldn’t have already beaten the tar out of him for sleeping on the couch.

He pushed himself up and immediately felt the familiar nausea and headache of a hangover. He could remember most of the night, right up until he had walked away from you. After that, everything was a blur, and he had no idea who had given him a ride, or if he had even gotten a ride, but he was at least a little glad that he didn’t seem to be covered in vomit or mud or anything that would indicate his night had gone worse than it did.

He downed the cup of water in front of him greedily and then put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. He felt like absolute shit, but it could be worse. It could always be worse. Now, he needed to find his keys, and his car, and then a bite to eat, and then he could spend the rest of the weekend making himself scarce in the hopes that Neil wouldn’t catch him.

...Fuck.

Neil.

Billys father would have definitely noticed he hadn’t come home by now, and he wasn’t going to be very friendly when he did. Billy wasn’t getting away without a good beating this time, that was for sure, and the thought made his throat tighten as anxiety rose in his chest. He had to get out of there, wherever there was, before anything happened.

He stood as quickly and as quietly as he could, noticing that his boots were still on. Had he just crawled into some random house and passed out on there couch? He wouldn’t put it past himself, honestly.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a feminine voice asked as he reached for the door.

He froze and turned. There, through the doorway to the kitchen, he could see a middle-aged woman sitting at a table, sipping from a mug as she watched him. Behind her, there was a big guy standing in front of a stove, cooking what smelled like bacon and eggs. At the sound of the woman’s voice, he looked back over his shoulder towards Billy, fixing him with a smirk.

“Glad you didn’t die in your sleep, keg king,” he mocked.

Billy immediately bristled. He didn’t know who this guy was, but he was asking for a fight if he thought he could just--

“Be nice, Danny,” the woman chuckled, taking another drink. “I can’t count the number of calls I used to get from Hopper to come grab you out of the drunk tank.”

The guy rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

The woman looked at Billy again and then gestured to the chair next to her. There was already an empty plate and silverware set out for him and a full glass of orange juice, but he didn’t move. This was way too strange.

“Come sit down, sweetheart.” she said. “You need to eat. Then you can run off.”

He didn’t budge. He didn’t trust this. Nice things like this didn’t happen to Billy Hargrove, and parents didn’t just sit there and not shout when they found out their kids got absolutely shitfaced the night before. He was too hungover to even manage that award-winning smolder he was so good at that always got all the moms going.

“Sit down,” Danny growled, setting a plate full of bacon down on the table.

Billy just raised his lip in a sneer.

Danny rolled his eyes before yelling towards the second floor. “Hey, shitheads! Breakfast!”

Billy heard thumping upstairs, two doors slamming open, and then something that sounded like a shoulder hitting a wall.

“Fuck off, Curt!” you shouted.

“Move, pipsqueak!” a guy yelled.

Billy turned in alarm to see another guy, this one more his age than the one in the kitchen, tearing down the stairs, with you hot on his heels. You were still in your pajamas, but you looked like you were in far better shape than Billy was...and suddenly, he started putting two and two together, and he realized exactly whose house he was in.

“Hey, you’re up!” you smiled at him.

“Outta the way, keg king,” Curt growled, shouldering past him.

“Be nice, Curtis.” your mom said.

“Come on.” you seized Billy’s arm, pulling him towards the table. “You have to eat before Curt gets it all, or else there won’t be anything left.”

Your brother was already chowing down, but he managed to fix you with a glare that you happily returned.

“I should go.” Billy mumbled, trying to pull out of your grip.

He underestimated how strong you were, though, because you just tightened your hold on him and dragged him towards the chair next to your mother. “No way. I didn’t go through all that trouble getting you back here last night for you to just leave without food.”

He made an irritated noise, but when both of your brothers and your mother glared at him, he sat down. There you were, feeding him, just like you did at lunch every day. When your mother smiled at the sight of him reaching forward and taking a piece of bacon--with his fingers, not a fork, something that would have earned him a sharp slap at home--he realized where you got it from.

Your family was way different from his.

“Honey, will you go get Kenny and your father?” Your mother asked, turning towards you. “They’re already out in the shop.”

“But I just sat d--”

“I’ll make sure your brother doesn’t eat all your food.”

“Fine.” you sighed, pushing your chair out and running out the back door.

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of bacon crunching, before one of your brothers spoke up.

“You like my sister, huh?” Curt growled.

“Fuck off,” Billy spat back.

“Ooh,” your brothers laughed, glad to finally get a reaction out of Hawkins’ new keg king. “Pretty boy here does talk.”

Billy shoved another strip of bacon into his mouth and sneered. “Shut the hell up.”

“Boys, don’t antagonize him when he’s not feeling well.” your mother said calmly, looking at her newspaper.

“Not our fault he can’t hold his liquor,” Curt said, leering at him from across the table.

Billy may have been exhausted with a splitting headache, but his temper was still there. He slammed his hands down on the table--your mother picked her mug up just in time to avoid any of her coffee spilling, as if she was very used to doing so--and leaned towards your brother, just about ready to grab him by the shirt and teach him a fucking lesson.

“Boys, no fighting at the table,” a gruff male voice said, and Billy immediately sat down as your father appeared.

Billy was waiting. Waiting for the shouting. Waiting for something along the lines of you fucking pussy, practically begging for table scraps, sitting there like some fucking faggot with no shirt on under your jacket and that stupid pretty boy earring. He was bracing himself for a fist in his face or hair. He was ready to be yanked from his chair and shoved into something. It’s what his old man would have done, so why shouldn’t yours?

You snuck around your dad and took your seat next to Billy, glancing at him. Everyone had noticed the sudden quiet that came the moment your father came in, and your mother gave you a knowing look, as if she recognized something you didn’t.

“I told you not to work before breakfast,” she chastised your father and older brother as they sat down. “Makes the whole kitchen smell like oil and grease.”

“Gotta finish that job for the Wheelers,” your father grunted, scooping a few helpings of scrambled eggs onto his plate. He took a drink and then finally seemed to notice Billy sitting there, looking sullen and hungover, avoiding eye contact as he crunched on bacon. “You the Hargrove boy?”

“Yessir.” Still no eye contact.

He realized too late that he hadn’t even looked up at your father, and once again, Billy was bracing himself.

“Bet you’ve seen better mornings.” Your father chuckled. “I like that Camaro. You bring that here all the way from California?”

You watched as Billy relaxed slightly, and he finally managed to look up at your father. You didn’t understand why he was so tense. He was practically afraid. Yeah, your dad could be stern when he wanted to—he had three sons within a fairly short time frame, of course he had perfected the tough dad routine—but he was never mean.

And then you remembered Billy’s drunken statement from the night before, about how his old man would kill him if he came stumbling home so late and so drunk, and realization dawned on you. At the time, you had thought he wasn’t serious. Tons of people said stuff like that, and they always meant that their parents would be seriously pissed off and they’d be grounded for a month. You were starting to get the feeling that maybe Billy’s dad wasn’t really the grounding type.

“I did, sir.” Billy said, some of that smooth façade crawling back into the picture.

“You take good care of it.” Your dad commented. “Kenny brought it into the garage first thing this morning and we popped the hood. Doesn’t even need a tune up.”

Billy puffed up a little and you had to resist the urge to laugh at him. It was actually cute watching him interact with people in a setting where there were no girls and no Tommy H. tripping over themselves to impress him.

“Thank you, sir.” Billy said.

You noticed how stiff and polite he was, and it bothered you. He said sir like he had to. It was more than just because he was talking to your father. It was as if he was afraid to fuck up, because he was afraid of what might happen if he stepped out of line.

Just like that day at lunch, you found yourself thinking about how there was so much more to Billy Hargrove than pretty eyes and a bad boy persona, and you felt like you were chipping away at the walls he had put up, slowly but surely.

