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rootedinrevisions · 19 days ago

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Just...Stay

SUMMARY: When he rolls back into her life every few months, Tyler Owens brings with him all the irresistible charm and warmth that first captured her heart, leaving her breathless and hoping for more. But as the years slip by, so do his promises, and every departure leaves her with another fracture in her heart and fewer illusions about the man she loves. Caught between the comfort of the life she’s built and the pull of the only man who’s ever felt like home, she must finally decide: will she wait for him one last time, or find the courage to let go and forge a path on her own? PART 2 HERE

Inspired loosely by "All the Cowboys" by Alexandra Kay.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: Angst. Unrequited love. Mentions of/Implied Smut.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The screen door creaked as you settled onto the back porch steps, the sun beginning to dip beneath the horizon. You held the phone close, balancing it between your shoulder and ear as you traced absent circles on the weathered wood with your fingertip.

Your mom’s voice crackled on the other end, warm and familiar. “You’ve been keeping busy out there?”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, Mama. Got a load of wash done, fixed that fence post that was leaning. Even tried to fix the gutter on the barn.”

She chuckled. “You sound like you’re doing just fine then. So, what’s got you out on that porch, calling me like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders?”

You hesitated, glancing out at the fields stretching endlessly before you, caught between the quiet beauty of dusk and the ache you felt blooming inside. “I don’t know, Mama,” you said, almost whispering. “Just feeling a little lost, I guess.”

There was a long pause on the other end, and you could almost hear her piecing it together. “You saw him again, didn’t you?”

A sigh escaped you, a mix of regret and resignation. “Yeah, I did. He was just… there, like nothing had changed.” You shook your head, remembering the way he’d looked at you, that familiar glint in his eye. “I know what you’re gonna say, Mama.”

She didn’t hesitate. “That boy’s no good. He comes ‘round whenever he pleases, but he leaves just as quick. You can’t be holding out for someone like that, honey.”

You felt your chest tighten, the truth of her words hitting harder than you’d like to admit. “I know, Mama. Believe me, I know.” You picked at a loose thread on your sleeve, fingers fidgeting. “But when he’s here… it’s like I forget all that. I forget how many times he’s done this before, how I feel every time he leaves.” Your voice grew softer, thick with frustration. “And then he’s gone, and it feels like… like there’s this empty spot he left behind.”

There was a pause before she spoke again, her voice gentle but firm. “Why do you let him do this to you, sweetheart?”

You exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. Maybe I keep hoping it’ll be different. That maybe… he’ll stay.” The words sounded hollow even as you said them.

You could feel her weighing her response, the silence heavy between you. “Honey, some people just aren’t made to stay. They get what they need and they’re gone, leaving folks like you to pick up the pieces.” She paused, and you could almost see her shaking her head. “But that doesn’t make it right.”

A lump formed in your throat as you thought of Tyler driving off into the sunset, no promises, no goodbyes—just gone. You let out a weary breath, looking down at the chipped paint on the porch step beneath you.

“Why do they always leave, Mama? Every time things get good, he just vanishes.”

“Oh, honey…” She sighed, the sound deep and knowing. “It’s in some folks’ nature to chase what they don’t have, always looking for something else just over the next hill. Doesn’t mean you have to keep getting hurt by it, though.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the truth settle heavily in your chest. The silence stretched on, filled only by the chirping of crickets and the fading warmth of the sun. You knew your mother was right, but as you sat there, a small part of you still hoped that maybe, just maybe, he’d come back one day and stay.

The memory came back in a slow, aching wave. Just two nights ago, you and Tyler lay tangled up together under the sheets, his arm wrapped tightly around you. The world felt quiet in those moments, like the whole world had shrunk to just the two of you, his warm skin against yours, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

You tilted your head up to look at him, his face softened in the dim light. “So… how long are you sticking around this time?” you asked, half-joking, though you both knew the question carried a heavier weight.

Tyler’s gaze drifted, his lips twitching in that familiar, evasive way. “Maybe longer this time,” he mumbled, though he couldn’t quite meet your eyes when he said it. Instead, his thumb traced absent circles over your shoulder, a touch meant to soothe but only deepening the pit forming in your stomach.

