One More Moment - B.H.

a/n: here's a little angst one shot for you guys as an apology for how slow I'm being rn with requests and a lil something while yall wait. I was super depressed and just couldn't help and couldn't write requests it I needed to do something so I wrote this instead. I hope y'all like it ilysm 💗

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Length: 1.3k

Warnings: Depression, grieving, death mention, Billy is dead in this, mention of suicide, suicidal thoughts lowkey.

The air is cold. It's the end of fall, and winter is rearing its head. Ready to take over and cover Hawkins in snow and ice.

Two things he hated.

He hated colder weather. He hated Hawkins.

Yet he's stuck here now, forever.

You blow some air onto your cold hands, stepping in front of the tombstone.

William Hargrove.

No one ever called him that. Not one person. Except maybe his dad sometimes. But even then, it was a word used to show hate.

To tie him down.

You always wondered why they wrote William, not Billy on his grave.

Maybe it was because it was his legal full name. Or maybe it was because his father never knew his son enough, loved his son enough, to write the name he always went by. Billy. A way to dehumanize him further than he had already done for eighteen years.

You didn't know. But anyone who knew him knew he never answered to William.

No one used to go to the cemetery. You used to never go to the cemetery. It's mostly older graves for older people. People who were at an age that they were ready to die. But more recently the cemetery started to fill with people who were too young to be here. People who still had lives to live, had people to love, had a chance to be happy. To change.

People like Heather Holloway, Barbara Holland...

Billy Hargrove.

Max had been there recently. You see the remnants of an empty cassette beside the stone. She had started bringing them.

No music on them. His cassettes were too precious now. Too raw to give up, even to his own grave. But music meant something. Those cassettes meant something.

It sort of felt like a connection between herself and the dead brother in the ground- one they didn't get to grow before he died.

Maybe one day Max can let his real cassettes go.

You hope so. It's what you're here to do.

To let go.

To try to let go.

You crouch in front of the stone on cold and dying grass. The fallen leafs from trees skitter around with the wind, performing a weird dance together. It breaks the silence in the graveyard.

"Hey Billy..."

Your voice is soft. So quiet, it's almost as if you didn't speak at all. His name sounds foreign on your lips, but all to familiar at the same time. His name is like a curse and a blessing. You could hardly stand to hear it, but the longer you didn't hear it, the more the boy behind the name really faded away.

He was fading.

And eventually, one day in the future, his grave would be another grave with a name no one recognized; one that no one visited.

You clear your throat, suddenly it's gone dry; it feels like you've been in the desert for months, no water in sight.

"How are you?"

He doesn't answer of course. He's not really there. Yes, the body six feet under is his but its not him. Him is somewhere far away. A place you can't reach.

But this is as close as it gets.

Be always hated small talk like this. But he doesn't have a choice but to listen in silence now.

"I'm..." you want to say you're good, but you're not. You aren't sure you'll ever be good again- it's why you need to to this, "okay."

Okay was safe. It was a non-answer. A lie but not a lie.

You dig your hand into your coats pocket, looking for the rectangular item in your pocket; when your fingers touch it, it burns- it hurts. But that's why you're here. To stop the hurt. To...

"I'm leaving," you say it like you're breaking the ice to your boyfriend.

In some way you are- he was your boyfriend. Is... Was. You can't date a dead man.

"I don't think... I can't stay in Hawkins anymore," you miserably offer to the grave in front of you. You're speaking to dead space- but you need to do it.

Leaving and not telling him feels like a betrayal. Even if it's a stone in the ground- it's... He's...

"I'm sorry," you pull your hand from your pocket, a cassette held tightly in your hands, fingers digging into it- you could break it if you're not careful, "I know Max leaves you empty tapes sometimes. But I thought you might like one with music for once."

It's a tape with a dozen songs. One that you had made with him long ago, in the beginning months of your relationship. Back when things were brighter, when the world around you was colourful and when life seemed to have some hope within it.

Back before Hawkins took everything you loved.

"I can't keep it anymore," the air leaves your lungs shakily- you can feel the emotions building up in your chest, begging to be let out. But if you did that now, you know you won't be able to do this.

