Personal Pillow - B.H.

Billy x ! Fem reader

(basically just fluff)

Reader falling asleep during the car ride home and Billy carrying them into the house

Reader and Billy sleep in the same bed/room and Reader is afraid of the dark so they insist on keeping a night light on all night which annoys Billy who prefers complete darkness to sleep so Billy's head rested on the reader's chest <33

a/n: I decided to do that second one cause bruh that's cute asf and I used a nightlight for a while- I used to have to sleep with my tv on, but now it has to be pitch black lmao. I think I will also write that other one cause I did something similar with Billy and my oc (ya... i have an oc but lmao) and love it too! enjoy cutie!

Pairing: Billy x Reader

Length: 1.3k

Warnings: Mention of trauma, maybe slight PTSD on readers end?, Kind of Billy too, a fluffy Billy

Personal Pillow - B.H.

"Seriously?"

Billy propped his head up on his arm. He looked at you with flat eyes, hardly amused by what you'd just said to him.

It was a bit funny to see him laying in your bed beside you; soft and fluffy light coloured blanket covering the two of you- one of your stuffed animals (a teddy bear with a pink ribbon around) under one of his arms; it looked so odd to see someone like Billy Hargrove lying there, looking like this. But it felt right to have him there with you.

"Yes," you say, turning to slip out of your bed in order to turn off the rooms light only to be stopped by warm hands grabbing you by the middle of your stomach, pulling you roughly into his front.

"What are you, like, five?"

He speaks into your ear like he's trying to seduce you, but his words are mocking, making fun. It makes you pout, only further making you look like a little girl, only making him squeeze you closer with a smirk on his beautiful face.

"See, you even look like you're five right now," Billy pinches your cheek closest to him, "my little baby."

You like how he calls you baby. But you don't like why he's doing it.

Maybe you didn't like the dark, it was hard for you to sleep at night when it was pitch black. And at your age, it maybe seemed a bit much. Like something you should have grown out of long ago.

But with the oddities that had been happening in Hawkins over the past year, the darkness had become something that scared you; things that shouldn't exist or rumours of the happenings around town are what hid in the corners of your room, darkness that couldn't be tamed.

The thing that had attacked Billy was something that haunted your mind the most. You wondered how come it had to affect you so badly.

And yet Billy could sleep perfectly fine in the dark. In fact, he preferred to sleep with it dark, pitch black. Most people older than the age of ten did.

So all it did was make you feel embarrassed as you forcefully pulled yourself away from his tight grasp; perhaps he realized you were a bit upset and that's why he let you go, or the more likely reason was that he hadn't actually expected you to pull away from him.

"Come on doll," he sighed, watching you walk to the light in your room and hesitating. Your nightlight was on already, so you had nothing to fear, logically you knew that even in the dark. But the illogical parts of your brain demanded to be heard.

You didn't give him a response as you shut the light off and quickly walked back to your bed, the nightlight illuminating your path as you jumped back into the bed.

Back turned to him, you refuse to acknowledge him. But you feel embarrassed, and slightly bad.

This was supposed to be enjoyable. You were lucky enough that your parents liked Billy, that your parents trusted you in your room, and trusted you to have sleepovers with him. They were privy to the knowledge that at the very least his father and him had a bad relationship, and were fine with him being here.

And granted, it had been enjoyable till this point.

He had come over and spent most of the time in your room with you, talking and messing around (mainly on his part; he just loved to get under your sin sometimes- always says that you have the cutest angry face,) at one point you even sat in the living room and watched a movie while your parents went to their room to give you two the space. Dinner had been fun as Billy got along really well with your father, who loved Billy's Camaro.

It had been good. Fun. You loved him, you loved him being here.

But now you felt bad, embarrassed.

You reached your hand over to flip the tiny nightlight beside your bed off. You'd swallow your fear because Billy was the guest and you wanted him to be comfortable (and you were embarrassed enough as it was; you felt like a little child). You could hack it for the night you supposed.

But the moment your fingers touched the switch, they were pulled away as Billy's hands grabbed your arm and dragged it back down, in the process dragging you away from the edge of the bed that you'd situated yourself on, pulling your frame into himself. He wouldn't let you move an inch.

"Leave it."

Your eye rows furrowed and you tried to twist your body in order to look at him, but his arms were like vices and he only squeezed tighter, making it impossible to turn much less wiggle too much.

It takes you a few moments to realize he's referring to the nightlight you had on. He's telling you to just leave it on. And you can't figure out why. You were so sure he would insist it be turned off, thus why you didn't argue back much, but instead he was stopping you.

For Billy, it's a matter of understanding- and not having you be cross with him all night, inching yourself away from him when all he wants is to be pressed against you. He would rather it be pitch black, but he would have to be blind to not realize that the darkness in Hawkins had become one of the things you feared most. The metaphorical darkness that was a world, an upside down one, one that was bleeding into the right one. The upright one.

For Billy, darkness was familiar. He had been shrouded in the dark in most aspects of life and he had found it easy to navigate; you were (as silly as it sounded; just him, he knows-) a brightness in that darkness. He didn't need to feel scared of the darkness at any point if you were there.

And darkness hid the things he didn't want (nor need- in his opinion) to see.

"Are you... Sure?"

"If I wasn't fuckin' sure I wouldn't have said it, would I?"

It was a rhetorical question.

Billy finally let you turn your body towards him, loosening his arms on you just a bit in order to allow you to turn your body. His intention- aside from enjoying the ability to feel the front of your body pressed against his own and see your face up close- was to bury his face into your chest, and it actually wasn't a sexual thing in that moment.

He shimmies his body down a bit; it's a funny feeling and a funny sight. The word 'shimmy' doesn't sound like a word you would use in relation to Billy Hargrove, but it's what he's doing. It tickles a bit as his body rubs against your own. If you weren't tired, you might've felt different about it. But at this point, you only smiled softly.

When he positions himself properly to press his head against your chest, he lets out a moan; god he loves the feeling of your chest, your body, skin, everything. The heat you radiate against him makes him melt (and Billy Hargrove never melts.) He's lucky he enjoys heat, because the way he's pressed against you under the blanket is radiating heat, your body temperatures mixing.

He knows in a few hours you are going to be trying to push him away. But he's not letting it happen.

With his face pressed into your chest, it's dark, almost like there isn't a nightlight on. He's fine with that. He's perfectly fine with that.

"Might have to take this pillow home with me."

He is referring to you, and it makes you squeeze his shoulders.

You let him stay there, because you know he's using your chest to block out the light in your room. And you feel the way he's loosened his muscles pressed against you, comfortable. Safe even. And that's all you want for him. You don't need to be so scared with him there pressed into you.

Maybe the nightlight isn't so bad, Billy thinks, if it means he can use your chest as a pillow and a blockade for the light.

'happy endings' - Kiyoshi Teppie x Reader (pt.1)

part 2

nsfw // 18+ content

You didn't know how bad the condition of Kiyoshi's leg really was until you were sitting in the infirmary with him listening to the nurse talk. He collapsed in the middle of the game, unable to get back up, causing him to be carried to the infirmary on a stretcher. Usually, Riko would be the one to accompany him but the game was at its peak and there was no way the team could manage out on their own - that's where you came in.

You followed the paramedics as they carried Kiyoshi to the infirmary - putting him down on the bed and the nurse rushing to aid him - it was awkward, not knowing anything about what was happening and standing in the corner. When the nurse was done her examination she stood back and began to talk to Kiyoshi - Kiyoshi's face relaxed as he took in a deep breath, indicating goos news - after her talk with Kiyoshi she turned to look at you. "There are some steps you need to do before he can go back," She said as she gestured you to follow her. You made your way over to her, watching her sit down on the bed next to Kiyoshi's injured leg.