You wanted to believe him, wanted to hold on to that maybe, but his tone, that shift in his eyes as he looked away—it was the same pattern, the same script. You’d been through this dance too many times not to recognize the truth hiding behind his words. He would be gone by morning. And as much as he’d tried to sell you that soft maybe, the two of you understood this wasn’t a visit that would last.

But in that moment, as you curled up against his side, you pretended you didn’t know. You buried yourself in the warmth of his embrace, letting yourself have just one night, pretending you wouldn’t wake up alone.

And sure enough, the next morning, when your hand reached across the bed to his side, it found nothing but cool sheets. You stared at the empty space beside you, that hollow ache settling deep in your chest. With a sigh, you threw back the covers and padded over to the closet, grabbing one of his old T-shirts he’d left on one of his previous stays, back when you still believed he might keep leaving pieces of himself behind to build something more permanent with you.

The shirt smelled faintly of him, a hint of cedar and summer nights that made your throat tighten. Tugging it over your head, you went to the kitchen, the floor cold against your bare feet as you filled the kettle, automatically going through the motions of your morning coffee.

And that’s when you saw it—the note, lying in the center of the kitchen table, his handwriting scrawled across the torn piece of paper.

It was a short message, just a handful of words that were supposed to feel like a promise, but instead felt like one more empty reassurance. You picked it up, reading the rushed lines that only served to emphasize his absence.

Didn’t want to wake you. Take care, darlin’. I’ll see you around.

The words felt flimsy, like the paper might disintegrate under the weight of your disappointment. You crumpled the note in your fist, feeling the familiar sting behind your eyes. This wasn’t new—this cycle of him drifting in, leaving pieces of himself in the form of old T-shirts and half-hearted promises, only to vanish before you could say goodbye.

You’d been through this so many times before, and yet, as you stood there, clutching that note, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this time was the one that would finally break you.

Your mom’s voice cut through the silence, gentle but firm. “Honey, you still there?”

You blinked, realizing you’d let the silence drag on too long, your mind caught in the weight of memories you could barely hold onto. “Yeah, Mama,” you murmured, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“I know you love him,” she continued softly, but her words carried a strength you weren’t sure you had anymore. “But I need you to ask yourself if he’s treating you like he loves you, too. ’Cause, baby, love isn’t something you only hold onto when it’s convenient. It’s there in the hard times, in the moments that aren’t so pretty. And if he’s not showing up for you… maybe it’s time to ask yourself why you’re still waiting.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, staring down at the crumpled note still clutched in your hand. The truth of her words was painful, like a splinter lodged too deep to pull out.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know you’re right.”

“I just hate seeing you go through this, time and again,” she said, her voice tinged with a sorrow that made your chest ache. “You deserve someone who’s there for you, who doesn’t keep running just because things start feeling real.”

You exhaled, forcing a smile that felt as brittle as glass. “Thanks, Mama. I… I just needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, baby,” she said, her tone softening. “You take care of yourself. And remember, it’s okay to let go.”

After a quiet goodbye, you hung up, setting the phone down beside the note. Your mom’s words echoed in your mind, a steady reminder of what you deserved, a grounding tether pulling you back to reality. She was right, of course. She always was. And yet…No matter how many times he left, or how much you knew he wasn’t treating you the way you deserved, there was still a part of you—a foolish, stubborn part—that couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he stayed. Just once.

You closed your eyes, letting the bittersweet ache of a daydream settle over you, imagining what it would be like if he stayed. Just once.

You could almost feel him there beside you, his arm still wrapped around you as you stirred awake. In this vision, his side of the bed wasn’t empty; he was there, his breathing slow and steady, a soft smile tugging at his lips as you rolled over to nuzzle closer. The warmth of his body against yours made you feel safe, grounded, as though he was finally, truly yours.

Later, you pictured the two of you in the kitchen, the early light streaming in through the window as you handed him a mug of coffee. He’d take it, wrapping his hands around yours just a second longer than necessary, his fingers warm against your skin. You’d share a quiet laugh over something simple, something easy, while the steam curled between you. And as he sat across from you, his eyes would linger like he was savoring the moment, like he was savoring you.

In your mind, you watched as he’d finish his coffee, rising from the table to head out to the fields with you. He’d tug on a worn cap and grin over his shoulder, his eyes crinkling in that way that always made your heart stumble. You’d walk side by side, falling into the comfortable rhythm of working together, your boots crunching over the soil as you talked about things that never came up in his fleeting visits. What you’d plant next season, what you’d add to the place if you had the time and the money. He’d joke about the future, and for once, you’d let yourself believe in it.