---------

After he left your house, you didn’t see or hear from Billy for the rest of the weekend.

It worried you a little bit.

Thankfully, you had plenty of work to do, and your dad saw to it that you spent most of Saturday and Sunday helping in the shop. Less than thankfully, however, that meant dealing with an onslaught of questions from your brothers, all of whom had plenty to say about Billy Hargrove and why he’d better keep his mitts off their baby sister.

You could tell they actually liked him, though. By the end of breakfast, they’d actually almost been getting along, even Curtis. You knew it meant that you would be able to bring Billy over more often, and you hoped that he would actually accept the invitation now that he had gotten some free food and realized that they weren’t all going to beat the shit out of him.

On Monday, he wasn’t in your parking space, and that worried you a little more. You left it open for him, seeing as it had become his space, and tried to wait around...but when he still hadn’t shown up by the first bell, you gave up and went to class.

He finally appeared at lunch, leaning up against your locker in that way that made him look extra gorgeous. You had to admit, the guy knew how to work his angles, even in the shitty fluorescent lighting of the hallway.

“Hey, sweetheart.” he greeted.

“Careful, that’s Vicki’s locker,” you said dryly. “Might get her a little too worked up if you get your cologne all over it.”

He snorted a laugh. “You like it?”

“Your cologne?” you paused and leaned in. “...Yeah, it’s alright.”

“Just alright?” he taunted as you opened your locker.

“Yeah, you heard me.” you shoved your books at his chest for him to hold while you pulled out your lunch, and you saw the way he winced as they hit his ribs. “...Hey, you okay?”

He immediately bristled in that overly defensive way he always did. “I’m fine. You’re always so fucking worried about me, babe. It’s a bad look.”

“Whatever, Billy.” you rolled your eyes.

“What’s for lunch?”

“A sandwich you will not be sampling for me, and a sandwich you will be sampling for you. My mom insisted that I bring you one.”

When he was quiet, you glanced up and saw a strange, faraway look in his eyes. He almost looked emotional. You wanted to ask if he was okay again, but you knew the answer would be even more volatile this time, so you simply took your books from him, shoved them in your locker, and then slammed it shut.

He threw his arm around your shoulders as you walked to the cafeteria, seeming completely at ease and not at all bothered by the fact that absolutely everyone was staring at the two of you. You could see them all whispering, some trying to hide it behind their hands, others not bothering at all and just talking about you at a normal volume.

“Oh my god, are they seriously together?”

“What’s Hargrove want with her?”

“I thought he was into Carol. It’s what she’s been telling everyone.”

“Yo, Hargrove!” one voice called out over the others.

Suddenly, you were faced with Tommy H. and a few of his friends, guys from the basketball team who probably didn’t even know your name. They forced you to come to a halt, blocking the hallway as Tommy looked over your head to talk to Billy.

“We’re gonna scrimmage in the gym. You in?” he asked.

Billy offered him one of those smooth, nonchalant smiles. “Nah. Got plans.”

Tommy’s eyes slid down to you. “...Seriously, Billy?”

“I said I got plans,” Billy growled. “You got a problem with that?”

Tommy suddenly smirked. “Oh, I see. Not really my type, but let us know how it is, yeah?”

The rest of the guys chuckled, and you suddenly got the feeling that you were the butt of a joke. When you looked up at Billy, you saw that he was laughing along with them, in that fake way he always did with people at school. People he didn’t actually give a shit about.

People who weren’t you.

“Come on,” he muttered, nudging you around Tommy and urging you to walk forward.

“Do they really think we’re about to go fuck in your car?” You asked bluntly, glaring up at him. “And you didn’t correct them?”

“What d’you want me to say?” He asked angrily as he glanced down at you. “Just leave it, doll.”

“I don’t want to,” you grumbled, leaning into his side anyways. “I shoulda punched him…”

You didn’t get a chance to see the fond look Billy cast your way. Even though you were tucked right up against his bruised ribs, he loved having you there next to him, and he never wanted to let you go. He didn’t care what dickheads like Tommy H said, he was into you for more than just sex, though judging by that kiss by the lake, you’d probably be great in the sack. No, Billy legitimately enjoyed the time he was spending with you, even though he didn’t really know how to show it.

When you sat down for lunch and he still hadn’t brought up Friday night or the morning that followed it, you decided that you would have to be the one to breach the subject.

“My parents like you, y’know,” you said.

He raised a brow as he bit into the sandwich you’d brought for him. “They tell you that themselves?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Your family’s weird as hell.” He said bluntly, not caring how rude it sounded.

“What makes you say that?” You asked.

“Uh, they seriously don’t have a problem with drunk guys like me crashing on their couch?” He scoffed. “My—most parents would lose their fucking minds.”

“They kind of just…would rather somebody not end up on the side of the road somewhere,” you shrugged. “My brothers partied a lot when they were in school. Actually, our whole family has kind of a…reputation.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where everybody else’s parents talk shit, but they can’t be too mean to our faces because they need their cars fixed.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t care about reputation, then.”

You let out a loud laugh. “You? Not care about reputation? That’s rich.”

“What?” He asked, irritated. “I don’t. Not really. In fact, I—you know, I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“You don’t, but it might be kind of nice if you did,” you pointed out.

He gave you one of those angry snorts, the kind that he always paired with a disgusted grunt in the back of his throat, and it made you smile. At least Billy was back to normal after the weekend, even if that meant he was back to being a dick.

——————-

It was a night a few weeks later that you learned why he was such a dick.

A sound outside your window startled you, and when a second one followed, you decided to check it out. You turned the lamp on your bedside table on and slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, thankful for your carpeted floor and the way it muffled your footsteps. When you reached the window, you saw a familiar face, as Billy Hargrove was clinging to the side of your house.

“Oh my god,” you hissed, opening the window and grabbing a handful of his denim jacket to pull him in. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s fucking midnight or something—are you okay?”

He wasn’t.

He wasn’t okay.

You sat him down on the edge of your bed and he just stared down at the floor. His lip was split. He had a black eye. A nasty bruise was forming on his jaw. He looked like he had just coke from a fight, though you had no idea who he possibly could have been facing when word around school was that he had already beaten the absolute shit out of Steve Harrington.

“Billy, are you okay?” You asked when he didn’t answer.

This time, he gave a slow shake of his head, still refusing to look up at you.

“Hey,” you stepped between his legs and gently took his face in your hands, mindful of the bruises as you tilted his head up to look at you. “What happened?”

“…Neil.” He said. Somehow it was more to himself than to you.

For a moment, you had no idea who he was referring to. You wracked your brain trying to remember if you went to school with anybody named Neil, and you came up empty…until you realized that you had heard the name before, from your brother.

“…a daughter and a stepson and a husband named Neil.”

You suddenly felt sick to your stomach as all the pieces of the puzzle began falling together. Every time he winced when you shoved him too hard. The way he was so nervous at breakfast. His bad attitude. It was all starting to make sense, and you hated it.

“He isn’t here now,” you whispered, pulling Billy’s head to your chest in a hug. “He’s gone. You’re safe with me.”

That broke him. Because he knew he was safe with you. He always had been, from that very first day where you let him eat your sandwich at lunch.

You felt him shudder as a silent sob rolled through his body. You didn’t care if he cried on your pajamas. He needed it.

“Don’t tell,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against you. “Don’t you dare fucking tell anyone about this.”

“I won’t tell,” you murmured as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I promise.”

This time, you heard the sob that wracked him and it broke your heart.

“Wanna spend the night?” You asked.

“…not on that shitty couch.”

“In here. With me.”

He hesitated, then nodded, and a minute later, he was curled around you, breaking down, holding you tightly like you were the teddy bear his father had never let him have as a kid. You could feel the chain around his neck tickling your skin every so often, and it reminded you that it was Billy Hargrove whose chest you were pulled up into.

And nobody else’s.