He had simply pulled a muscle, and with his previous injury, it had a horrible effect on his leg. His muscles were tense, locked almost as the nurse attempted to move them. The sight was rather repulsive - it looked like his legs had been injected with blotchy steroids - but you kept a poker face as you watched the nurse massage his leg. She walked you through the various techniques that would calm his muscles down, pressure points that would relax him and so on.

"Repeat this for 30 minutes and you should be good," She said as he got up. "I recommend that you do this massage before and after any form of physical exertion."

You weren't close with Kiyoshi at all. You knew him, he knew you, but other than that you two were ghosts to each other. Acquaintances would be the appropriate term. Did you have a crush on him despite that? Maybe - leaning more towards yes. It was awkward massaging your crush - but it was part of your job, or a new addition anyways - so you tossed your discomfort aside and started to recreate the motions the nurse was doing before.

"You're good at this,"

You looked up at Kiyoshi.

"You're so much gentler than her-" He said adjusting his position. "She was practically boxing with my leg."

You flashed a small smile before turning back to his leg. The room went quiet again. You found yourself focusing on the task - too absorbed in it to have your guard up about your other surroundings - so when you heard a moan your body jerked up and you stopped. You looked at Kiyoshi - whose face was burning red - 'I'm a little touch-sensitive,' He said trying to laugh it off. You simply nodded and went back to massaging, trying to ignore your panties getting damp and the weird feeling in the bottom of your stomach when you replayed the sound over and over again in your head.

You came into the infirmary thinking that it was a one-time job - and after hearing Riko marvel at how quickly Kiyohis leg got better after the massage - you got promoted to full-time. Before and after practice and games, you would have Kiyoshis leg in your lap as you gently glide your hands on his calves, pressing down on the spots as you were instructed, for half an hour each time.

A perverted part of you actually liked the job - I mean, you got to be so close to your crush. You would often zone out and stare at him as he tried to crack jokes to try to lighten up the atmosphere. You noted that you were weird for getting some sick kick out of getting to touch him like this - the intimacy caused butterflies in your stomach - and you would pretend not to notice the many times he would moan or grunt during your sessions, sometimes you'd purposefully go over his sensitive spots to hear his moans - because oh my god, he sounded hot. It was wrong, and you knew that, but seeing him squirm under your touch itched something in you that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

It sounded like a laid-back job, but trying to work through the literal rock-hard muscles made your hands sore - 'i should be getting paid,' you thought to yourself as you put Kiyoshis leg on your lap for your massage session - but sadly, you were getting promotion after promotion with no wage insight.

"What?!"

You looked at Riko in disbelief. You were standing in front of her father's gym - freezing your ass off from the cold wind - ignoring the towering figure next to her. You were not a violent person, but at that moment you could've killed Riko. You paid no mind to Kiyoshi as he stammered next to Riko - 'it's no problem - i don't even need it' - but the way Riko was staring at you contradicted that.

You were the only one who knew how to do the massage - down to the groves and all - so it made that Riko call you when Kiyoshi's body was stiff as a rock. The last game in the tournament had pushed him to the edge, his body sore still a day later, so Riko suggested that you do his massage again - only it be a full-body one. You hated the idea, but deep down you knew that you had to do it - and after emptying out Rikos wallet as payment - you followed her as she led you and Kiyoshi inside her father's gym. There was a dedicated yoga room - with blinds that could be pulled down - 'kinda convenient,' You point out as you enter the room. 'the women feel more comfortable having the windows blocked during their yoga session, so my dad installed them,' Riko replied - you helped set up the makeshift massage table and bid Riko farewell as she exited the room.

"Uh - I should go change," Kiyoshi said awkwardly. "The lockers are too far - just change in here, I'll look away." You had been caressing this mans legs for a little over a month now, you had established a very sturdy professional relationship with him, so you saw no problem with him changing in the same room - besides, you were going to see him almost naked anyway.

You kept it professional as you turned around and let him change - minus the few glances you shot at his reflective metal water bottle showing his naked back - and as soon as he was stripped down to his underwear you got to work. He got on the massage table and you began right away. His muscles immediately relaxing under your touch. Your body froze when you heard the strained moan that escaped his mouth when you started to massage him. You quickly learned how sensitive Kiyoshi actually was - he would squirm under your touch, bite his lips and curse under his breath when you would go over certain spots - your brain was foggy from the hormones raging within you, making you go quiet. Too quiet to a point where it looked like you were mad.

"Your hands feel like clouds," Kiyoshi remarked as you massaged his shoulders. "Apparently clouds are super heavy," You said as you pressed down on his shoulders. "They weigh tons." Kiyoshi chuckled at that. "There go my dreams of sleeping on clouds," He joked. You - as usual - gave your quick smile before your face dropped into its emotionless state - 'don't look at his back. don't look at his back,' you looked at his back in full view and your heart stopped. it was like staring at a greek-god. you felt almost honoured to be touching him like this.

No one could tell my look at him, but Kiyoshi was in horrible condition - there was no way that he could play more than a quarter, and that's the optimistic angle - but you tried your best to pull through it.

"I'm weighing the team down, aren't I?"

It broke your heart hearing that.

"No, you're our leading player. You carry the team, to be honest," You said trying to make him feel better. "You should joke more often," He replied. "I'm being serious-" "Whatever," He mumbled.

You had never seen Kiyoshi like this before - he was always sporting a happy-go-lucky attitude and smile - and though it wasn't part of your job, you decided to cheer him up.

"Let's make a deal," You said as trailed down to his back. "If you win, I'll give you another full body massage," He didn't look too amused by that. "With-" that piqued his interest. "A surprise to give your day a happy ending."

"Seriously-" "I'm dead serious."

Kiyoshi played like a monster after that massage, outdoing Kagami when it came to dunking. You didn't know that he'd suddenly get such an urge to play after your offer - was he really that interested in a full body massage? - everyone wanted to know what you had done to fire him up so much after the game.

"Tell me," Riko said as you two packed up the last of the stuff in the locker room. "What did you say to him? Word for word?" "I just told him I'd do s full body massage again-" "And?" "I'd give his night a happy ending. I was thinking of surprising him with some food or-" "You told him WHAT?"

That night in the locker room, you found that happy endings didn't always refer to the princess getting together with the prince. You found out that you had gotten yourself into a BIG big mess.

It felt weird knowing that Kiyoshi risked his leg for a chance to have you jerk him off - was it really that big of a deal to risk your entire bodily health? - but it felt weirder knowing that he'd be under the impression that you were going to do it. You tried not to think about it too much as you massaged his beck, smoothing over his muscles and you made your way to his shoulders.

"You were on fire today," You blurted. You were nervous and the silence wasn't helping.

"Thanks," He replied.

It was time for him to get on his back. You tried your best not to stare at the growing bulge in his pants. You'd tried your best to ignore the voice in your head screaming at you to grab it, palm it - just touch it in any sort of way - but you refrained. Yes, you had questionable thoughts during your sessions, but you weren't going to do what essentially can be a crime - but then again, that's what he's expecting. You hated that you gave in - your body was raging with lust, panties soaked from the sight of him in front of you - and you slowly moved your hand down to his bulge. You grazed your fingers over it - the moan that followed was all you needed to keep going - slowly you began to palm it, feeling him throb under your touch. You felt the fabric get damp and pulled your hand away - precum had soaked a circle in his underwear - and with that, you grabbed the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down. His dick practically sprung out - 'oh god, it's big' you thought as you stared at it - you slowly reached out and grabbed it in your hands. The sudden touch causing Kiyoshi to let out a loud moan.