Evenings would come, and you’d find yourselves on the back porch, watching the sun dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over everything. He’d reach for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You could almost feel the weight of his head resting against yours, his soft murmur of how he’d missed this, missed you. And as night fell, the stars would come out, and he’d pull you close, wrapping you in his arms as though he had nowhere else to be.

And then, in this daydream, he’d follow you back inside, his arm draped around your shoulders as you led him up to bed. There, tangled up in the sheets, he’d hold you close, his touch lingering and gentle, making you feel like you were the only person who’d ever mattered to him. His whispered promises wouldn’t be half-hearted or hesitant; they’d be real, as solid as the feel of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. You’d fall asleep in his arms, knowing he’d be there when you woke, that he’d finally found a place with you he wouldn’t leave behind.

But as you opened your eyes, the reality settled around you like a familiar chill. It was just a daydream, a vision of something you’d never have, as fleeting as his footprints fading from the dirt driveway. And yet, you couldn’t help but hold onto it for one more heartbeat, wishing with all the fragile hope you had left that someday, somehow, it could be real.

* * * * *

A MONTH LATER

It was a late afternoon, the sun dipping low and casting long shadows over the gravel drive as you stood on the porch, the distant rumble of an engine reaching your ears. You recognized that sound before you even saw the dust cloud rising in the distance, stirring up memories you’d been trying to put to rest for weeks. His truck rounded the last bend, and there he was, windows down, that easy, rugged grin spreading across his face as he slowed to a stop in front of the house.

Tyler stepped out, stretching his arms like he belonged there, like he hadn’t left you picking up the pieces last time. Dust clung to his boots as he walked toward you, his eyes fixed on yours with that familiar spark—one that made you feel seen in a way that was hard to shake, even when you wanted to.

He looked just the same, though maybe a little more sun-worn, his t-shirt clinging to his shoulders, his jeans frayed in a way that was somehow endearing, like they’d seen as much of the road as he had. He stopped a few steps away, his gaze softening as it met yours.

“Hey,” he said, voice warm and low, as if no time had passed at all.

You stayed still, hands clenched by your sides. You’d prepared yourself for this—told yourself a hundred times that if he showed up again, you’d keep your distance, guard the pieces of your heart he kept leaving behind. But as he stood there you felt the walls you’d built begin to crack.

“Hey,” you replied, the word catching in your throat.

A beat of silence hung between you, heavy with all the things left unsaid. Then his face softened, his smile widening in that way that always undid you. And, as if by instinct, he reached for you, his hand lifting to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a gentleness that felt almost like an apology.

For a moment, you considered stepping back, holding onto the anger and hurt that had filled the empty space he left behind. But as his touch settled, as his thumb traced a line just below your cheekbone, all your defenses crumbled.

Before you knew it, you were reaching back, your hand settling over his as you let yourself lean into him. It was like slipping back into a familiar dream—the one where he stayed, where he was yours for longer than a fleeting moment.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, and you sank into his embrace, feeling the weight of his chin against your hair, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. And in that moment, against all reason, you let yourself believe that maybe this time would be different, that maybe he’d come back not just to leave again, but to finally stay.

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you with that familiar, unguarded tenderness. His chin rested on top of your head, and for a moment, it felt as if the world beyond his embrace had faded away. His fingers traced slow circles on your back, a quiet, grounding rhythm that felt as real as his voice when he finally spoke, low and rough against your hair.

“I missed you,” he murmured, the words so soft you almost didn’t catch them. He shifted, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “I’m glad to see you again.”

You looked away for a moment, the words stirring both warmth and ache deep in your chest. It was unfair, the way he could come and go, the way he could leave you longing for more, but when he looked at you like that—with his guard down, that rugged charm softened by something raw and honest—it was hard to hold onto your resolve.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, barely able to meet his gaze. He smiled at that, a slow, almost relieved smile, as if he’d feared he might’ve lost his place in your heart.

He let his hand drift to yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a familiar gesture. “Come on,” he said, tugging you gently, “let’s make a day of it.”

With Tyler by your side, you found yourself lost in the rhythm of farm chores that felt lighter, easier, with him there. He was quick to lend a hand, reaching for the same tools you did, working alongside you with that easy, capable grace he seemed to carry everywhere.