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove #stranger things

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katnissdoesnotfollowback · 29 days

Note

Katniss feeling insecure one random afternoon after seeing Peeta interact with some pretty girlies and asking him later that night all quiet if he thinks she’s pretty 🥺

I meant for this to be funny and then it turned out... not funny. Oh well. Enjoy some post-Mockingjay not fluff but not really angst??? No warning tags on this one.

“Having an eye for beauty isn’t the same thing as a weakness,” Peeta points out. “Except possibly when it comes to you.” - Catching Fire, Chapter 15 “You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?” - Mockingjay, Chapter 16

It takes me longer than usual to finish trading with the new butcher. She’s originally from Ten and came here after marrying a soldier from Thirteen. She refused to live underground any longer and he tried living in Ten, but felt too exposed and jumpy in the flat plains of that district. Twelve was their compromise. But I haven’t had the chance to build the kind of rapport with her that I had with Rooba.

Rooba. I make a mental note to ask Peeta to draw her for the memory book tonight. We’ll both have memories of her that need to be recorded.

When I finish with the butcher, mostly satisfied with the cuts of deer meat and the coin I walk away with, I make my way over to the bakery. Usually I’d help Peeta close for the day. I got lucky catching the deer so close to the fence, but it still took time for me to bring back enough help to drag it to the butcher.

Surprisingly, there are still a handful of customers in the bakery. Unusual, this late in the day. I hasten my steps, thinking Peeta might want some help getting rid of the chatty customers, and seeing me after a hunt usually does the trick.

As I reach the window, though, I slow my pace. It’s not just any customers. It’s the Lassiter girls. They moved here after the war with their father, who used to be the head foreman at a perfume factory in District One. Apparently someone thought his skills would translate well to running a medicine factory, because that’s what his job here is. And his five daughters -- Neroli, Dior, Ambrette, Clary, and Opal -- aged twenty-four to sixteen, spaced two years apart down the line, are each just as beautiful as the last. Gossip holds that they each have a different mother, and while there’s been no confirmation from their father on that point, they’re each so strikingly different in looks and coloring that it wouldn’t surprise me.

They’re currently clustered near the counter, a bouquet of undoubtedly sweet smelling flowers. Their dresses a rainbow of eye-catching hues in expensive looking fabrics. All I can do is snort as I think of how dull and dingy their clothes would’ve been if they’d lived here when there was still a coal mine. But their hair, although different shades, all gleams in glossy waves and curls and curtains of shimmering silk in the bright lights of the bakery.

I hear Peeta’s laughter then, followed shortly by the twittering chorus of the Lassiter girls’ giggling. Ugh. They cannot be serious. Not my Peeta.

None of them are married yet, and there’ve already been several District Twelve men turned away from their front door step with dazed looks in their eyes, like they couldn’t believe they’d actually dared to propose to one of the Lassiter girls. And while this group ambush of my Peeta gives me an idea of what sort of partner they might be looking for, it’s unacceptable.

I push through the bakery door and attempt a smile. Neroli sees me first. The oldest, and by far the smartest of this bunch, our eyes meet and her lips curl in a smile. She’s dressed in a dark, forest green dress. Her dark, almost black hair swept to one side, into a long, sleek ponytail. There’s no denying that she’s stunning. Long, sooty black lashes frame her pale eyes that I’ve never been able to decide if they’re blue or gray. Some part of me knows that if I were somehow more beautiful, I might look like her.

Neroli glances at Peeta, then back at me. She inclines her head slightly towards me, and I’m not certain what she means until she speaks.

“Father will be wondering what’s keeping us,” she announces to her sisters. “Come on. Get your purchases and let’s leave these two turtle doves alone.”

She still pauses to say something to Peeta before she and her sisters clear out, but the glance she throws my way before shutting the door behind her makes me think that maybe Neroli and I might’ve been friends under different circumstances. When I finally manage to look at Peeta, he’s head down in the cases, cleaning them out.

“Lock the door for me? How was your day in the woods?”

“Not bad,” I tell him as I throw the bolt. “I got a deer.”

“That’s great!”

“Put this in the cold storage while I sweep?” I hand him the package from the butchers and he hands me a broom across the counter. It’s one of my usual chores and it isn’t long after that we’re headed home. But all through dinner, I can’t get the image of the flock of Lassiter girls twittering around him out of my head.

I distract myself after we clean up the kitchen with the memory book, telling Peeta about the deer today and how things went with the new butcher. We share a few memories of Rooba while he sketches her and I write them down in draft. We manage to finish her page and seal it into the book before it’s very late.

And while Peeta showers with me, and stands next to me while we brush our teeth and get ready for bed, he somehow feels distant. As I lay down and watch him as he carefully removes his prosthetic, I can’t help but think again about the Lassiter girls.

“Goodnight, my love,” he murmurs as he turns to me, slipping his legs under the covers and cupping my cheek in his palm before kissing my lips once, softly.

“Goodnight,” I respond and blink when he turns out the light and lays down.

But I can’t get comfortable. And behind my closed eyes, I see a still ravaged Peeta, the hijacking reversal barely even begun. His knuckles pale as he gripped the bedsheets beneath him and restraints holding him down, safely away from me.

“You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty.”

I huff out a heavy breath and jam the heels of my palms into my closed eyes, trying to push the image out of my brain. He’s laying right here beside me. He kissed me and called me his love just minutes ago. What Peeta and I have puts the stars in the sky and the poets’ words on the page to shame with its depth and significance. That’s far better than some superficial beauty.

And yet the words still slip past my lips.

“Peeta,” I whisper, and he hums in response so that I’m not sure if he’s fully awake or not. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

There’s a few seconds of silence and then I hear the sound of the sheets rustling as Peeta turns over to face me.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s just a question,” I say and smack my hands down onto the bed, right at my sides. They’re still clenched into fists and I try to hold back the sudden, ridiculous tears welling up in my eyes. Because his hesitancy to answer tells me what I need to know. How stupid of me to ask.

“Katniss, honey,” he breathes and moves through the dark, pulling me into his arms. “You will always be as radiant as the sun to me,” he tells me and I snort, wishing I’d never told him that phrase or how I’d once used it. “No, I’m serious. Katniss, you take my breath away.”

“But I’m still not particularly pretty. At least not as pretty as Neroli Lassiter, am I?” I poke and I can feel his frame stiffening besides me.

“No. Oh no, no, you can’t believe what I said that day, Katniss.”

“But you were right. I’m not very big.”

“And we both looked like shit that day because we’d been through too much shit. That doesn’t mean I meant it, Katniss. You have to know I was… I was trying to hurt you that day. Hurt you the way I thought you’d hurt me. Because I thought you’d used me, chosen Gale and the rebels, and left me to die or worse in that arena.”

“I know,” I say and finally manage to turn over into his embrace, burying my face in his chest as he caresses my back and whispers a hundred apologies for his careless words. I inhale his scent and let his hands soothe me.

So when he slips his fingers beneath my chin, I let him lift my face to his. I close my eyes and savor the brush of his lips against mine.

“You once told me that I had a weakness for beautiful things,” he whispers. “Real or not real?”

“Real,” I answer without pause. I can smell the horses and feel the warmth of Cinna’s glowing ember costume. I can see Peeta in front of me, radiant and beautiful, and smiling in amusement at my assessment of him. “But you don’t have a weakness for beauty. Only an eye for it,” I remind him.

“So yes, Neroli Lassiter is a beautiful woman--”

“And her sisters?” I prod and I can feel Peeta smiling against my lips as he kisses me once.

“And her sisters are, too. But you’re the only beautiful person I have a weakness for. No one else has left a lasting impression the way you have.”

I can’t help but smile stupidly at the repetition of his words from the cave. The reminder that somewhere amongst the acting for the cameras, we always had at least a sliver, a taste, a fraction of or at least the roots of something real.