And you need to do it.

At first you couldn't. Couldn't listen to it, couldn't look at it. It held all your favourite songs and his favourite songs which would subsequently also become your favourites. You couldn't even listen to music for a while after because it stung. It hit too deep, bled too much. It was something you enjoyed doing with him in his room, in his Camaro. Anywhere.

It didn't bring you happiness anymore; it only deepened the gaping wound that he had left when he died.

But over time you listened to it again. One song a day. Till you listened to it all. And then you listened again, and again, on repeat. In your car, in your room, anywhere.

The songs became an escape. One where when you closed your eyes and blocked everything else out, you could imagine in those minutes that he was right there. That he was laying with you. Or standing behind you and putting his hands in your jeans pockets pulling you close.

Sometimes you swore you could feel him. Feel his touch. Smell is cologne. Feel his love.

But then the songs would end. And your eyes would open and everything was grey again.

Everything hurt again.

Because he wasn't there. And he wouldn't ever be there again. You were only fooling yourself; using this tape as an escape from a reality you needed to face. You were fading away, just like he was, but you were still living in all ways that mattered medically.

Beating heart, pumping blood, functioning limbs, warm skin.

The other half of you was dead.

It would kill you.

He would kill you, even in death, Billy Hargrove was your greatest weakness. And he'd kill you if you didn't stop.

Maybe you should have let him. But he'd be angry. So, so angry. And Max too. Your family. Friends.

At what point did you stop your own hurt instead of stopping others hurt?

Closing your eyes as tight as you can, you place the tape onto the grave in front of you. It feels like a weight is lifted, but at the same time, like a new one has arisen.

It is pain. It is hurt. It is agony. It is a love that you can't ever express the way you want to because he's not there to recieve it. It is a darkness that threatens you and tells you this is the wrong choice.

But you need to. To let him go, to get away. Before Hawkins (and the ghost of a dead man) swallows you whole. Drowns you.

"Take care of it, please."

You know the weather will destroy the tape. Maybe it will find its way back to him wherever he is- wherever death takes you. You can't say where, you don't know where. Anything could be possibly considering all Hawkins had shown you.

When you stand and turn away, hand still burning metaphorically from where the tape had been, the wind blows a harsh gust. It goes through you like you're a rickety old house, holes and all, just a skeleton.

It's cold. But it feels like you're being wrapped up by the wind into a hug. For one moment, a single, fleeting moment, you aren't alone.

Then it's gone. Just like everything else. The wind dies down as quickly as it came, and its quiet again, the leaves settling. You're alone.

Hawkins couldn't have you. You wouldn't let it. No matter how much part of you wanted it to take you.

All you needed was one more moment with him. And that was it.

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.

1K notes View Post

izayanara

2 years ago

ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ + ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:ᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ.

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: ᴍɪᴅᴏʀɪᴍᴀ ꜱʜɪɴᴛᴀʀᴏ, ᴀᴏᴍɪɴᴇ ᴅᴀɪᴋɪ, (ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʟᴏʟ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱʜɪɴᴛᴀʀᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʀᴏᴄᴋʏ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏɴ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ, ʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴ ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ.

[AN: my uni just started to updates might be slow. the beginning is a little show because i just want the plot laid out. thank you so much for all the support on this! i didn't think this would get that much traction but it makes me so happy!]