Fueled by your own desire to explore his body, you began to pump your hand, slowly going up and down his dick. You focused on the shaft, wanting to feel his veins against your palm. Kiyoshi threw his head back and let out a string of moans - practically screaming when he felt your other hand on his thigh, massaging his sensitive spots with heavenly pressure.

You didn't consider yourself dominant in any way; especially sexually - but the way Kiyoshi withered under your touch awakened a new feeling within you. You liked how in control you were - such a strong, powerful man, crumbling under the touch of someone like you - and the more you watched him squirm, the more pleasure you got.

You felt bad - but the urge to toy with him was too loud to ignore.

___________

ill write sub Kiyoshi smut if this gets 1 note.

interact for good luck | reblog if you have a pretty pussy

402 notes View Post

izayanara

2 years ago

Hii, can I request an angst filled fic with billy please? I’m thinking he doesn’t die when him and eleven are fighting the mind flayer and y/n is part of the gang and helps fight the mind flayer. But when everything is getting back to normal Billy is having a lot of nightmares and calls you for comfort even tho he’s so hard headed he doesn’t actually admit the reason but you know..

Billy then realises you knew all along he was suffering and he’s shocked with the amount of love you’ve shown him and he wants to be with you but as he goes to admit his feelings to you he comes across you and Steve Harrington out on a date and it kills him..

That night he makes a plan to make you his and when you come home billy is tapping your window asking to sneak in.. I’ll leave it up to you how you end the fic but just a silly idea I had lol and I’d love to see how you write this :)

a/n: This took longer than I meant for it to because I ended up writing way more than I initially meant to so, here you go! (This was so fun tysm bbys) also I wrote with fem reader cause it's what I do by default eee....

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader (female pronouns)

Length: 6.4k (yeesh)

Warnings: Billy is struggling, mental illness, thoughts of death/dying, Billy curses ofc. OOC Billy a little ooc maybe, mentions of abusive parents

Hii, Can I Request An Angst Filled Fic With Billy Please? I’m Thinking He Doesn’t Die When Him And

My Girl - B.H.

Sleep was meant to be the escape from reality. It was the escape from all the bad things around you, all the bad thoughts and memories that demanded to be heard and seen. A moment in time where there was nothing, your brain was empty, or it felt that way, and you were free.

But people like Billy Hargrove weren't so lucky.

Whenever you sleep, people say you always dream, it's just a matter of whether or not you remember the dream when you wake up. Most of the time, dreams are forgotten the moment you open your eyes.

But people like Billy Hargrove remembered them when he opened his eyes.

Half the time, they were the reason his eyes had opened. They were less dreams, more memories, of that thing. The Mind Flayer. But they always ended differently than how it had really ended.

His corpse, on the ground in the mall, you leaning over him. Begging. Max, crying.

Or maybe it becomes your corpse instead of his. Or Max. Those ones are the worst. The ones where you or she die protecting him, or in his place. Because if anyone had to die that night, it had to be him. It should be him.

Sometimes, in the darkest parts of his brain, the deepest corners he tried to ignore, he truly thought it might have been better if he died. Not just for everyone around him but maybe for himself.

It was hard. Some days were agony, while others weren't. Some days things felt so slow, and unreal, especially the first few weeks after the incident. He had grown a special distaste for hospitals for all the time he had spent in one.

Phantom pains would wrack his body some days, and nights. Some days it hurt so bad, especially his chest where the gnarly scarring lay, that he couldn't do much of anything. Days where his only reprieve lay in a bed that would let him fall asleep for minutes before it woke him up again with harsh reminders of everything. Tonight was one of those nights.

A night where he woke up covered in a cold sweat, quite literally soaked through the clothes he wore to bed into the sheets; pale and rattled as he sits upheaving- it mixes with the sharpest pain in his chest that he has come to expect but it doesn't matter how much he expects it, it still knocks the wind out of him.

For a brief moment, he feels like he's going to throw up what he had for dinner that night. But he doesn't. Instead, his eyes close as he tries to breathe properly again; the erraticness of his heartbeat and his uneven breathing only make his body ache. Phantom pains. Like he's there again like he's watching through his own eyes as he takes someone else to be a puppet to it- screaming inside because he may be an asshole but he does not want to do this. The only thing his body can do on his own accord in those moments is cry; it must've been a sight to see. A newly 18-year-old boy, with tears in his eyes as he does horrific things for something else.

Usually, it works. Usually, closing his eyes and just trying to breathe works; kind of. Billy can eventually find his bearings again and lay back down- maybe not to fall asleep again immediately, but just to lay there. Granted, he's not good at coping. He never was good at coping, and any mechanism he ever had has been dangerous or stupid.

Yet tonight it won't work. When his eyes open again, it's still like he's in that moment. It's still like those tendrils are digging into his sides, into his chest, and like he's hearing himself scream as whatever that thing is tries to take one more soul before it too fades away. If he looks down at his chest, he is almost sure that he'll see the gaping wound again.

He needs to talk to you. That's all he knows in those moments as he peels himself from his sweat soaked bed; he has to change the sheets and take a shower. Who knew a person could sweat that much?

Billy had never been so glad before that he had a phone in his room; sometimes he wondered how the fuck he got away with that with his father. Before everything happened, it was something only Billy used in the house, everyone else used the phone in the living room, but nowadays, when Max really wanted to quickly call someone, she would use it too. Anything really to avoid Neil, and Susan at times too; Max said once that complacency could be just as bad as actually committing the act. That still stuck in his mind.

Sitting on the edge of his bed beside his bedside table, the mint-colored phone in his hands, his body cries but he doesn't listen to it. Had he realized the time, Billy may've had second thoughts, not that he cared really what time it was, but you were most likely asleep and anyone in this house could've answered.

After two rings, Billy sighed preparing to just put the phone back on the base and do something. Anything, to calm down. Maybe go out for a drive- but you'd kill him for that one, it was dangerous when he felt like this especially considering when he felt fine he still drove like a mad man. The cold shower sounds nice but at the same time it doesn't; it scares him because he liked it cold. He loved it cold. And Billy never wants to feel that cold again.

"Hello?" you sound tired, you swallow, throat dry.

Billy doesn't say anything at first. What was he doing? It was the middle of the night, and he needed something to ground him again, to remind him he was here. He needed you; somehow it always came back to you, the comfort he needed.

You had just been some girl that watched those stupid bratty kids, one of them being his sister. Someone who had been friendly with them since before Max and himself came to Hawkins. Someone, who in school, offered to show him around if he wanted. Someone that spoke to him as a person first rather than a nuisance or a piece of meat to snatch up. You became so heavily intertwined with him via school, his sister, her friends, and the Upside Down. He wouldn't admit it genuinely, but he was a bit disappointed that you got a job at JC Penny in Starcourt over the other position for lifeguard you had mentioned you might go for to him.

He fucking hated Hawkins when he arrived the previous year. But maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought if you were in it.

"Hello...?" your voice alone made his muscles loosen, if only by a fraction. But now there was a new pressure in his chest, a tightness in his limbs not related to the dreams and memories or the aches and pains- it was related to you and he's not used to it.

Billy hears you breathe out, preparing to hang the phone up, and he reminds himself; he is Billy fucking Hargrove, not a sissy baby who can't talk to girls. Right?

But you were different.

"It's Billy."