“I’m still a goner for you, Katniss Everdeen, real or not real?” he whispers, and I already know the answer. I know what he wants me to say, because it’s true.

“Real.”

#words are peetas thing not mine #everlark fanfiction #everlark #post mockingjay #i don't even know what this is #but here you go anon #enjoy #anonymous #look at that ask

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sundeathh · 7 days

Text

LOVE BITE

ONE-SHOT | MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aizawa × GN!Reader • Words: 1,1 K

Tags: slice-of-life, cute, fluffy, romantic & cheesy stuff

CW: none worth mentioning. SFW.

It was a quiet night, and the soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm ambiance across the room, the gentle light reflecting off the walls adorned with framed memories of shared experiences. The rhythmic patter of rain against the windowpane only added to the comforting cocoon of the bedroom that had long turned into a sanctuary from the outside world.

Aizawa sat propped up against the headboard, engrossed in a book, his features softened by the gentle light. Beside him, you nestled comfortably against his side, your head resting on his shoulder as you idly traced patterns on his chest. The silence between you was comfortable, broken only by the occasional turn of another page or soft sighs of contentment.

"Would you like to have dinner now, love? I can go fix something for us if you're hungry." You mentioned, noticing you two have been cuddling like this for a while now, and it was getting late.

"I'd like to stay like this for a while longer, actually. I'm really comfy right now. I don't wanna move." He responded in a soft, relaxed voice, contrasting the stern one he usually wears at work.

After nodding your agreement, you moved just enough to place a gentle kiss on his jawline, and your lips inadvertently brushed against a spot on his neck, causing him to tense slightly. You paused, noticing his sudden stiffness, and looked up to meet his eyes, searching for more clues on his reaction.

"You're really affectionate tonight," Aizawa says with an even softer tone than before. While lowering his book to his lap, Shouta snakes an arm around your shoulders and pulls you back against him, moving his hand up to caress your hair.

That action makes you smile, and you lean your head on his shoulder again. "Well, I am affectionate when it comes to you… I thought you already knew that."

A quiet, breathy chuckle comes from within his chest and he says, with a hint of amusement in his voice, "Oh, I'm not complaining. It's… really nice."

Your heart flutters, and you lift your head to look at him with big, loving eyes. His eyes are soft, a rare expression that he wears only in moments like this, and his cheeks turn to a light shade of pink.

You can't help but smile at the sight of him. He looks so… homely, like a breath of fresh air. All you want to do is shove him all the love and affection you can muster.

So, without thinking twice, you lean in, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. The skin is warm against your lips, and his stubble causes a rough sensation to your lips, but you don't mind.

You lean back to allow yourself a moment to really look at him, and the usual sternness is replaced by an endearing warmth. It's a look that makes him appear vulnerable, open, and surprisingly captivating.

The contrast between his usual stoic demeanor and this softer side of him leaves you amazed, wondering how someone can exude such strength and yet look so irresistibly adorable at the same time.

Closing your eyes, you lean in to press your lips against his cheek again, unable to contain yourself as the temptation is too big. And what you end up doing is a little more intense than a kiss. Instead, you part your lips and press your teeth on his skin, giving his cheek a light, affectionate bite.

Aizawa jumps in surprise, and his breath catches in his throat. "W-wait, what are you doing?" His voice is slightly shaky now, and his breathing quickened a bit.

His reaction startled you too, since you weren't expecting him to jump. Pulling away, you bite your lip sheepishly, feeling embarrassed for having such bold behavior. "Sorry, Shouta. I didn't mean to startle you."

He blinks slowly, his brows furrowed as if he was trying to process what happened. Then, he shakes his head, looking away from you, his face flushed more. "It… it's okay. I wasn't prepared for… that, though…"

A wave of mixed emotions crashes over you as your heart speeds up, and you wonder if you made him uncomfortable. How stupid of you. Worried, you quickly start apologizing again, but he stops you mid-sentence.

"It's alright." He reassures you. "I was caught off guard, but it doesn't mean I didn't like it."

Oh.

So... he liked it?

You blink, processing the moment, and your own cheeks turn pink as you attempt to suppress the devilish smirk that threatens to appear on your face. "You didn't?"

Shouta shakes his head. "Yeah, I mean… the feeling of your lips on my cheek…" He pauses, furrowing as if he was searching for the right words. "It was… like I could feel your love in that one simple action." He concludes, slowly.

Your heart melts. That was exactly your intention, after all. Smiling, you tell him, "That's true, I wanted to express that. I don't usually bite people, only the ones I love most."

That's all it takes to make his eyes go wide again, and he forgets to breathe for a second. Quietly, he mutters, "you… love me? Wait… are we talking about the same person?" He tilts his head to the side, processing your words to gauge if that was, in fact, a confession.

He's not the only one surprised. Your eyes go wide too as you realize what you just said. You hadn't confessed to him yet. Well, not directly. You weren't sure if you should. "Um…" you start but are cut short by his unbelief.

"You… love me? I mean, I know you like spending time with me but did you just say it is because you love me?" His voice is soft but rushed, and you can feel the nervousness through it.

You take a deep breath to organize your thoughts and nod. "I… do. I didn't really put much thought into what I said, it just slipped out. But it's true… I was meaning to tell you that soon." You chuckle awkwardly, embarrassed that it happened in such an unplanned way. "Besides, I don't nibble people I like randomly, that would be weird. But you… I love you." You confess, blushing.

And hell, can you blame you? This man is a teeth magnet. You could nibble him all over and you'd be happy.

Aizawa moves his hand to grab yours, and he gently tugs you into a warm embrace. He kisses your forehead, his lips gentle and soft against your skin. "In that case… I'm glad that you feel the same about me." He whispers against your temple.

You sigh into him, feeling content. Of course, he does. You think he wouldn't react so strongly otherwise. He deserves some happiness, you suppose. And he loves you too, that's all you could ever ask for.

"Thank you." You mumble, tightening your grip on his shirt, and he squeezes you in return. It feels like everything is finally falling together.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

#my hero academia aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #bnha aizawa #bnha fanfiction #mha aizawa #mr aizawa #bnha headcannons #aizawa shōta #aizawa shouta #aizawa #aizawa fluff #aizawa comfort #aizawa mha

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themadlu · 3 months

Text

Do Not Open That Door

Astarion is sure his leader's unflinching morals will lead him to another unwanted grave. He is also sure she is putting on an act because people like her do not exist, clearly. He decides to test his assumptions.

TW: None I think

WC: ~3000 words

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird for the encouragement!

Astarion is livid. Well, maybe livid was an overstatement—he is annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Such feelings are still a vast improvement over the fear and shame he's been accustomed to, but they make him restless nonetheless.

Especially because their cause is walking steadily next to him without a care in the world for his inner turmoil.

Zélie, their oh so great leader, has managed to spoil what could have been a perfectly enjoyable afternoon on multiple fronts. First, she decides to talk to the goblins ambushing them instead of treating them like the savages they are.

(“We don’t know how many of them are in this village Astarion. What if there’s a little army and we’re outnumbered?”)

After confirmation that there were, in fact, quite a few goblins (and a couple orcs to boot), she managed to get free passage through the village by leveraging their wriggly alien parasite. He isn’t happy about it. Not at all.

He has to begrudgingly admit hers was a wise call after witnessing just how large and hungry those orcs were. And of course they even agree to help a fellow true soul in need. Just what he needs to undermine what little influence he has on her.

(Her blood is in his body after all.)

In the last tendays she had made it her mission to remind him how despicable murder is, under most circumstances, aside from self-defence. This beautifully idiotic mindset of hers almost got her killed twice in front of his very eyes.

(She doesn’t know he has taken to finish off the enemies she leaves unconscious while she isn’t watching.)