You walked through rows of vegetables, pulling up the last of the summer crops, the sun warm against your skin. Tyler watched as you tossed a few stray weeds into a pile, a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“So,” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence, “how’s the team? Boone, Lily, Dani, Dexter?”

He chuckled, swiping a smudge of dirt from his forearm. “They’re all good. Wild as ever. Boone’s still dragging his feet over settling down, though I keep telling him he’s a fool if he lets Lily go. And Dani’s got herself a new truck she’s way too proud of. Dexter? Well, you know him; he’s just happy to tag along for the adventure.”

You smiled at the thought of his friends, feeling a pang of longing for the life he lived—a world of movement and adventure, so different from the one you held steady here. “They sound like they’re keeping you busy.”

“Yeah, they do.” He looked at you, a softness to his expression that made your heart skip. “But they’re not the only ones.”

“What do you mean?”

“Been thinking about you too, you know. Wondering what you’re up to when I’m gone.” He paused, glancing around the fields before adding, “How’s your mom doing?”

You swallowed, touched that he remembered to ask. “She’s good. Stubborn as ever, trying to do too much on her own. But we manage.”

He nodded thoughtfully, reaching out to steady you when you stumbled on a loose patch of earth. “You’ve got your hands full, don’t you?”

“Guess so,” you said, shrugging with a small smile. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He looked at you then, his gaze lingering, as if taking in the way you belonged here, rooted to this land and this life. For a moment, you thought he might say something more, but he only squeezed your hand, wordlessly acknowledging that unspoken divide between his world and yours.

Later, after a simple dinner you’d shared at the kitchen table, you both made your way out to the porch as the sun dipped low in the sky. He settled onto the swing beside you, letting his arm drape casually over the back of it as you leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his shoulder beneath your cheek.

The evening was calm, the colors of the sunset stretching across the horizon in soft shades of pink and orange, and you found yourself sighing into the quiet.

“This…this is nice,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

Tyler gave a soft hum of agreement, his thumb tracing small, comforting circles along your shoulder. “Could get used to it,” he said, his voice soft, as if testing the thought aloud. “It’s different from the rush of things out there. Being here with you—it just feels right.”

The words settled between you, gentle and unassuming, but laced with a longing that you felt all too acutely. He looked down, catching your gaze, his eyes holding yours in the fading light.

“I know you’ve got your life on the road,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “But sometimes I wonder…what it’d be like if you stayed.”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze drifting out over the fields that stretched into the distance. Finally, he gave a small nod. “I think about it too. More than you know.”

You fell into a comfortable silence, his arm around you, your head resting on his shoulder as the last light slipped below the horizon. And in that quiet moment, you let yourself imagine a world where he was yours—not just for today, but for all the days and nights to come.

In the quiet glow of the fading sunset, Tyler’s gaze grew heavy, lingering on yours with a kind of tenderness that always seemed to pull you in too deep, too fast. And in a heartbeat, he was scooping you up, lifting you effortlessly into his arms as you laughed, breathless and already feeling the rush of surrender. He carried you down the hallway, his eyes never leaving yours, each step filling the space with anticipation you could feel in every beat of your heart.

The bed was cool beneath you as he laid you gently on the sheets, his body following close, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any distance between you. His hands were careful yet urgent as he traced familiar paths along your skin, murmuring against your ear, his voice low and rough with want.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You closed your eyes, letting the sound of his voice wash over you, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your chest. “I’m lucky,” he murmured, his lips brushing your collarbone. “I’m the luckiest damn man alive that you’re mine.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to cling to those words and tuck them away, to let them soothe every doubt he’d left behind. But you pushed the ache aside, banishing it to some quiet corner of your mind where it couldn’t reach you now.

Instead, you let yourself get lost in him, in the way his hands knew every inch of you, how his touch left you dizzy, breathless, like you were the only thing that mattered in his world. Every whispered word, every gentle kiss pressed to your skin, they all felt like a spell you couldn’t break. And for that one perfect night, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth.

Afterward, as you lay tangled together in the sheets, your body pressed close to his, his arm wrapped around you, it was almost easy to forget. To ignore the hollow ache in your chest and pretend that this time, he wouldn’t slip away with the sunrise. And so, for those last quiet hours before dawn, you let yourself exist in that fragile, fleeting moment, letting go of everything but him.