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

≿━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━≾

Shintaro watched you as you sat in front of the vanity mirror, the lights along the mirror illuminating your face as you gently rubbed in the moisturizer on your face. Your hand reached over to close the lid of the moisturizer jar, gliding past the products in front of it as if they had never existed. He hated that. Every time you reached past the plethora of makeup products displayed on the vanity table, he felt a punch in his gut. He had spent hundreds, even thousands, to get you the most high-end makeup. Gucci, Dior, Chanel. Every luxury brand that existed on the market, yet you reached over for a generic drug store tube of lipstick each time. You wore the plain nude shade, barely visible on your lips. Despite the many vibrant, bright and dark colours in front of you, your hand always made its way to the nude shade. He had suggested and even begged you to wear more - a little mascara or eye shadow - but you refused. Every time it was the same lipstick—no matter where you were going. Just like your choice in colours, Shintaro began to find you… boring. Dull. Plain. Uninteresting. He hated it, and in a way, hated you—your simplicity. You never wore the racy lingerie he got you - aside from special occasions, but even those had become rare. Life with you had started to become a chore: the same routine, the same conversations - you'd ask about his day, ask what tea he would like to drink, ask about coworkers - it was like being trapped in a loop. Because of your simplicity, it was easy to notice every detail about you - if you switched to a new perfume, shampoo, and clothes. So when he saw the one vibrant red lipstick tube out of its usual place, he immediately knew what was happening. He cleared his throat as he tightened his tie, fixing his suit in the floor-length mirror. The joint walk-in closet was pretty spacious, with enough room for your vanity table and enough space for him to get ready. It was your idea to have that. You had said that it brought you closer, that it was a very intimate gesture to get in front of each other. "You finally wore that Dior lipstick, huh?" He spoke up, not looking away from the mirror. "Yes. It's a lovely colour." Shintaro was taken aback. He didn't expect you to reply so quickly - actually, he didn't expect you to reply at all. He turned towards you. You had your jewelry box open and were going through it, trying to find a pair of earrings. The event was black-tie, so he assumed you would wear the pearl earring his mother had gotten you - making him confused as to why you were going through the jewelry box since you kept the pearl earrings on the ceramic tray by your perfumes. He inhaled. He knew why the lipstick was out of place - a reason that made his stomach uneasy - but he couldn't muster up the courage to say it, to hear those words come out of his mouth. "Have you seen my Swarovski set? The one with the necklace-" "Who is he?" Shintaro asked, turning towards you. You didn't turn around, staring at his reflection in the mirror in front of you. You stared into his green eyes, seeing rage beginning to frost his vision. You took a deep breath and looked down at the jewelry box, keeping your composure. "I thought you we weren't gonna tell," You replied as you closed the jewelry box, getting up from the chair and walking to one of the closest to your right. "I remember you explicitly laying out rules about this," You opened the closet door and began to push back the few boxes on the shelf in the closet. You paused to pull out a velvety box from the back, smiling before turning around and walking to the vanity. "Or does that only apply to you and the coworkers you fuck?" You asked as you opened the box. Shintaro took in a deep breath. He turned around and began to fidget with his cuffs, looking at his reflection and trying to regulate his breathing. "Is she going to be there?"

"y/n-" "Is she?" "What's gotten into you?!"

It took a moment for Shintaro to realize that he had raised his voice. He turned to you, face feeling flushed and heart thumping in his chest. Your eyes hadn't left the mirror, watching as you put in the stud for the earrings.

"Uber back," You said as you closed the purple box in front of you. "I'm taking the car."

There were only three rules to your arrangement.

Not with anyone you know. Not in the house. Not revealing anything. You figured Shintaro made those rules under the guise that you wouldn't participate - how could you, a doting wife like you, participate in such an act? - or at least, the version of you that Shintaro liked thought that.

You wanted to have hope that by the end of the arrangement, you would be back to normal, putting this whole thing behind and moving on - but the more it went on, the more that vision faded.

None of you had followed the rules. You could smell Mei around the house, thankful that Shintaro had the decency not to fuck his mistress on your bed. You weren't a saint either, fucking your husband's friends on the kitchen counter before going and sleeping next to your husband as if nothing happened. The only rule yet to be broken was the last one—not telling each other anything. But what was the point when you knew that your husband was fucking his younger coworker on the same couches he sat down and had tea with you on?

You'd had enough.

You had Daiki's number from the times he'd babysat Kota. Too nervous to call, you sent a text.

'r u free tonight?'

Immediately you got a reply.

'i'm free after 6.'

'come to my place at 6:30. shintaro is out for a meeting.'

295 notes View Post

izayanara

2 months ago

☆°.Pairing: Bakugou x reader

☆°.Summary: A gender swap quirk allows you to live your fantasies..

☆°.Note: it's not a body swap quirk, Bakugou is still in his body, you are still in yours except genders have been swapped...