When he had pointed out the suicidal flaw in her morals, she had given him her signature scolding look, crossed her arms, and started breathing in that funny way of hers.

In, hold, out.

(She says she is not trained as a monk, but he’ll be even more damned than he already is if that is true. The way she fights and holds herself—and those sickening ideals she has—tell a different story.)

“Honestly, darling,” he hisses at her as they walk through the village, squinty eyes trained on their every move. “I thought we agreed that benevolence and honour,” he spits the words out like a curse, “get you nowhere but to an early grave.”

“Astarion,” she always says his name when she speaks to him—even in annoyance— and he hates his constant surprise at hearing it. His elven name had been replaced with other titles over time, more befitting of his status—boy, spawn, whore, slut, beautiful, toy, love…

Truly, it’s a small miracle he managed to hold on to his name. It’s one of the few things left that are truly his, yet hearing it spoken from that solemn woman's lips makes something in his chest preen.

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that front. No, don’t give me that look. Killing someone is never justifiable. No matter what we tell ourselves, we are taking away something that wasn’t ours to begin with. Something irreplaceable. Even—” she held up her hand as he started to complain, “in self-defence, even then, I will make sure to exhaust all alternatives, and even then, it will be a failure on my part.”

You moron.

“Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think like you, darling,” he snapped. Hers was an act. There was no way in the hells anyone could survive to their…whatever age she was, he was never good with human lifespans, with that mindset. It was ridiculous, because if she actually was like that—if two–hundred years of shit didn’t teach him better—she should either be dead in a ditch or have ascended to godhood on her saintly behaviour alone. The only explanation he has for her standing close to him is that the mask she wears is as fake as his own. That, or she is a child of Ilmater. He bets on the former, given her complete ignorance of any deity on Toril.

“But you lied,” he counters, snapping his fingers. “You said we are here on Absolute business. Doesn’t that go against your precious code of honour?” he singsongs in her ear.

“I didn’t lie. My tadpole reacted to theirs, and they drew their own conclusions. Technically, we are going to their camp on Absolute business too, if you count removing these,” she tapped her index to her temple.

He smirks, victorious. “Circumstantial. One day, the tadpole won’t do the work for us and you’ll break your own code or doom us to death. For one, I’d rather not repeat the experience,” he says in a quiet voice, pointing at his chest.

Their companions are still unaware of his condition—another occasion his holy leader conveniently withheld information.

(“It’s your secret, it’s your decision.” Hypocrite.)

“Astarion, I know you take me for a fool, and I would normally pay more respect to a man—elf—my senior by centuries, but really. I can be practical and have a moral compass, and that means that when the choice is between lying and killing, I will pick lying any day, even if I don’t like it.”

Enough.

Her words incense him, annoyance suddenly turns into rage and something else—what’s that, envy?—he pivots on his left heel and closes the distance between them so fast she has no time to react. Zélie is left pinned to the wall, their bodies a breath away from touching, and he internally celebrates the surprised look on her face.

He stares at her down his nose, ducking his head and planting a slender hand on the wall beside her head.

Astarion has to make her stop before he tears her self-righteousness out of her throat. Before she realises how useless it all is—how useless and tainted he is—and either stakes him or banishes him. Because even her sickly, do-gooding self, fake or real it be, must have limits. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll crumble, and then he’ll be proven right. She is not what she says she is because creatures like that aren’t real.

“Let’s make one thing clear, darling,” he growls, nostrils flaring, “you may be our great leader, but you should get off your high horse before someone shoots you off it. I don’t know what perfect little corner of the universe you grew up in, but you know nothing of this world and its dangers.”

He flashes his fangs at her to drive his point across. The others are out of sight, looking for supplies in some ruin or cellar. Gods, he misses the city.

Zélie is staring back at him, bristling, but lets him continue. She never interrupts any of them, not even him.

“I thought humans were all about developing and living fast, but you, my dear, are as ignorant as a babe. I am trying to make sure we keep our collective hides safe and do not get sidetracked by other pitiful creatures on our path.”

He realises just how close he is to her when she straightens up again and their noses almost touch.

Pale eyes go darker with a flash of anger.

There. Come at me. Prove me right.

“Spoken like a true man of the law, lord magistrate.”

Why the hells is her tone so collected when she has a literal vampire at her throat?!

“You seem forgetful, so I’ll remind you that it was my ignorance that stopped Shadowheart from connecting her mace with your head. And it was my stupidity that convinced her you could join us, and that we should give you a chance at trust.”

She makes no move to get closer, but he recoils as if scorched by fire.

“And it is the same trust I placed in you yesterday when I let you bite me, even though it’s not how I envisioned a night of rest to go. I trusted you to stop, I trusted you to keep your word and not leave me a corpse.”

There it is. Reminding him of what he owes her. Of his debts. They say the quiet ones are the most depraved, and she is the strong and silent type. But he is nothing if not an expert in the art of subservience at this point, and if it gets her to keep giving him blood and protection—

“I trust you.”

Then you’re doomed.

She says it as if it were a challenge. Her gaze is unwavering and he is left speechless yet again. Cazador would admire this quality of hers.

“I hope you can trust me in return.”

Impossible woman.

“Well, I suppose you’re not wholly incompetent,” he manages to croak out. His nonchalant mask is harder to slip on this time.

She huffs a breath of a laugh, a tiny thing, but it’s enough to transform her whole face. The weight she carries on her deceivingly flimsy shoulders seems to lift, leaving behind a young woman smiling softly at a…well, a monster. Talk about inexperience.

Happiness suits you, little leader.

The fact it’s his prattling that caused this marvel of a transformation stokes something in chest and in the pit of his stomach that he promptly pushes down.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Zélie says. She moves away and he is left staring at the crusty wall. Her body never touched his own during their exchange.

Wait. That’s wrong. He was meant to make her see the reason in his ways, not the other way around. So why is he at her heels like a lost puppy the minute she walks away?

(“You are nothing by yourself boy. You owe everything to me.”)

He is weak. So weak he has leashed himself to a human who can barely read common, fuck's sake.

His temper rises again once he catches up with Zélie. He doesn’t need her condescension, nor her chiding (she doesn’t even know his full story yet, nor she ever will unless absolutely necessary, so pity isn’t there yet). He’ll show the wretched woman how wrong she is.

Karlach and Lae’zel jog behind them as they reach a barn with a door locked shut. Zélie thinks nothing of it at first, but Astarion can smell what’s inside.

(His senses born anew from her blood.)

He smells the ogre and bugbear and their horrid affair before the rest of his companions hear the grunts and noises.

“Oh God, someone’s fighting!” exclaims Zélie.

Fighting, you say?

An idea strikes him.

See what your misplaced goodness gets you when you try to help an ogre.

“I don’t know soldier, they don’t sound like fight noises to me,” says Karlach leaning towards the barn, but even she seems unsure. Astarion’s talents may be limited to a specific area, but in this case it works in his favour. He is very familiar with what those sounds mean. The half-ogres that fucked him into the bed so hard he bled were not so different.

(He still remembers how much it hurt, how he was left in a puddle of mixed releases, sweat, and what little blood he had).

“Well, even if they are fighting, it is clearly not our problem. I say we leave them to it and focus on what’s really important,” he says, using his annoyance as a hook. Zélie may be the most restrained person he’s come across, but he knows how to read people, and he knows she will do the opposite of whatever he says when it concerns morals.

She falls for it. His smile is harder to suppress.

“Astarion! We’ve just talked about this!”

Her voice raises a bit, but it’s almost eclipsed by another loud grunt from inside the barn.

“So long as my blade can be sharpened on my enemies’ bones, I am ready.” Lae’zel is almost as ignorant as Zélie when it comes to their world, which is usually a hindrance, but now it’s the push their little leader needs to run to the rescue.

Zélie tries to open the barn door (after cutting another withering look at the vampire lazily strolling at her back), finding it jammed.