The soft sound of Tyler stirring pulled you from the haze of sleep. You opened your eyes to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, already reaching for his clothes. The early morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over his figure as he moved quietly, carefully separating your clothes from his in the pile by the bed. For a moment, you wanted to reach out, to pull him back, to press your face into his shoulder and beg him to stay. But something in you had finally had enough.

He noticed you were awake, glancing over his shoulder with a soft smile that you’d once let yourself believe was meant just for you. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand brushing over your shoulder.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “You need the rest.”

But you couldn’t—not anymore. Watching him move through the room, watching him get ready to leave again as if it were just another morning, you felt something inside you finally shift, that last fragile bit of hope you’d clung to finally snapping.

Sitting up, you took a steadying breath. “Tyler,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. He looked over, a hint of surprise in his eyes at your tone. You struggled to keep your voice even, the words tangled in your throat. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting for someone who always leaves when things start to feel... real.”

He stilled, the easy expression on his face fading as the weight of your words sank in. You saw the conflict in his eyes, the same struggle you’d seen a dozen times before, but this time you weren’t going to let it end with an unspoken understanding. You were done with the quiet promises, the hope that somehow, one day, he might change.

“Stay,” you whispered, feeling the tears prick at your eyes. “Just... stay. I’m not asking you to give up chasing. I just want you to come home—to make this your home. To choose me.”

He looked at you, something like regret flickering in his gaze, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words you wanted.

Instead, he let out a shaky breath and looked down, and when he looked back up, all he managed was, “I’m sorry.” And you knew, in those two words, he’d already made his choice.

As he turned and started for the door, you found yourself following him, your steps echoing in the silence of the house as you trailed him through the hallway, the kitchen, the living room��all the way out onto the porch. You watched as he opened the truck door, throwing his bag into the backseat like he had a hundred times before.

“Don’t come back,” you said, the words escaping before you could stop them. Your voice wavered but held firm, steady with a finality that startled even you.

He froze, his hand on the truck door, then turned to look at you. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—shock, maybe even hurt—as he crossed the driveway and came back up the steps, stopping just a few feet away.

“You don’t mean that, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and careful, as if he could talk you back from the edge. “You’re upset, I get that, but... you don’t mean it.”

But you shook your head. “I do, Tyler. I can’t keep doing this. If you’re not choosing me, then... then don’t come back.”

He held your gaze, searching for something, as if hoping to see the softness he’d come to rely on. But when he only saw your resolve, he let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly.

“I’ll call you later,” he murmured. “We’ll talk.”

And just like that, he’d told you everything you needed to know. You didn’t need a call. You didn’t need another apology. You’d waited long enough.

You stood on the porch, watching as he climbed back into his truck. He didn’t look back as he drove down the driveway, the morning sun casting his truck in a halo of light as he disappeared into the Kansas countryside. You watched until he was just a speck on the horizon, your heart breaking and mending all at once with the realization that this was truly goodbye.

You’d loved him with everything you had, but you knew now that you couldn’t keep waiting for him to choose you. And when the phone finally rang, you knew you wouldn’t pick it up. Not this time. Not ever again. Because the next time he came back, you’d be moved on, ready to start again without him.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Angst

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girllblogging777 · 3 months ago

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𝐶𝑅𝐴𝐷𝐿𝐸𝐷 𝐼𝑁 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝐹𝑂𝑅𝑇

↳ mattheo riddle x academic overachiever fem!reader (dating, fluff)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 0,6k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo comforts you after you get a bad grade

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you stared at the parchment, your chest tightening as you looked at the red mark on top of it : A, for Acceptable. you were used to getting O’s for Outstanding or maybe E for Exceeds, but this… this was a complete failure for you. you were top of the class, an overachiever who always aimed for perfection. you had no room in your life for mediocrity, but today, you felt like all of your efforts hadn’t been worth anything.

your classmates had already moved of from their respective grades, getting up and chattering about the latest gossip while packing up their things. you remained frozen to your seat, drowning in your thoughts. how could you let this happen ? how could you mess up like this ? you’d spent so many nights studying, so much time preparing yourself, and for what ? the poor word “acceptable” written in crimson ink, mocking you everytime you glanced at it.