He feels silly in that moment and his own name on his lips for some reason doesn't even sound like his name to himself. He was used to being so in the moment with his decisions; live now because it doesn't matter what you do, he won't ever like it- and rarely did he ever regret those decisions truly, but every other emotion in his body was working overtime.

"Oh," your voice seems to perk up but takes on an edge; worry? He can't tell. He still isn't used to the emotion of worry being directed toward him, "What's wrong, is something the matter?"

It's then the words get stuck in his throat. All of the "yes, I can't forget tonight"s and the "I think maybe I should have died that day"s are lodged in the back of his throat. Billy Hargrove is stubborn; there's no chance in hell he is going to tell you the truth. No way he is going to let others really know. Though, he is pretty sure Max kind of knows- she was a lot more observant than he realized till now.

Sometimes, Billy Hargrove is akin to a caged animal.

He is so used to people not caring. He is used to being hit for the small things and the big things; like the time he got a D on his history essay, or the time Max went missing. That is what he is used to. Telling the truth about how he feels is not in his vocabulary, and he isn't sure how to respond when someone opens the cage that he has been confined to for so long; scared that if he steps out, it is the wrong choice, and that choice means punishment. He doesn't trust, but he wants to. He doesn't want to seem weak, but sometimes, he truly is.

"No," he scoffs into the phone as if he wasn't the one who called so late, but you were, "It's nothing, I just..."

Just what? He can't find an excuse. He can't understand himself.

You're wide awake on your end now. If he could see you, he would've seen the way your face softened, eyes half-closing as your brows dipped in sad understanding. He doesn't need to speak for you to know. He is good at hiding, that you figured out, but not good enough because you can hear it in his voice, the way he speaks as he might just start either screaming or crying at the drop of a pen. The way his voice softens immediately after he says no, down to a low whisper, like he is trying to just disappear. The rattle in his breathing that he doesn't even realize himself like he still can't catch his breath properly.

He is hurting. He is scared. You know he is. Nightmares aren't uncommon to you, but you're sure the ones he gets must be even worse than the ones you do, and they must be almost constant. If you were there, you would've wrapped his larger frame into your smaller one and tried to comfort him, but you were miles away in your room.

"It's okay," you finally respond after he loses his voice, his brows furrow, "I mean... It isn't okay, how could it be, after everything?"

Billy doesn't respond, only holds the receiver tighter in his hand, almost thinking it might break.

"I just mean that it's okay to talk about it," you continue after his silence, "you don't need to talk about it at all if you don't want to Billy. But I want to listen if you ever do, and I think Max would too."

You hear a small snort. Billy isn't so sure Max would want to listen. Maybe she would, their relationship had been doing leaps and bounds better than before. Billy never hated his step-sister; in his own twisted ways he loved her, but he hated that it was her mother's marriage to his father that took him away from California- one of the last things in his life Billy could say he truly loved at the time. He's horrible with his words still when it comes to talking to Max or most anyone about anything that troubles him, or saying sorry (which he has- it's just been very awkward and he just can't seem to get it right, not the way he wants to) and he just wishes he could explain why. Why he is how he is, or how he was- still kind of is- someone like him isn't so easy to break and mold, especially with his father still in his life. But he wants to try. He is trying.

"She would," you insist, "I know it's tough between you two still sometimes, and you're both trying to navigate the relationship you both want, but she cares. Like you do. It's just hard for both of you."

Billy thinks about what you're saying in silence again. His actions define him, and they continue to do so every day. Saving the kids and you, and Steve, Nancy- the whole gaggle of people- that night has defined him as well, but it is muddied behind his other actions, ones he had taken out of anger or fear. The time he almost ran over Max's friends comes to mind; he wasn't ever going to do it, but that is their first memory of him. How he treated Max as a whole; the only times he was (almost) not under his father's foot. Or the time he threatened Lucas Sinclair; as much as he didn't want to admit it, it was as much for Max as it was for himself- or so he believed it was.

He saw her upset- and as her older step-brother (albeit an unwilling one) he didn't like that. But even more than that, his mind immediately went to his father. Neil Hargrove wasn't a good man, never had been, never would be. Good at acting like a nice guy; it was how he scored Susan, and he assumed his mother too initially. If someone hurt Max, if Max was upset by someone at school, and Neil saw, or Susan, who would inevitably tell Neil, it would be his fault.

Max fell into his lap, his father would reign hell on him for anything bad in any way that happened to Max because of the fact she was Susan's daughter. He didn't hit Max, but he'd hit Billy because of Max, maybe even in place of her at times, he didn't know. He was glad he never actually touched her, however. Not to mention his father was racist. Lucas Sinclair being near Max, and his father finding out? It would somehow come back down to Billy. And maybe even Max wouldn't be spared from his anger.

There was a bitter part of him towards his sister sometimes too in that aspect even if it wasn't her fault that his father chose to use Max as more cannon fodder to hurt him. But she never really took that into account when she did things like running out the window, leaving him to pick up the pieces. He always picked up those pieces.

The conversation between the two of you was one-sided at this point, not that you minded, nor did he because he still didn't know what he was supposed to be saying.

"I know things are hard right now. I know it has to be hurting a lot still, and I can't even tell you when or if that hurt will ever stop. Maybe it won't, maybe it will just dull with time but always be there, or maybe one day it will just be a distant memory. I don't know. But you do have people who care, Billy, I care. Try to sleep, if you can. I'll be just a phone call away anyways if you need someone to talk to. Or to talk your ear off; I hear I'm pretty good at that."

That elicits a single hoarse chuckle from his chapped lips. He told you that once. He licks them as he takes in a breath.

"Yeah... G'night."

"Goodnight Billy."

Even after he hears the click of you hanging up, he still holds the phone to his ear. He notes that his breathing has evened out considerably and that his muscles are looser than before. His chest still aches slightly with the phantom pain, but it doesn't feel like he is there with that thing in his body again anymore. He's actually sort of cold from the way the cold sweat he had woken up in soaks his sleep clothes; he knows he's taking a hot shower before he lays back down.

It's in those moments, between him finally letting the phone sit back down onto the receiver, and getting ready to move to the bathroom to shower, that he realizes. He realizes you knew all along; well, clearly you did, because you knew what to say exactly when he didn't even say it himself. You noticed he was suffering, and likely always had. When it came to you, Billy Hargrove was naked even when he was fully dressed- you saw through him.

And he didn't hate it like he thought he would.

You were something special. Someone who had made him feel... Loved.

He was almost sure that if you hadn't been there if you hadn't cared for him as you had even when he was a complete and utter piece of crap, then he would actually have died in that mall. He just needed someone to try for him, and always believe in him even when that monster was using his body as its little puppet, and that was you.

Billy Hargrove couldn't imagine a future that didn't have you in it. And he had to do something about that.

_____

It had been a week since Billy had called you in the middle of the night. He'd seen you a few times since, mainly when he was dropping Max off to the Arcade which you happened to work out; the kids were once again subject to the arcade in town and the little shops around there now that Starcourt had been 'destroyed by a fire.'

But those were only small moments, moments where you had a minute to say hello and ask what he was doing that day, and then you were off again and so was he. But he knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was you. All he needed to do was admit it to you. So, on a day he knew you wouldn't be working, he took his beloved Camaro and started the drive to your home.

Billy didn't worry about if your parents answered the door or not, because he was good at charming people. He was good at making good impressions when he wanted to, it was how he got Mrs. Wheeler to bend like putty. But he wouldn't be flirting with your mom.

The way to your home took him through part of town, the part that had the silly little movie theatre that paled in comparison to the one Starcourt had, or even any of the ones he had been to in California. But that was the price you pay for a small town, an interdimensional being, and the Russians in the only big mall Hawkins had had.