The crescendo of grunts and bangs coming from inside is extremely loud now.

Gods, they must be disgusting.

“Hello?! Help is on the way, hang on!” the little human shouts as she frantically tries to get the door unstuck.

“Oh hells, let me do it, darling, before we turn into tentacled freaks,” Astarion says in mock-annoyance. She eyes him suspiciously and he shoots her a winning smile. His nimble hands make quick work of the lock, and he pushes the door open.

He needs just a peek to know his assumption about what was happening in the barn is correct, and turns to face his now horror-stricken companion.

“Gods, they are disgusting,” he comments with his lips crooked in a satisfied smile.

Zélie scrambles to compose herself and turns her back from the scene (the prudish) as she fails to find words to explain herself. “I—I am, I apologise, we thought—”

Oh, she’s in a state. Her cheeks flush redder than rubies (he can practically hear her delicious blood pooling there), whilst the rest of her is paler than after Astarion’s feeding. She opens and shuts her eyes as if trying to physically erase what she just witnessed.

The bugbear slides his now soft cock out of the ogre, and looks at them in rage.

“W–what the hells are you doing?!”

Oh, Astarion is thrilled. He doesn’t remember when last had such fun. He hears Lae’zel’s tsk’ and Karlach’s gags behind him, and he closely watches Zélie fumbling as he didn’t think was possible.

“Apologies! I, you—you were making a lot of noise and I, we, thought you needed help,” she holds her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “I apologise for the intrusion! We’ll leave now—”

“Ruined! SMASH. I’ll smash you!”

Oh. Astarion didn’t expect that. He just wanted to show Zélie how ungrateful the world is to idiots like her, not have her turn into orc food.

Before he can think, he is tackling the woman to the ground, the orc’s club crashing a few spaces to his left. Karlach and Lae’zel’s throw themselves at the aggressor, and the fight starts in earnest. Astarion is more a stalker than a fighter, but he had his first fill of human blood only hours before, and his senses have never been that sharp, so he doesn’t miss the bugbear rushing towards their prone form.

Daggers at hand, he braces to parry the onslaught (this may hurt) when his worldview shifts, his back in on the ground, and chilly afternoon air replaces the heat of his leader on his chest.

What just happened?

He turns his head to see the bugbear crashing to the ground, Zélie crouched on one leg and tripping him with her other. “Go help the others! I’ve got this!” she shouts, as she wraps her limbs around the assailant in a tight bind. “Wait! It was an honest mistake—”

He doesn’t want to hear her voice now. Doesn’t want to think how the little moron literally threw him away from danger. Even worse, he will refute the idea he protected her from an angry orc till his last breath. He only got his body back recently. That’s it. He still is unsure of how to use it.

And she's dinner.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what happened, so he nods and throws himself at the female orc while she is distracted by his companions.

The fight doesn’t last too long after that, and something takes a hold of his insides when he looks at Zélie. She is silent, staring at the large corpse on the ground, bugbear knocked out at her feet.

“Darling?” He moves towards her and the sadness in her eyes almost makes him apologise. Gods, what has he done? He didn’t think this was going to happen. And why does he care?! This was his intent, this and seeing the real her behind the strong, polite facade.

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know, darling. I—”

See now, how impossible it is to keep your ideals in this world?

“You knew,” she says, and while he words his excuses (the only real one being he didn’t think they were going to be attacked) her shoulders drop and a defeated huff leaves her mouth. A far cry from her happy smile earlier.

Astarion can’t wrap his head around how he caused both reactions in such a short span of time. But this look on her, this, he knows. He has seen far worse in the eyes and screams of those fools he lured back to his master, once they had his way with him and realised a bit too late they were as trapped as he was.

He expects her to shout, to berate him, kick him, punch him, stab him, banish him—but none of that comes. Zélie studies him intently, and something in her demeanour lights up, an internal judgement made.

“I still trust you.”

No. No no no, he’s not going to let her fool him into believing this—no!

Her face is suddenly level with Astarion’s knees, the now-awake bugbear readying a strike.

Astarion doesn’t need to think—he falls forward and sinks his dagger into the wretch’s neck. Blood spurts out, but after tasting Zélie’s Astarion has no interest in it; mud compared to a clear sky.

“Soldier!” shouts Karlach, ever the helpful friend. Zélie pants as the dead attacker slides off of her, eye to eye with Astarion again. He can feel her light breath on his face. Karlach pulls her up; he is cleaning his dagger on the bugbear’s clothes when an outstretched hand enters his vision. Hers.

“Come on,” she says, tired but steady again. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Astarion flinches from the hand as if it were a trap (it is always a trap), but Zélie is new territory for him, that much he begrudgingly accepts. She is apparently above the rules of their miserable world because she chooses to trust him, a vampire, a lying one, again.

He takes her hand, bracing for what may come his way, but she just helps him up.

“Thank you, by the way. For saving my life before.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. Don’t fall for—

She wraps her hand around his so delicately he thinks he may break, and shakes it. His thoughts and words are silenced yet again.

“Thank you.”

Fuck.

#bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #oc: zélie #tav oc #astarion #astarion fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #human tav #I still feel bad for the orc and bugbear

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thethreeeyed-raven · 7 months

Note

Hi can I request a opla usopp x reader where the reader is actually an villain fight usopp but using this prompt https://www.tumblr.com/ihateprompts/713952974206042112/kiss-prompts “I think I want to kiss you” I believe 😭sorry if it doesn’t make sense, I just love your writing 🏃🏾‍♀️

i think i want to kiss you

navigation | warnings : none? | a/n : he wasn’t originally on my masterlist but this was too cute not to do, enjoy! | tags : @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom , @fangsp1der-2099 , @knight-of-flowerss

The sound of cracking bones and fists coming into contact with skin could be heard all around you.

You looked around from the corner where you were hiding, inspecting the intruders that barged into Arlong’s park.

You recognised Nami with them, these must be the Strawhat pirates she would talk about.

The way she talked about them convinced you she was fond of them, but you didn’t know them, so you couldn’t trust them.

The two men were occupied with some of the fish men, and you still sat hidden.

You noticed one of them run away, a fish man chasing after him.

So you followed them.

“Too bad little one, just when we were starting to have some fun.” You heard the fish man say.

The strawhat pirate lifted himself up, calling after the creature.

He lifted his sling shot, releasing the band.

The tiny ball broke the glass bottle the fish man was holding, setting him on fire.

You heard him shout something, inaudible to your ears, so you moved closer.

“And, no one around to see it.”

You felt the tiniest bit of sympathy for him, before remembering he was the enemy.

“I saw it.” You revealed yourself from behind a tree, startling Usopp.

“Oh, well, did you see that?! I took down a villian!” Usopp jumped around excitedly.

“You still haven’t defeated me.”

He ceased his jumping, turning around to look at you in surprise.

“What…”

You drawed out two long, sharp swords.

“Come on then, defeat me. Then we’ll see if you crew will still believe you.”

You charged at him, swinging your weapons about as he dodged every one.

“Hey! We don’t need to fight! I’m sorry for killing your friend!” Usopp pleaded with his hands held out.

“He wasn’t my friend, merely an acquaintance.” Still calm, you swung the blade across his face, making him trip and fall to the ground.

You leaned down so you were eye to eye. “Have you given up yet?”

Usopp didn’t answer, instead he just stared at you.

The silence was intense, but he broke it when he said :

“I think I want to kiss you.”

Kiss?

“What?”

“What.”

The silence came creeping back.

A smirk painted your face and you leaned more forward.

“Then do it.”

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acciocriativity · 3 months

Text

THE U IN US - ATEEZ SERIES - CHAPTER THREE

Summary: You weren't really the lonely girl™ of campus, but it does feel like it when you look around, and there's no one by your side when everyone else are talking and whispering between each other. You did have "friends", more like "group projet friends" that you managed to get for yourself, but they were the ones that were real close, you were there only when they had an extra empty seat. But it seems like the gods above took your nonchalant facade as a challenge. Oh, you don't think you need friends to survive through college? Bet.