Bakugou can feel your eyes on him, it's matter of time before you verbalize your thoughts to him, he just hope he has long enough to get out of here before you do.

"So..." He doesn't, internal turmoil interrupted by your voice, as he looks up to a sleazy expression painting on your face.

"Stop fucking mewing." He grits out, teeth grinding against each other, you let out a snort, the quirk mishap really turned one of your fantasies real, you'll just have to convince Bakugou.

"Please, baby." You pouted, hands reaching out for his cheek, not much softer then usual, his expansive skincare routine to thank. Your eyes dart down, glancing at his cleavage, they were bigger though, bigger than usual. Feeling your pants tightening, you knew you had to hurry.

For a moment, he contemplated, it was still you and him, letting out a sigh, he uncrossed his arm, tentatively meeting your eyes only to see you oogling his tits.

"Fucking perver-"

"No, baby please." You wrap your arms around him,"we don't get these opportunities often, think about it." You try to convince him, prospect of having sex like this making precum ooze out of your cock.

He can already feel his underwear sticking to his folds, the quirk last for 3 days, 2 have already gone by, so this really is the last day to try it. He hadn't allowed you to touch him at all, stating all this was too weird, that doesn't mean he didn't touch himself, the thought of having sex is this state made him abuse his clit in the silent hours of the night.

Fuck it, he thinks before pulling your hairs and pressing his lips against yours, wasting no time you tightened your arm around his waist, other hand reaching to cradle his cheek.

He lets out a hiss, feeling an unfamiliar heat bubbling in his belly, he pulls away to breathe, you take the opportunity to litter kisses along his jaw, hand sliding down to squeeze his boob, fingers swirling around his nipple.

You hands reach down, grasping the edges of his shirt, slowly lifting it, he pulls away, hands pushing at your chest, face flushed red, chest heaving as he tired to slow his rapid breathes.

"You take your shirt off first," he mumbles, eyes refusing to meet yours, you want to tease him, but you bite your tongue, instead wordlessly moving to pull your shirt over your head and shimmying out of your pants. You stand infront of him, clad on in tight boxers, the stain due to precum more prominent than the outline of your hardened cock.

"This good, baby?" You move towards him, taking his palms and pressing them against your chest, "Feel this," you shift his hands to press against your racing heart, "and that." Dragging his hands down all the way to your cock, "all this for you, because of you."

His breath hitches, head lolling to the side, he slowly pushes his shorts along with underwear down, "I want to keep the shirt on." He mutters, finally meeting your eyes, moving to stand on his toes to press a kiss against your jaw.

"Whatever you want, baby." You let out a sigh, his trail of kisses leaving you light headed, his hands reach your underwear, fingertips grazing your cock, you take the hint, pulling them off.

Bakugou takes your cock in his hands, caressing the pink tip with his thumb, kneeling down he locks his eyes with you, pretty little tongue coming out to lick at your precum, he suckles on head of your cock, before spitting on his palms and stroking the base of it.

The sight of him on his knees ends up being too much for you, he chokes a little at the spontaneity of your orgasm, thick gooey cream spurted against his lips. You stare at him, eyes wide trying to decipher what happened.

"You didn't really get time to learn how to hold back eh," he spoke cheekily, fingers wiping away your cum from his jaw before his hand trails down to his pussy, smearing the cum on his clit, letting out low moans as he his pace quickened.

"You looked pretty," you pouted, proceeding to kneel in front of him, pulling his hand away from his clit and bringing it to your mouth, "let me make you cum." You pull him closer, one arm around his waist pulling his body flush to yours, other hand pressing quick circles on his clit.

You trace his hole, lathering your fingers up in his slick, before sinking them in, he lets out a moan, hand coming to grasp at your shoulders. You hum against his neck, curling your fingers inside him, thumb pressing against his clit.

"Ple-please," he begs, hips rutting forward, greedy little cunt chasing after your fingers.

"gonna cum, baby," you fasten your finger, thumb abusing his clit,"gonna soak my hand, huh?"