Maybe if things went well, he'd take you to that small theatre and-

The stop light turned red, forcing Billy to stop his Camaro right beside the theatre. It wasn't a problem, or it wouldn't have been, if he didn't see Steve Harrington walk out of the stupid little theatre with you by his side, smiling and talking animatedly.

You weren't his. So he had no right to feel how he did in that moment. To feel the blood pumping in his veins, in his ears, to feel it boil like hot water on the stove. To feel the sudden nausea he'd feel when he woke up from a dream that was far, far too real. To feel jealous. The burning jealousy in the pit of his stomach gnarled together with the other feelings he felt, and the moment the red light turned green, he hit the gas not caring how over the speed limit he was going. He did that anyways, he liked to drive fast, but now it was for a whole other reason.

Tanned fingers held the steering wheel with newfound emotion; it hurt. He hated the hurt. He didn't want to go home, he didn't want to anywhere. So instead, he just drove off towards Lovers Lake and sat in his Camaro.

At first, he had his music blaring on the radio. Max always said that he would go deaf someday because of how loud he played his music. She also said that he was probably already going deaf whenever he didn't listen to her. It always earned Max a half glare and a look of annoyance and the title of shitbird.

But what people didn't really understand was that sometimes, when he played the music loud enough (especially in recent months) it would deafen out the rest of the world and even his own thoughts. It was in those moments, listening to his favourite songs on painfully loud volumes that he wasn't anyone, he was just a guy listening to music.

Not that he'd ever tell anyone that. It sounded deeper than it really needed to be, and he'd rather leave it at just being the bad boy who liked his music way too loud for his own good.

Eventually, the music would run its course. For hours, he listened to the same tapes of music he enjoyed. But now it was just loud and did nothing. Now, it was just loud background noise to the hurt and anger in his chest. In his head.

He really needed to learn how to cope better.

Billy had never been on good terms with Steve Harrington, and he was fairly certain if it had been anyone else with you, he wouldn't have been as upset as he was. He'd still be upset, sure, but something about Steve Harrington scratched at the sorest parts of his brain and triggered an annoyance unbridled.

At first, he wasn't even sure what it was about Steve that got on his nerves. But it was over time, and more recently (everything, he realized seemed to happen so much more recently) that he started to figure it out. It wasn't that he was a popular kid before and now he was quote en quote, nothing. It was jealousy.

Billy realized he felt jealous quite a bit it seemed.

Jealousy for the fact that even if he wasn't King of Hawkins anymore and that the title had been snatched by Billy, he seemed happy still. Jealousy over the fact that he had gotten away from people like Tommy and Carol. Sheep, followers, who never really cared about you as a person but only your popularity and what it had to offer.

Jealousy because he was angry. Angry in general, at the world, and the people in it, and Steve Harrington became the easier target for Billy's overflowing negative emotions that he couldn't find a place to put.

After Starcourt, after everything, the feelings simmered. But they still remained, it was hard for Billy to change his feelings. Especially seeing how people liked Steve and were friends with him for that. Not to mention, that night with Max disappearing, and then Steve lying about it and insinuating he was dumb even though he could see Max in the window? It still bugged him.

But seeing him with you had sparked the fire in his belly again. It was as if every feeling he had tried to quash towards the man had come back tenfold.

Steve Harrington was going to get you. He was going to have someone that Billy actually wanted. Someone that he didn't just look at with lust- one of the first people to ever show him care, and Steve was going to snatch that.

Progress be damned, being nice and not letting his anger or jealousy override him be damned as well- he had to tell you. He wanted you to be his. And if it didn't work out, well, he'd cross that road when he got there he supposed.

That's what he usually did.

___

The music in your room was on a low volume, not wanting to wake your family members in the other rooms. It was late, and you were finally winding down for the night.

It had been a long day, one that left your feet aching a bit, but it was a good pain. One that told you that you'd accomplished a lot during the day.

You fully intended to relax on your bed for a bit, reading a book and listening to the music on your small stereo, dressed in your comfortable pajamas. Maybe you'd grab a snack too, and-

The sound of something tapping on your window made you freeze. Immediate thoughts were full of sudden fear, almost like your body was preparing itself for the flight or fight response. It had become something your body did without much thought, solely because of the past events that haunted Hawkins that very select people knew about. It had been quiet for a few months now since Starcourt, but you had learned to never really truly trust Hawkins to be completely normal.

Internally you knew that you were overreacting in the moment, so you reminded yourself it was fine; probably wind, or maybe a tree branch near your room hitting the windows. But it didn't hurt to check the window. You were glad to have done so because what you weren't expecting to see was Billy Hargrove at your window, looking at you with an unimpressed look in his eyes- waiting for you to open the window.

Which you did, quickly at that.

"What are you doing?!" with the window open, Billy hauled himself up and into your room as you moved to the side, holding your arms out to help him in case he needed it; you doubted he did, you doubted he would want you to help him too much either.

"You have a tall ass window," Billy groaned as he lifted himself into your room, booted feet meeting the wooden floor with a soft thud.

"Cause it isn't meant to be climbed into!"

Not wanting to wake anyone in your home, you hissed when you spoke, closing the window softly behind him. With him in your room, your immediate thought was to check him over, to check if he was hurt in some way, shape, or form that was visible to the naked eye.

People knew. People knew now what went on with him at home, and it wasn't Max who told them, it was technically Eleven, when she looked into his memories, his mind. You had suspicions before; he was someone you cared about, your friend, and his father had never been someone Billy mentioned fondly. He wasn't even someone Billy would mention unless he had to.

Bruises that hadn't been there before, or tired eyes that were past tired and held an emptiness that was much more telling than maybe he realized. Those were signs, those were things you looked for and always had whether he noticed or not.

"Are you checking me out?" he suddenly asked, as your eyes finished a final sweep of his body. The smirk on his lips made your face heat up, and well, it did kind of look that way, didn't it?

"What? No- I was just, well..." you couldn't exactly say it because you didn't know how he would feel about the fact you were looking at him, inspecting him, for any sign of his fathers abuse. It was a sore subject, it wasn't something he liked multiple people knowing.

He rolled his eyes. He either knew, or your hesitance annoyed him. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Billy.

"I don't blame you," he chose to continue the line of conversation, moving to examine your room. He'd been there before, in high school, when you both hadan asignment together. But he never really took it in; it was simple but suited you.

"You're insufferable sometimes, you know that?"

Billy still has the smirk on his face but doesn't respond. It's odd. For the time you have known him, Billy Hargrove has never been the type of man to stay quiet in these situations, never the guy to back down first in a game of sarcasm and witts- and never ever to back down from flirting with anyone he initiates it with.

You're worried. And Billy sees it in your eyes; it's another reminder to him for why he is here.

"Is something wrong?" you speak softly now, moving to turn the stereo volume down completely. It's still a bit jarring that he's in your room nearing the middle of the night, but you had let him in, and you had no reason to turn him away. Not with everything.

"Why would something be wrong?" he was bluffing- you weren't stupid.

"It's almost the middle of the night," you point out, leaning forward on your bed to peer into his face, "and you came to my window."

"Nothings wrong, jesus."

Silence again.

"Saw you while I was out today."

The way he spoke was suddenly a bit more serious, a bit cooler, a bit more fenced off.

"Oh? Why didn't you come over and say hey?"

"You were with Harrington."

Oh.

The way Billy said Steve's last name was like he was talking about a bug he had seen or like he had seen something that made him sick.

"I was headed to find you, and you were with that shithead."