Pairing: Non! idol OT8 ateez x reader (platonic)

Tags: college! au; hybrid! au; ateez! au; fluff (a whole lot of fluff and wholesomeness); angst; hurt/comfort; mentions of loneliness and insecurities; mentions of hybrid mistreatment and abuse

WC: 3,4k

N/A: It's finally here and a thousand words longer than the previous chapter! Please reblog my work and let me know if you want to he tagged in the next chapter <3

TWO MASTERLIST FOUR

You were always an early riser. The sun was breaking its first lights on the horizon as you got ready for the day, but there wasn’t a single bone of excitement in you.

Your room reflected the mask you were trying hard to wear early in the morning, spotless and perfectly organized, that was until anyone noticed how messy your bed still was.

You feel asleep early for any college major, but somehow slept a total of 4 hours only. None of them knocked on your door, and you didn’t hear a single peep or saw any lights on from your own slightly open door. They were capable of managing themselves well, you knew that, so you closed the door and were left to your own thoughts for the rest of the night.

Your brain wouldn’t stop running to all the things you needed to do while waiting for a more appropriate hour of the day to actually do them. It was a suffocating feeling, and you hated to feel so impotent. So you cleaned everything you came across at 12 A.M. trying to be as quiet as possible, too restless and tired of all the toss and turn you did already.

You walked out of your room, and it was almost like every single worry you had all night was just in your head. The cop, the plan, your father, they’re now living with you, the shopping you need to do, the paperwork you have to get, their legal documents you have to find wasn’t splashed on the beige walls and the cold porcelain of the floor, so maybe you could just ignore it before your coffee.

“Good morning”, Seonghwa said as you reached the 3/4 of the stairs, now sure that you could see him on the couch and he wouldn’t scare you. Still, he did notice how you grabbed harder on the handrail and had a hard time trying not to smile, but his ears twitching could give him away. “I’m sorry”.

“It’s ok”, you chuckled. “Have you been up for a while?”, you asked as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“No”, he looked over to the windows, the sunrise clear on the horizon. “I did not even notice how early it was until I came up here”.

It was partly true, there were no windows on the basement area, instead a huge glass door that lead to the pool on the other end of the corridor. He did not see the sun rising and did not take notice of the time, he just did not sleep at all.

“Want some coffee?”, you said as you went around the living room to the kitchen.

“Sure, thank you”, he said but made no moves to follow you.

Seonghwa was enjoying the quiet to put his thoughts in order, something he couldn’t do lately. The last week took a toll on the whole pack to the point their scents changed a little due to stress. Nothing was planned and neither him nor Hongjoong wanted to put their trust and safety solely on your words.

Your presence on itself was something, he couldn’t decide how he felt about it yet. It was annoying how submissive and fake most of them got in your presence, including Jongho, which was a shocking sight back on campus. It was in Seonghwa’s nature to be attentive and caring towards others, he was aware of it, but he only offers that to his pack and pack only. There were no humans left that are worthy of that, Jongho himself said to him once. Yeah, he saw you before. All of them ended up on the hybrid protection department at least twice until now. You were just a human child bored out of your mind. What’s so special about it?

“Here it is”, you left the mug on top of the coffee table, eye smiled at him and then left.

Seonghwa was paralyzed on his spot. He did not hear your steps nor your closeness to him. Now the only thing he could hear was his own-scared heart.

There was a dark cloud on top of Seonghwa’s head, so you give him his coffee quick and left him alone on the couch.

Now, you had the least a whole hour until you had to leave to take the subway. It was enough time to make a small breakfast for yourself and revise your notes for today, but not to make a decent meal for 9 freaking people.

You went to grab your coat near the entrance, even though in less than an hour it would be boiling hot outside.

“Can you tell the other boys I’m grabbing food for us?”, you raised your voice as you looked over Seonghwa, at least 10 feet away, still on the same spot as you left him starting at the wall.

He winced because of your loud tone, and you signed, now aware of your mistake.

“It won’t take long, sorry”, you just left, it felt like the best thing to do.

Perfect, you said to yourself.

Perfect, Seonghwa said to himself.

He knew some of the others could mess up this new arrangement out of guilt for searching around your father’s office, but he couldn’t let it happen.

Yunho was the first to walk downstairs, the both of them needed to have a little chat.

You could only hear the click and clack of the cutlery hitting the porcelain plates. For a table with 9 people, it was quieter than when you eat on your own.

The house was always just that, a house, a balance between a safe place for you to rest in and someone else’s property that you had no control over, but never you felt so uncomfortable in it.

The night before you noticed how proper Yunho and Jongho were, but now, looking at all of them, it seemed forced. It was, because it was. Of course, they were trained to be.

“You are really serious about food, aren’t you?”, you couldn’t take the silence anymore.

Most of them nodded, a small chuckle giving a little bit of life to the table. It was true, call hybrid instincts or whatever, but they meant business when it came to food, but they knew very well there was more than that to the atmosphere in the room, and it was best for you to stay unaware of it.

“It’s just that good”, Mingi said suddenly, as he took another bite of the fresh croissant. “Melting on my mouth”, he mumbled more to himself than anything, still a little shocked at how good it was.

Your neighbors glaring at you as you left with four filled bags out of the small bakery three blocks away was worth it.

“You should have it as a sandwich later”, you said, more than happy to have an actual conversation.

Mingi wanted to hear all about your best recommendations, while San, Yunho and Hongjoong had a staring contest.

Wooyoung, San and Yeosang, a trio you never imagined would work well together, but somehow it did.

On the way to university, you found out, actually, the three of them were dance majors, not just Wooyoung. To your surprise, Yeosang did most of the talking for them this time.

In all honesty, Yeosang just wanted to hide in a hole and disappear. Never in his life he thought he’d want Wooyoung to talk more or that he would wait for a miracle, but at that moment, he caught himself doing both.

Every single loud noise made him jump out of his skin, from the sound of the rails to the loud people talking on the phone. It was all too much all at once. Your attention on him and him only was new, his face was all red, and he couldn’t look into your eyes. His hands hugged his bag against his own chest, but the weight wasn’t enough. If it wasn’t for two hands on his thighs, a clear sign of protection and sureness, he wouldn’t be talking at all.

Bless your heart, you gave every bit of encouragement and reaction to every thing he said, but it was not helping.

“S-so, we were trai-”, Yeosang already small voice was interrupted by the announcement of the next station. The doors closed, and you held tighter onto the pole as it started to move again.

“Training for what?”, you asked as you did your best to maintain the space between you and San’s body.

“There is a performance at the end of the year”, Wooyoung said it, faster than Yeosang could think.

“That’s so cool, so there’s a date already?”

She thinks, am I cool? It was unconscious how all of them perked up at the compliment. Wooyoung tail seemed like it had a mind of his own, swaying left to right. Yeosang turned even more red in the face, his fluffy gray ear covering the sides of his face as he recoiled between the two bodies on each side of him. San cleaned his throat as he looked the other way, he was not comfortable with how much he enjoyed it hearing such a small compliment from you.

Yeosang was a few beats late when he noticed you were still waiting for an answer.

“Oh, hum, no, I d-do not think so, right?”, he looked over to the other boys, who agreed.

“We’ll let you know so you can come see us”, Wooyoung said as he rubbed Yeosang’s back slowly.

“I’d love that, thank you, but are you sure it’s okay for me to come?”, you asked him, then glanced at San, who was already looking at you.

“We want you to come”, San said.

He said a ‘we’, when you were looking for an ‘I’.

It was a painful and awkward silent the rest of the way, until the three of you could breathe again.