before your negative thoughts could get any further, you felt a familiar presence settle next to you. you looked up to find your boyfriend standing next to your desk, bag on his shoulder and frown on his face. mattheo riddle knew you too well, he was the only person that saw through your act. “what’s wrong, baby ?” he asked in a soft voice, his brows slightly furrowed.

you didn’t even say anything, handing him the parchment with shaky hands. he took it from you and scanned it over before letting out a small sigh at the grade, “this ?” mattheo questioned, sitting down on the chair next to yours. “this is what’s got you so upset ?”

you bit your lip and took a deep breath, nodding. of course, the two of you had completely different standards for grades and you didn’t expect him understand. after all, this wasn’t really considered a bad grade to anyone other than you. “i’m just not used to getting “acceptable”, it’s the first time it’s ever been that bad. do you think i’m gonna fail this semester ? what if-“

“woah, stop,” interrupted your boyfriend in a firm but gentle voice. he brought his chair closer to yours and took your hand in his, bringing it to his lap. “you’re good enough, baby. hell, good isn’t even an appropriate word to describe you. you’re the smartest girl i know, one bad grade can’t change that.”

you tried to protest but mattheo wasn’t having it. he draped an arm over your shoulder and looked at you straight in the eyes, speaking up again. “you’ve been working so hard, you need to cut yourself some slack. you need to put less pressure on yourself, you can allow yourself not to be perfect all the time. it doesn’t mean anything about your worth.”

“cmon, let’s go somewhere else.” he said when you didn’t answer, getting up and grabbing your hand again. you were still a little down but his words had managed to make you a feel a little bit better, so you simply nodded and grabbed your stuff, letting him lead you out of the classroom. he didn’t let go of your hand until you two reached your usual spot by the black lake, the cold breeze brushing against your skin.

your boyfriend sat down on the grass against the tree, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you. “i’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your soft hair. “just relax and stop thinking about it, kay ?” you buried your face in the crook of his neck, each one of his words of affirmation soothing you even more.

“my smart girl,” mattheo muttered sweetly in your ear, admiring you with the softest gaze you’d even seen. “you’re so beautiful, so perfect.” you smiled, kissing his jaw delicately in return. he chuckled, “i love you, you know that ? you’re the best, nothing can change that.” the brunette flashed you one of the reassuring smiles he only saved for you, and it managed to make you forget about everything else.

“thank you” you whispered, the words muffled against his chest. he whispered back, holding you a little tighter to let you know he meant it, “always, love.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : this is for the burnt out gifted kids aka “this is me trying” kins (me fr)

unfortunately i’m gonna be less active on here now that summer has ended, but keep leaving requests and writing suggestions in my inbox !!!

please comment and reblog ! tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @reys-letters @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @icantkeepmyplantsalive @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men

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entwnii · 4 months ago

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it’s already late at night when 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 walks out of the gym, his sport bag in his hand.

the droplets of water falling from his platinum blonde hair run down his face and the back of his neck. paired with the chill breeze of the night, it makes a trail of shivers run down his spine and goosebumps appear on his light skin.

god, why did he forget to bring a towel ?

he grabs his keys from the back pocket of his shorts before opening the car’s door, throwing his sport bag somewhere on the backseat while he slides down on the driver seat.

he turns his car on, a white porsche 718 spyder, hoping that his hair will dry during the ride home before driving off to your shared apartment.

the wind that blows through his blonde locks makes the pro athlete sigh in contentment, a small smile appearing on his slightly chapped lips as he drives through the busy streets of osaka, the neon lights of the stores lighting his face in various colors.

it doesn’t take him longer than twenty minutes to get to his residence, parking his convertible car in it’s usual spot.

atsumu grabs his bag’s handle and gets out of the car before locking it. he walks over to the apartment building’s entrance, opening the door and making his way to the staircase.

once he reaches the third floor, he walks over to the door of your shared apartment, the only one on the third floor.

the blonde-haired man unlocks the front door with his keys before stepping inside.

your fiancé carefully closes the door behind him, not wanting to wake you up. he kicks his shoes off his feet before placing his sport bag on the floor next to the door.

atsumu’s dark brown eyes are attracted by a small light coming from the living room.