You shot him a look, he sort of made it sound like whatever was wrong was your fault or your being with Steve when he went to find you was an offense towards him. He also didn't need to call Steve names, but that likely wasn't going to change, even with the two of them on more neutral terms.

"Is that the problem?" You probed, mild annoyance on your face, "that you wanted to see me but I was with Steve? You couldn't just... Talk to us both, but Steve was there?"

"Seriously?"

Billy knew he was struggling in that moment with what he came here for. He was still angry, upset. He still struggled with his words and he was surprised it hadn't been the death of him at this point.

"Well, yea? What's your issue with Steve still, Billy it doesn't-"

"That isn't the problem, Jesus christ! It isn't just that I wanted to go talk to you and you were out with him. The problem is that you go around and make me feel these stupid fucking feelings I don't know what to do with, and I see you on a fucking date with a guy like Harrington!"

Oh. Oh.

There was something deeper about this, you knew from the start, but that wasn't the deep you thought it would be. Having Billy be at Steve's neck was something you expected. It was something you had grown accustomed to after everything, especially Starcourt. They could play nice with one another- well, as nice as they could. It was mainly Billy.

"That-" you pause, frozen sort of, if what he was insinuating was true, the he... "A date, with Steve?"

"The theatre."

He said it like you didn't know the word, and like he was losing patience. With you, or himself, you couldn't quite tell. Maybe both. You don't want to get angry with him because you know that will only escalate things further and if you antogonize him now, you may never get a proper answer or response out of him- and your family might just come barging in because of all the noise.

"You don't have to say it," he suddenly throws his head back, looking at your ceiling before bringing his head back down, his blue eyes looking directly in yours, and he looks tired, "It's his stupid fucking hair isn't it? Or whatever the fuck there is about him, I don't know. I came here with a purpose, to tell you, to make you mine. My girl. But-"

He lets out a breathe, an angry one, a frustrated one, one that could blow down a not too sturdy house if given the chance.

"What the fuck am I doing," he said it to himself mostly, but how could you not hear him, he was right there.

"Billy..." you want to reach out for him, to help, to make things better, but he's already pulling himself away.

He's good at that, pulling himself away.

"I gotta go, before my dad decides he wants to check if I'm in my room," he bitterly says, "crazy how he wants to seem like a parent sometimes; piece of shit." It had become quite apparent after Starcourt and Billy's almost death that his father was trying harder to put up appearances; he was still the same man, same abusive piece of shit, but now more people were aware. And that meant something.

Given everything, it was a shot in the dark for you to reach out and grab his wrist. Given his emotions, and the issues with his father, it really could have went one of two ways; he could've reacted badly like a caged animal, or he could've let it happen.

Thankfully it was the latter.

"No, don't," you spoke softly, a hint of pleading in your voice. His wrist is bigger than you realized as your fingers wrap around it; he has a watch on you note and his skin is warm, "Stay. We can talk about this, we should talk about it."

It stops him, you're surprised it does, but he looks at you, incredulous. To him, in that moment, there is nothing to talk about; he has likely made a fool of himself, his emotions always getting the better when he really needs them to stay down. His intention to make you his was gone the moment he came, because when he looks at you and thinks about it, about everything that has happened, he finds himself thinking- god forbid Steve Harrington finds out about this- that maybe he's the better choice.

Not because Steve Harrington is more attractive than him, or that Billy thinks he can't pull someone like you; he's always been fairly confident in himself on the outside. But things are different now. And there's something in him deeper that's more broken than it was before in some ways, he didn't think that was possible. Someone like you? You would only give him kindess, one that he's sure he'd somehow fuck up. He will ruin you like his dad ruined his mom. How can he be anything right now when his thoughts are plagued with a interdimensional being that should have killed him.

He should be dead.

"Y'see," he starts, already preparing to rip himself away, "I don't think there is. This was a shit idea."

"I wasn't on a date with Steve!"

It's the only thing you can think to say in that moment to stop him from leaving, because you don't want him to leave. You don't want him to go back to his father right now, or sit in his car somewhere in the dark, alone with thoughts that he so desperately wants to hide but overtime it begins to crack because one can't stay hidden forever. Especially not with the trauma he was holding onto.

It works, because he isn't moving anymore. Rigid like a board.

"I wasn't on a date with Steve," you repreat in a more calm and even voice now, dragging on his wrist to pull him away from a window, scared that he might just jump out of it anyway if you're not careful, "Steve, he... Sure, he asked me out before, I said no. That was forever ago, and I think he just wanted something to distract himself from Nancy, to feel like he moved on. But he's my friend still, and we were just going to see a movie. That's all that was. I don't like Steve that way."

The unspoken 'but I like you that way' is in the air but you haven't said it. For everything that happened between you and Billy, you're scared. You cared for him, more than some people thought you should. But you had never been one to let people's first interactions define them for the rest of their lives; it was a good thing you felt that way because if you hadn't then you could've very easily been like everyone else who saw him as Billy Hargrove: Asshole, King of the Keg and Hawkins, seriel flirter who was just bad.

It's sudden, but his large hands are suddenly cupping the back of your neck and head. He's gentle, but there's a forcefullness within his touch that makes a tingle run down your spine. Forced to look into his eyes deeply, you see so much. Eyes that he liked to keep empty are full of emotion in front of you.

"All I'm hearing," his voice is low, husky, something only you would be able to hear if there was anyone else in the room with you, "is that I have a chance."

It's so like him. So like him to make it a little less serious than it is. It's definitely a mechanism to dodge the conversations that might just make him uncomfortable, the ones he isn't used to or maybe hasn't even had. And that's okay right now, you'll let him have that for now.

"And that you jumped the gun," you offer back slyly, "it's kind of cute. You'll have to work on it though... And work on having some heart to hearts."

It's a subtle confirmation that you want him. You want him too, like how he wants you. And if he was anyone but himself, it might've made him cry. But instead, it just makes his smirk grow; no, not a smirk, it's a smile. He's so beautiful when he smiles. You wonder if anyone has ever told him he's beautiful; you add it to your list of things to tell him at some point. He's beautiful.

"Cute? You're killing me babe," he whines like he's a child, but you can see how giddy he secretly is inside and it only reaffirms what you said to yourself, "...I'll work on it."

"You deserve to be happy. And we can work on it, together."

Again. Its like you've read through him. Like you saw his thoughts and feelings on thinking maybe he should've died. Or feeling like he can't have this because he will just ruin it. There are no words he can scrounge up as his heart beats heavy in his chest. He can only put his forehead against yours.

It's silent for a few beats as he keeps his hands on the back of your neck, his head tilted down towards yours. It's odd to see him act that way, but it's not a bad odd. It's good. You want to see it more.

"So... My girl?"

He sounds so cocky, it makes you roll your eyes.

"Your girl."

626 notes View Post

izayanara

2 years ago

The Chance To Change

Summary: When he coincidentally walks back into your life, he’s determine to change the way things are

Pairing: Aomine Daiki x black!fem!reader

Word Count: 24, 909 😐🧍🏽‍♀️

Warnings: professional basketball player!aomine, bookstore!au kinda, lots of angst, lots of fluff, reader is oblivious, reader has trust issues at the beginning, aomine not knowing how to deal with his feelings, reader’s on her period at one point, reader is scared of like horror rides (sorry if you aren’t), lots and lots of kissing and making out, lots of intimacy, misunderstandings, smut: unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, lots and lots of confessions of love, aomine is very whipped for you, reader’s best friend is an oc, and aomine’s teammates are oc’s, lots of going back and forth in time, all characters are 21+, if I missed anything please let me know, I know that there’s gonna be typos in this and when it isn’t 3 am, I’ll get around to fixing them lol

A/N: Now. I can’t even begin to explain how or why I was able to write all of this. I’ve been working on this fic for about a month, and I was finally able to finish it (thank God bc I have so much work to do lmao). I know some parts might seem kinda rushed, but I can’t really bring myself to care bc I spent so much time on this and I’m just happy that’s it’s finished. Reblogs are greatly appreciated even though I know it might break your phone if you try to LMFAO, but if you read all this, I seriously appreciate it. And I definitely projected in this fic. This is also for @sintiva’s #theclockisticking collab, and thank you so much for letting me join!