"-m gonna cum, plea-" he barely even finishes, before his cums around your finger, body stiffening as he rides out his high, toes curling when you don't ease up your thumb, poor clit stimulated to the point where he is clawing at your wrists.

"Sto- stop, please, I came," clear fluid gushes out of his hole, puddling on the floor, his head lolling back, eyes crossing.

You slow down your hand, before slowly pulling away, him frame still cradled in your arms, breathing heavy.

He lifts his head, hazy eyes locking with yours, "yer' mean," he pouts, fully settling his weight onto your body, too weak to move around.

"had to cherish her," your fingers glid through his folds, before he smacks your hand away, cunt too sore for any stimulation.

"perv" he mumbles sleepily, getting too comfortable in your arms.

"we still have to clean up, ya know." You don't get an answer back, looking down only to find him fast asleep against your chest.

You grab a discarded shirt, wiping away your hands, before running them through his hairs, slowly moving so you were laying down comfortably away from the bodily fluids.

486 notes View Post

izayanara

2 years ago

Hard Boy

Billy Hargrove x fem!reader

(My work is not to be copied or transfered. However, you may reblog the shit out of it.)

Warnings: reader getting bullied, Billy being sweet in his own odd way, unedited,

Hawkins thought of Billy Hargrove in many ways. Asshole. Lady's man. Man whore. But they didn't know him like you knew him. They knew his front, his shield of armor, protective guard. You knew him for who he really was. Your best friend.

He leaned across the car and opened the passenger door for you from the inside, taking your bag and tossing it in the back. You thanked him, sliding in to the passengers seat and receiving many dirty - and jealous - looks from other people in the school parking lot.

"Have a good day?" He recited it as if it were only custom but you knew him well enough to know he really meant it. "Nope. Where's Max?"

He glanced at you through the rearview mirror as he sped off, eyes holding the faintest shimmer of concern. "With a friend or something, I don't know. Why not?" You shrugged, turning to look out the window so he didn't see the way tears were starting to pool.

Billy slammed on brakes in the middle of the road, a couple miles from school, shielded between two stretches of wood. If someone were to come barreling around the corner like he had...well, it wouldn't be good. "Billy what are you doing? Drive."

He snatched your jaw up in his hand, fingers gentle but actions alarming as he forced you to look at him. One glimpse to his beautiful face and the tears were spilling over. Running down your cheeks and ruining your makeup.

Neither of you spoke. Billy just sat there, firmly holding your face, watching your cry. It was embarrassing and you tried to yank away but he wouldn't let you. "Who?" Your brows furrowed in confusion, prompting him to clarify.

"Who did it?" You shook your head, best you could. A silent no that had him scowling at you. He dropped your face and threw the car back in drive, speeding off again after what felt like forever.

"We're going to get slurpies," he informed, eyes on the road though you could see the hardness to them behind his glasses. "and you're going to tell me what happened. Nobody just gets to make my girl cry."

You nodded, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your hoodie. Billy was rough, but he cared. And you were more than thankful for that.

Taglist ♡

@storytellingwitht @valeriiecameron @stcrkeyluvr @onenightnorth @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @mackenzielovee @lovelyjj @fiction-is-life @goldenjo @randomwriter14 @slutforsmutsstuff @snipsx @iluvblondeboys @drewbooooo @elizabitchsshit @i-always-come-back-xoxo @topperscumslut @itsalexwin @gillybear17 @loveyru @babypoguelife @hoodforcalum @bethoconnor @kayleiggh @samxslaughter @chaostudee @outerbankspov @onmykneesforrafe @lovingrosewho @maybanks-luver @thatswaggybitch @truewdw1

1K notes View Post

izayanara

2 years ago

Good. Mmm.

Miscommunication

Yan!Douma, Yan!Akaza, Yan!Kokushibo, Yan!Muzan x FEM!reader

Masterlist Donations

Word count: 6.2K Warning(s): Not proof read, so expect a few grammar mistakes, Yandere themes, mentions of gore, mentions of death, yandere behavior, dark themes, Douma. A/N: These four have been on my mind for a while and since my mother tongue isn’t English, I thought it would be funny to write something with a language barrier. Everything the three upper moons say are in Japanese, everything the reader says is in whatever language you want.