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the pro volleyball player walks over to the living room, scratching the back of his neck.

the frown on his face immediately disappears at the sight in front of him, a fond smile replacing it.

the television is on, mamma mia is currently playing on the screen, one of your favorite movies. there’s a plate of muffins on the coffee table, blueberry and lemon ones with powdered sugar icing on top along with a glass bottle of lemonade.

all the while you are laying on the skandi couch, facing the television, visibly asleep. one of your cheeks is pressed against the back of your hand, your eyes closed and your plump lips slightly parted. soft breaths escape you as one of atsumu’s large shirts is draped over your body.

despite all of his efforts not to wake you up, atsumu’s foot bumps into one of the couch’s footers, making him yelp at the sudden pain, which wakes you up.

atsumu watches as you turn around, facing the couch’s back, a frown on your face while a small whine escapes you. your eyelashes flutter open, trying to adjust your eyesight to the light coming from the television.

as you sit up, you start rubbing your eyes, letting a groan of complain before finally glancing to the side, glaring at your fiancé.

“sorry, baby.” atsumu flashes you a small smile, a hint of regret visible in his eyes, despite his urge to laugh at your sleepy appearance.

“how’s my future mama ?” he asks as he places his hands on the back of the skandi couch, leaning towards you.

“fine, but she was quite calm until you arrived.” you accusingly tell him, a subtle frown on your features as you place a hand on your baby bump.

“‘t’s not my fault she likes my voice.” atsumu lets out a chuckle, placing a hand on the side of your face, turning your head to place a small peck on your plump lips. “only two months left…”

you let out a small hum at his words, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

atsumu parts away from your plump lips, licking his own. “imma eat somethin’, what do ya wanna eat ?”

you scratch the bridge of your nose with your nails, thinking about his offer. “i want vanilla ice cream… with olive oil and salt.”

atsumu nods his head at your request, a small ‘kay’ leaving his lips before he walks over to the kitchen.

he knows better than to criticize your cravings, especially since it isn’t the weirdest one out of your seven months of pregnancy.

your fiancé turns on the kitchen’s lights, scratching the back of his neck as he walks around the kitchen to gather the ingredients.

he grabs two bowls from one of the drawers before turning over to the fridge and opening it. he grabs the vanilla ice cream container along with his oatmeal and the milk.

atsumu places a good amount of oatmeal into his bowl before pouring some milk on top and putting the bowl on the side.

he then begins to scoop out some vanilla ice cream, placing it in the second bowl before grabbing the olive oil. he pours a trail of the oil on top of the ice cream and sprinkles some sea salt on top.

the blonde-haired boy wipes the kitchen counter, cleaning the small mess he made, and puts the ingredients back in the fridge.

he grabs both the bowls, along with two tablespoons and walks back to the living room.

“here ya go, pretty girl.” atsumu announces with a grin on his face as he hands you your bowl and a spoon.

he slides on the skandi couch right next to you and digs into his oatmeal. he glances over at you, his grin widening as he watches the pleased expression on your face as you savor the ice cream.

“do you want to try it, ‘tsumu ?” you ask as you look over at atsumu, pointing to the mixture in your bowl with your spoon.

“nah, i’m not trustin’ you with that.” he shakes his head, a loud laugh escaping him.

safe to say that you were pissed at him after that, which only made him laugh more.

#＿〆(ˊᗜˋ*)#after osamu we have atsumu !!#i couldn’t do one of them w/o doing the other #i don’t really think i have a fav twin #cuz both of the are like reallyyyyyy different #ANYWAY !!#this one was fun to write too !#we’re midway into the pregnancy cravings serie !!#i have other fics coming after this serie too :3 #timeskip! atsumu #msby! atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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flowercrowngods · 10 months ago

Text

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now.

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard.

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work.

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone.

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened?

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it.

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?”

No. “Thanks.”

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening.

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she—

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees.

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again.

“Hi.”

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.”

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe.

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again.

“What about Steve.”

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth.

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.”

“He… He’s hurt.”

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.”

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.”

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her.

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it.

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall.

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled.

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he—

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine.

People don’t just die.

They don’t.

He’s fine.

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression.

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this.

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently.

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue.

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time.

He needs a smoke.

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life.

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes.

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles.

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him.

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him.

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt.

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit.

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or—

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today.

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate.

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.”

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while.

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie.

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.”

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug.

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it.

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself.

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t?