Running a bookstore is something you’ve always wanted to do. It seems silly to most people, but you’ve always found small, quaint bookstores to be really peaceful, and it was always somewhere you could go when the world was always too much. Whenever you stepped inside, it was like the outside disappeared, and you were only surrounded by paper bound together that told a million stories.

You actually read through the entire bookstore in your town, and you had become so close with the owner, that they gave it to you after you graduated college. You were surprised, to say the least, and a little worried, not knowing much about running anything, let alone a business, but the owner was more than helpful with getting you into the swing of things.

Now, it’s like everything is second nature for you. Opening up the store and smelling that certain smell that books have that you’ve always loved. The small coffee shop you have in the corner is always a popular spot because it has a giant window that allows you to view the whole town. You’ve found yourself sitting in one of the comfortable chairs that are over there multiple times, watching the sunrise and seeing the city start to wake up.

Your co-worker/co-owner/best friend Mia always comes in about an hour after you do, always making a comment about how she doesn’t understand how you manage to wake up so early. You always brush it off with a roll of your eyes as you hand her a cup of coffee that you know she’ll need.

During the week, the place is usually quiet, a person every now and then, most of them coming in all of the time, so you know them by their schedules. You’re sitting at the front desk, reading a book, one of your favorites, even though it’s a cliché exes-to-lovers plotline, you always find yourself re-reading it whenever you have time.

Keep reading

688 notes View Post

izayanara

3 years ago

DREAM SMP CHARACTERS | TECHNOBLADE

5K notes View Post

izayanara

3 months ago

midoriya being reader's and bakugou's biggest cheerleader, rooting for them since day one!?!?!?! 😭💖 he literally watched his 2 friends grow up and fall in love...he's so happy for them 🥹💗 like imagine the waterworks when they tell him they're (finally) in a relationship...if anyone believes in their love, it's midoriya!!!! 💓

the way things go !

synopsis : izuku knows, he always has, but he'll let you both figure it out.

an. this is literally so cute i love this !! tysm for the ask, this is pretty late tho so super sorries about this if youre still sticking around anon :(( but i hope you (and all yall) enjoy!!

cw. fluffy fluff ! childhood friends YAAAAAAH—middle school katsuki lol, childhood to like second year of ua timeskip, lmk if there's anything else !

if he thinks hard enough, izuku midoriya can remember the exact moment he realised his best friend had fallen in love with you.

you'd gone from being a new addition to their little friend group to you guys being so tight knit that people automatically associated you all together, if one was around—the other two were always expected nearby, a little trio.

sure, izuku never wanted anybody to feel left out, but you and kacchan were his best friends forever. you all had sleep overs at katsuki's house and went out for ice cream, visit for birthdays and stay up late to watch tv and tell scary stories under the covers. katsuki always pulled mean little pranks afterwards which would always scare the pants off of izuku, you always reassured him though, saying katsuki was being stupid. he thought that it was really cool how you never seemed to get scared until he noticed how you'd jump sometimes, but he found you even cooler.

you were best friends forever, shown by the cool woven bracelets you'd gotten for your friends when you came back from a beach vacation with your family. kacchan had complained the entire time you were gone, calling everything boring without you, but he never said a word about it when you got back and smacked izuku on the arm hard when he'd tried to tell you how much they'd both missed you.

izuku had managed to rip his gaze off his bracelet, woven with green and shades of blue that matched the sea to look up at his friend to ask how he felt about his gift. katsuki's had hints of orange, reds and vibrant pinks and he didn't complain about it even though he always said it was a girl colour. red eyes like his bracelet fixed onto his arm.

"look and yours kinda looks like it has flames on it, see ? like your explosions !" you explained excitedly, and izuku couldn't help getting excited too. your humour was always contagious. "oh yeah, i see it !" he agreed and you look over at him to nod in approval, obviously proud of your choice. and izuku realised then that the blonde still hadn't said one word.

you didn't seem to mind though, still too excited from your trip and izuku's reaction to his gift. you stuck your arm against katsuki's and grabbed izuku's so he could stick it to his, all your multicoloured bracelets coming together to form a mess of jumbled up colours "see, now we all match !" you exclaimed.

katsuki's cheeks were pink, stained and blotchy even through the worn out little bandaid stuck to his cheek. and all he could manage then was a nod, katsuki who you'd always call a big mouth was speechless and just nodded. izuku thought that was really weird

"i like it." he mumbled out quietly, obviously realising that you were now both awaiting an answer from him "we match," he repeated "but mines cooler." he finished off, crossing his arms and huffing to the sky proudly. and you burst out laughing, little giggles spill out and you break out into a laugh as you lean onto izuku. he can't help himself from laughing either. katsuki tries, really does, but he ends up laughing a bit too, nudging at your leg with his foot when you call him a big mouth.

and for the entire rest of the day, kacchan had found some excuse or other to drag you around and hold your hand, saying something about how you'd get lost since you were gone for so long, izuku thought that was weird too since you were only gone too weeks, but he quickly forgot about it. it was still hot when you got back, so you went for ice cream with money miss mitsuki had given you all to celebrate your return, and had gone to your (not so) secret spot by the river bank to laze around after your bellies were full.

the wind breezed through his clothes as izuku remembered the taste of his two scoops on his tongue, sighing and feeling himself getting sleepy. he hears you and kacchan talking.

he's talking about how your bracelet looks more like his, so you two match more. "that means you gotta stay with me forever so . . don't leave again." he mumbles, izuku hears the tugging and pulling of grass roots "was boring without you here." before he quickly catches himself with an "that's what izuku said." and the green haired boy answered with a sleepy "uhuh . . " that makes you giggle.

"i can ask my mom if you and izuku can come next time !" you chirp excitedly and you've always been contagious, so izuku responds again with a sleepy "yaaay . ." that makes you laugh.

when school started back up, katsuki had been quick to rip off his jacket and show off his bracelet to your friends, shown off by the short sleeved t-shirt he was wearing. always proud to answer the question of where'd gotten his cool new bracelet with a loud "yn got it for me from when she went on her trip, i bet she didn't get you anything !"

always proud and showing off was a kacchan that izuku knew all too well. but it was always about himself, never about others. and yet here he was showing off your gift to anybody who would listen because you were best friends. izuku thinks he truly realised, not then, but during lunch break when kacchan had pushed a boy to the ground because he'd made fun of his bracelet and called it girly.

"not true !" he'd yelled "you're just mad 'cus yn didn't get you nothin' and she likes me more then you. i bet you're just jealous 'cus she hates you, she told me you stink !"

and that's when he knew. because all three of you were always together and izuku had never ever heard you say that. but it seemed that to katsuki, being hated by you was the worst thing imaginable.

and that's when he knew.

and to him it was only natural for katsuki, one of the coolest people he knew, to have a crush on the other coolest person he knew. but when he'd asked kacchan about it after school, he'd punched him in the shoulder and told him "n-no ! shut up, quit talking stupid !" even as his cheeks turned beet red and he trudged off to go grab his backpack.

there was no doubt about it, you had a crush on each other.

izuku knows it, he knows you both know it. so why don't you do anything about it ?! it's sorta been driving him crazy.

he sees it all. sure, him and kacchan don't actually hang out anymore, but you and izuku still hang out and he sees them. the looks, the almost touches and the teasing and the shoulder nudges and—seriously, does nobody else see this ?!

but he'll keep quiet, he won't force you to do anything, he'll let you both take your time. but it seems the blond has been getting more and more impatient with himself.