Foreign.

That was the word of the month.

You were in a foreign country, with a foreign language, surrounded by foreign people.

What should’ve been a trip to enrich your cultural knowledge turned into a story straight out one of your father’s horror novels. You came to Japan with little to no knowledge of the country and its residents. First mistake. You did bother to learn some of the words they spoke. It felt itchy on your tongue when you spoke them. You couldn’t get your mouth in the correct position to articulate the letters, being too familiar with the English pronunciation and resulting in a thick accent lacing everything you said in the foreign tongue. You didn’t see it as important to learn the language, as long as you could excuse yourself in a polite way and say hello and goodbye it would be fine. Second mistake.

Keep reading

1K notes View Post

izayanara

2 years ago

Do you have any good exophilia blog recommendations? Love your blog! It gives me a lot of life! <3

First of all, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to respond. My week has been insane. Second...omg, thank you so much. I'm glad you enjoy it!

I have a TON of blogs, but it will take me a minute to compile them in a list. However, I will be happy to do so and tag you in it when I do!

343 notes View Post

izayanara

2 years ago

How the big three (three musketeers??) would try and convince you to quit your shitty job

one 'cute little housewife' from billy but reader is otherwise gn, some mysoginy from billy as a treat if you squint but not much also what do you expect lol

You know that friend that when you bring up your boyfriend they're like "dump him"?? That's Stevie. You breathe one word about your day at work being subpar and he's like "oh my god that sucks they shouldn't treat you like that, you should quit" when you protest he DOUBLES DOWN. "C'mon, you should quit. You don't need to work there, I'll buy you whatever you want. Bank of Harrington, the only interest is kisses." He loves spoiling you, you know he does, and he watches you seriously considering it. He'll offer to take you shopping right now to tip the scales, hyping you up and picking out the cutest stuff that perfectly fits your taste. "You could wear this next monday, we can go to the movies, keep me company while I drive the kids around..." You tell him you have work next monday and he gives you one of those looks "You don't have to." He's so hot and so caring and so good at babying you it's incredibly hard not to fold immediatley.

Eddie pulls you into his lap first thing. Right off the bat, he pulls you close to him to straddle his thighs. He's looking at you with that attentive sweet look, clearly paying full attention and equally in love with you while you tell him about your day. You're laughing at something ridiculous and terrible that happened and he's laughing with you and you think you're on the same page and then he hits you with the "Screw them. Quit." you start to laugh and he does too but you can see a little bit of seriousness behind his eyes. He squeezes your waist and continues "You're my muse. I need you here so I can write songs, come up with good lyrics." He runs his hands up and down your waist, he knows it's working, so he kicks up the dramatics, dipping you and declairing, "The future of corroded coffin depends on it..." pecking your lips. He's not shy about telling you how inspired you make him, he never has been, and you're sure his bandmates would be overjoyed that Eddie has his muse with him full time.

With Billy, he really, really likes playing house with you. If you tell him someone at your job did anything, made your day harder, upset you, said something rude, gossiped about you, you can see the change on his face instantly. He starts picking you up and dropping you off more often than he did, figuring out which coworkers he needs to send intimidating glares to. if you have a rough day he will ABSOLUTELY drop what he's doing and cover you with kisses. He'll rub your back and pull you to sit on his lap and rub his thumb over your cheek. "You should just fucking quit. Fuck them." You tell him it wasn't that bad, just one bad day, but he's been noticing more and more bad days recently. "Hey. Look at me." he guides you to look up at him, locking eyes with that intense eye contact of his. "You don't deserve to be treated like that, and those bastards sure as hell don't deserve someone as great as you." You smile and he does too. "You know, you could just quit. Stay here and be my cute little housewife..." you giggle and he bites your neck, telling you how cute you'd look cooking together while you wear his shirts.

682 notes View Post

izayanara

3 years ago

“i am a monument to all your sins” is such a fucking raw line for a villain it’s amazing that it came from halo, a modernish video game, and not some classical text or mythos

560K notes View Post