“It’s not here”, Seonghwa said a second time since coming back to your father’s office.

He was already tired due to a sleepless night, now he had to spend all his energy to look for papers that weren’t even there.

“Then look again, it has to be here somewhere”, Hongjoong was loosing all his patience as he analyzed every single paper they found left on his desk.

Seonghwa took a deep breath. Hongjoong was being unreasonable, all of them already knew that, including Hongjoong himself.

“You know there’s no reason for why he would leave that behind, and it’s clear he hasn’t been here in a good while, so why are we doing this again?”, Seonghwa put the old box down on the table, all of it was useless anyway.

“This might be the only lead we get, do you just want to give up on him?”, the last two words barely a whisper as Hongjoong took a step closer to Seonghwa, the papers left scarred inside the drawer.

Both of them did not want Yunho, Mingi or Jongho to hear what was going on up there.

Standing so close to each other like this, eye to eye, they could almost touch the emotions swirling in the room. It was frustrating to Hongjoong. They had a goal and a chance, so why would they fail Yunho now? His anger, resentment and fear towards himself more than anything filled the room and suffocated both of them. Seonghwa looked nothing but empathetic and warm and welcoming to Hongjoong’s fears and worries, even when he could only feel the opposite, Hongjoong’s presence almost physically pushing him out.

It took Hongjoong only a moment to give up, which furthered Seonghwa’s worries.

“We’re going to figure it out”, Seonghwa whispered as he kneeled by Hongjoong’s side. He collapsed on the office floor, now holding onto himself. “We always do, don’t we?”

Hongjoong’s eyes seemed unfocused looking down to something on the ground, Seonghwa’s words barely registered in his mind.

When Seonghwa touched his shoulder, Hongjoong looked up to him.

“We always do, don’t we?”

“We do”, he sighed.

Seonghwa wished to say much more at that moment, but Hongjoong in that state would not hear it.

So he only did what he should do, offered a helping hand for Hongjoong to stand once more.

By the end of the day, you did all you could to not go back.

You called Jongho to tell him to get the food delivery when it was close enough to the house. He was surprised, jacket already on hand to buy lunch himself, but it was too late for a polite decline.

The bell rang and you hung up.

You did not come to eat with them, even though you had over two free hours in between classes, but they did not know that and even if they did, would they really call you out on it? It was more comfortable for them that way, so they could be free to behave like they wished to.

You stayed to study on the library after class, which you never did, you rather the comfort and quiet of your room for that, and it was barely 4 p.m.

The list was your salvation to skip dinner. This time, Jongho had time to thank you for the meal in the name of them all.

“It’s not a bother, don’t worry”, you said as you walked out of the second store, bags in hand and the phone tight between your shoulders and cheeks.

“We can cook for ourselves, you know. Don’t you trust us?��, he had that pouting voice through every word, and it took a small smile out of you.

“Of course I do, but you’re my guests and there’s a clear rule, guest don’t do any work around the house, so get used to it”, those words hit him like bricks when you thought it was a string on fresh water.

It was silent on the other side of the line, and you thought the call ended.

“Are you alright?”, his question caught you so off guard, you stopped walking in the middle of the busy street and a woman bumped into you with full force.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”, you smiled to her, but the woman didn’t look back to see your apologetic self.

Your voice was sincere, so Jongho allowed himself to stay calm.

She does not know, she’s not mad at you, he kept repeating to his stupid mind. Of course, you did not know and were not avoiding them on purpose because of it, but he felt his heart heavy still.

“We were just worried, you didn’t say anything so… but you’re safe then?”

“I’m coming soon, alright? Don’t worry about me, I’m just shopping for some stuff I need”, you walked faster, now feeling guilty to left them without a proper warning.

The moment Jongho hung up, the other 7 were waiting for an update. The winter night and the neighborhood made it seem later than it was. It was only 6:28 p.m., but there wasn’t a single soul outside and barely any noticeable noise.

“She’s coming soon”.

Mingi plopped on the couch, relieved. He barely talked to you, yet your presence and actions warmed him, and maybe he was getting too comfortable too fast, but just the thought of you leaving them now made him want to sob.

Yunho sat beside him and Mingi’s gray ears turned to him instinctively, but he had nothing to say. He knew Mingi well enough to know this meant something else to him, it was the possibility of another person abandoning him, and he was ashamed as it was of it. So Yunho did not point it out how that mentality wasn’t good for him at that moment, just offered his arm, that Mingi was elated to accept and cuddle with.

“Do not forget what we talked about today, can you do that Mingi?”, Seonghwa’s toned softened as he talked to him, a bit different from the actual conversation they all had.

Mingi only nodded.

It was a reminder for Yunho and Yeosang as well, no matter how they felt about the topic, they’d do their best to keep the roof on top of their heads.

Before you could grab the keys in your purse, the door suddenly opened.

You watched with your heart on your feet as a yearning Wooyoung took all four bags out of your hands and disappeared inside, too stunned to say anything.

“Uhm, Wooyoung, were you waiting for me?”, you asked as you stepped inside and closed shut the door behind you.

He hummed instead of answering you.

Beside him, there was no one in the living room, and the lack of noises was enough for you to assume they wanted to keep to themselves.

He carefully laid down your bags on the couch, then stood there with a small smile on his face.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you?”, he stood there shy and small in front of you.

The contrast of his behavior from yesterday evening to this gave you whiplash. Is this Wooyoung, or that was Wooyoung? Then, you knew he was trying his best to charm you, and he did. So was he not like that usually, or will he not be like that to you?

They carried huge baggage with them, and maybe you’ll never get to figure out even a small percentage of it, that was clear to you. Still, it is hard to be the one that had to pretend and ignore the elephant in the room.

“Yes, there is actually, but can we talk for a bit first?”

Wooyoung’s tail stopped its course in the air and his smile faltered, he nodded.

Both of you sat slightly turned to each other, but Wooyoung could not hold your stare, so he looked at the painting on the wall instead.

He thought his minds was playing tricks on him, but you seemed much nervous than he was. Your body was screaming to get out of there and run just like his. What could they’ve done for you to be so tense? Surely, you were not scared of him if you weren’t even scared of Hongjoong or San.

You took a deep breath. Your own mind exhausted you the whole evening and night because of this very moment, you were tired of overthinking every single thing they did.

“I just want to make it clear, so we can stop walking on eggshells around each other”, your voice was barely a whisper, still Wooyoung flinched at the reminder of his own confusing behavior towards you, just like the others he’s been hot and cold to you for no reason, when you’ve been nothing but nice to him. “I want you and the others to be here, and you do not have to do anything because you feel like you have to please me in return, can you understand that?”

He nodded.

“I am also not mad at you by any means because of yesterday”.

That made him look at you, because you deserved at least that level of respect, even though your face was a bit blurry through his tears. He knew your kindness was undeserving, and he would do anything to compensate for it, no matter what you say.

You wished to hug him, and maybe he read your mind, because a second later, Wooyoung launched himself into your arms.

It was a silent cry at first, you were stunned in place, surprise by the trust and vulnerability he was showing to you, then you heard his sobs and the sound broke your heart, you never heard before and never wanted to hear again.

You held him tight through the soft tears, loud cries and slurred words he muttered under his breath on your shoulder. Even when your arms stared to hurt, he did not let it go, so neither did you.

It was comfortable to be near you like this, for the first time Wooyoung understood why San liked you so much, and that did not leave a bitter taste in his mouth this time. You were warm and kind and really soft, almost better than his favorite blanket.

“Wooyoung”, you broke your little bubble, and he hummed into your neck. “Can you call the others for me, please? I bought some clothes for you all to try on”.

He was perfectly comfortable in that position, leaning into your side and the last thing on his mind was to move away, but the moment he looked at your soft eyes and pretty smile, he got up.

He should not be understanding San in this way.

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