"hey, nerd." izuku jumps despite himself at the rough voice from above him, looking up and quickly hiding his notebook from his ex-childhood friend.

"k-kacchan, hey ! didn't expect to see you here, heh . ." he trails off, eyes darting to the side. and izuku really hadn't expected to see him, kacchan wasn't the type to stay after class, always ready to walk you home when school was out. he feels his hands shaking and clenches onto his uniform pants. katsuki ignores the boy's attempt at friendly conversation, scoffing.

"what's your deal, huh ?" uh oh, izuku panics—what had he done ? he doesn't remember doing anything to anger him.

"i don't know what you're talking about, ka—"

a hand slams against his desk, startling the green haired boy and he almost jumps out of his skin.

"don't fuck with me ! y'know good and goddamn well what i'm talking about."

"but i—"

and then your name gets brought up "ya keep fuckin' staring at her all the time. what, you like her or something ?"

wait, what.

"huh ?"

"don't huh me," katsuki copies with a nasally voice "s'bad enough she wants to hang with you all the time, now you want more ?!"

oh, wait.

"just so you know, she doesn't like the nerdy type so you can go ahead and—" katsuki cuts himself off when he sees izuku smile, a smile he in his mind can only imagine as a smug one, so he scowls " quit makin' that creepy fuckin' face at me, weirdo ! i'll tell you right now—you haven't won and i damn sure won't lose ! never to a nerd like you, you got that ?!" he declared, before stomping out of the classroom.

izuku despite the obvious declaration of war he has no want to be part in, can't help but smile. "you've got nothing to worry about." he mutters to himself.

it'll be fine, he'll let you take your time—he has a feeling it won't be for much longer anyway.

"good morning, yn."

"hi, izuku."

you insist on not looking him in the eye when you speak, and izuku who's known you for years by now, immediately knew something was up.

you're here early, the common room is empty beside you and him right now "how'd you sleep ?" you ask, sipping on some juice. izuku hums, fixing his tie for class, you beckon him over and lean over to fix it for him which he thanks you for with an added shy chuckle.

and it's quiet.

izuku takes a spot next to you, "you know, you can talk to me about anything right ? i don't wanna assume but you look a bit bothered by something." your best friend smiles warmly at you when you make eye contact "i'm here if you need anything."

you squirm in your seat and then finally you spit your next sentence out at super speed "katsuki and i have liked each other for a while now and he asked me out and i said yes !"

"I KNEW IT!" the green haired's exclamation knocks you back and he flies up from his seat, he smiles down at you victoriously like he'd just defeated a villain.

"i knew you guys had been acting different, it was just too obvious ! always looking at each other for long periods of time—and sneaking off and standing so close to each other, it all makes sense !" and you're struck absolutely silent, he rambled and rambled on like he was taking notes for his hero notebook—seriously, how much did he know ?!

"w-wait but—you knew that we liked each other ?" you ask. izuku sits back down, even clears his throat after his little outburst, and smiles at you.

"oh yeah, i've known that for a while now !"

". . how long is a while ?"

". . a couple years."

"oh." you conclude. "i'm sorry i never told you, zuku . .s'just that i know that you and katsu's relationship was . . more than a bit strained so . ."

izuku immediately frown in shock "what, no it's not—you shouldn't have to apologise ! that was between kacchan and i so—" and he stops in his tracks "is that why it took you guys so long to . ."

now you're cutting him off "no, no that's not it ! i just never really had the courage to say anything !" you shyly rub at your glass "and honestly, i had no idea he even liked me like that . ."

surely you had to be messing with him. izuku sweatdrops at you without a word.

"well anyway, i'm glad you too are happy, truly." he utters sincerely. you smile back at him with a giggle and your humour's always been contagious, so he laughs along with you.

and when he sees you and kacchan walking to class holding hands he can't help but throw up a victorious fist up, leaving his friends a little bit confused.

(afterwards during training with katsuki, he wishes him a playful congratulations on winning, the blonde proceeding to punch his arm hard and izuku couldn't help but laugh. until katsuki chucked his water bottle at him.)

taglist ! :

@napbatata @andysdrafts @queenpiranhadon @jastoo46 @cecelia77

@katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba

@moonshuul @erenstitanweave @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam

@aspiringwriter1111 @sugurusmoon @redvelvetstan1

@niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia

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izayanara

2 years ago

nsfw

He finally- after months of fucking his fist with you on his mind- has you underneath him, clad in nothing but his old tshirt and legs lifted over his broad shoulders; he slides in you with a delighted shiver.

Only sliding in seemed a bit too easy— considering you were a virgin. And his first thought is to grit his teeth and bare them angrily because you’re his. He made fucking sure of it- no one should’ve touched you because you. are. his.

But his clenched jaw loosens at your shaky touch, mouth falling slack when you whimper out a small “p-prepped myself b-before you g-got here…wanted you, wanted all of you…please keep going!”

And he groans, unrestrained and near desperate, “Oh? You stuffed your tiny little fingers in your pretty hole just for me? Next time you’ll let me watch, wontcha? Gotta see it— fuck I wanna see you prep yourself for my cock- only mine- you understand? Yeah? That’s right baby, now scream it. I want the fuckin neighbors to hear who you belong to.”

Draken, Ran, SHINICHIRO, Wakasa, Izana, AOMINE, Himuro, Imayoshi, DAZAI, Chuuya, Nikolai, GRIMMJOW, Ichigo/Hichigo, TOJI, GOJO, GETO, Noritoshi, Tengen, SANEMI, Akaza, Gyutaro, TSUKISHIMA, Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Atsumu/Osamu, or ur fav <3

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izayanara

3 years ago

you lied

i redrew that old ghostbur piece out of spite lol

(old painting under ‘read more’)

(PLEASE DON’T COPY/EDIT/USE/REPOST, REBLOG INSTEAD)

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izayanara

2 years ago

AA!!!!

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izayanara

2 years ago

Break a Sweat - Billy Hargrove

Summary: Billy teaches fem!reader how to play basketball, and he makes sure reader gets nice and sweaty so they can shower afterwards.

Warnings: Heavy petting, slight fingering, and implied sex.

A/N: Billy!

“So, how many points do I get if I throw it here?” You asked as you bounced the ball. It nearly managed to escape you, but you grabbed it back two steps past where you were supposed to keep still.

Billy stood to your right and laughed, “Two points,” He said, taking a step back to get behind you. “That’s only if you make it.”

You swiveled around with your eyebrows raised and mouth agape that let out a playful scoff. “You don’t think I can make it?”

He teasingly sized you up; glancing from your loose shoelaces to your baggy t-shirt, then to your wide eyes that dared him to say anything other than encouraging words. Though, Billy wasn’t about to play into your game. Not when he could play his own, win, and get a prize at the end. He just had to make you work a little harder to get to the start line.

“Definitely not,” He returned the banter in truth. His foot reached out and tapped at your ankle. “Wider,” He smirked. “Bend your knees a little,” You followed his instructions, peering over your shoulder every so often to smile at him. “Try it now.”

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