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs.

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off.

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?”

It’s stupid. Don’t say it.

“Eddie?”

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out.

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues.

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state.

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing.

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year.

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three?

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does.

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues.

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person.

It’s so fucking surreal.

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead.

And silence reigns.

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.”

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped.

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues.

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.”

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat.

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.”

Tell me about your favourite person.

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into.

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her.

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.”

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication.

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?”

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head.

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.”

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin.

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…”

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now.

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does.

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there.

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now.

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him.

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then.

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare.

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve.

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring.

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next.

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.”

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.”

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean?

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, ��He won’t break.”

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse.

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley.

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth.

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley.

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing.

“Why’d you call me?”

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson.

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips.

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.”

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession.

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?”

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow.

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?”

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue.

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers.

“What, the ice cream parlour?”

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…”

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses.

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened.

“He saved your life?”

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation.

“In the fire? Were you there?”

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.”

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again.

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters.

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?”

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.”

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.”

It is, isn’t it?

You’re so blue, Stevie.

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice.

Yeah. Yeah, he is.

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look.

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago.

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around.

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around.

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait.

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence.

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?”

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.”

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #who did this to you #something has Shifted in this part and i wanna do a literary/meta analysis of it but i dont wanna ruin the fun or be annoying but hhh #also sorry if you don't like this bc it's so different from the other two but the sudden adrenaline crash will do that to ya #we'll get Blue back soon don't you worry 🤍#also eddie's mind is running in circles and he doesn't have wayne to stop him this time sooo if this feels repetitive and redundant???#then let's pretend it should read that way actually (and also eddie is an obsessive little guy he'll ruminate forever if he doesn't have #an outlet sooo)#also rambling fumbly robin going deadly still over an injured steve is the hill i will die on actually like that just makes me feral #dio words

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gojoux · 1 year ago

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Hi can I request. What will jjk men do when you are sad? Thank you

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐃

Gojo. Geto. Sukuna. Nanami. Choso. Toji. Megumi. Itadori. Yuta. Inumaki.

◈ — 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

His smile drops slowly when he notices you’re looking down. “You sad? Why?” He sits down next to you, wrapping an arm around your body to pull you to his side, his head resting on top of yours. “Let’s fix that, shall we? That’s why I’m here.” He tries to cheer you up with short praises and snuggles onto your side for as long as you want him to.

◈ — 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

He’d notice right away even when you’re trying to hide it. “Now, now, what’s making you sad?” He asks with that gentle, soothing voice. He caresses your head, staying close by your side, “Anything you want to do to distract your mind?” He’d ask what you want to do and he’s more than willing to oblige just to make you happy again.

◈ — 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

Despite selfish traits, he genuinely cares about you and only you in his own way. “What’s gotten you all down, hm? Do I need to beat up someone today? You look miserable.” He’d tease you for a bit. “I’ll make you feel better.” He urges you to come to him, placing an arm over your shoulder so casually as he listens to your worries.

◈ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

He’d have no problem pointing out how down you look after observing you in silence, noting the change of speaking and behavior from you. “You look uneasy, dear.” He opens the conversation, wanting to know if you want to discuss your problem more with him. “You can tell me when you’re ready.” He rubs his thumb on your wrist.

◈ — 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

He may look unbothered and distant from the outside, but he has a caring heart. He’ll pull you into a tight hug, “It hurts to see you sad. What happened?” He kisses your forehead and your temple while his hands rub your back up and down to ease your tense self. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s trying for you.

◈ — 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

He remains unbothered, but his eyes keep looking at you. “What’s gotten you all worked up, darling? You’ve been frowning since this morning. You look better when you smile, y’know?” He asks casually about it since he doesn’t want to worsen the tension. He then pats his lap, “Come and tell me. Let’s get this over with and relax together.”

◈ — 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

“You look sad. Did something happen?” He’s quite unsure how to lift someone’s mood, he doesn’t talk much but he’s good at finding words to support you even though he’ll just stay quiet beside you for a while, giving you comfort from his presence alone. “I’m here whenever you want to talk, okay?” He’ll rather bashfully hold your hand tight on his.

◈ — 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈

He’ll get worried seeing you sad, thinking that something must have happened. “Are you okay?” He asks the obvious, but he just wants to make sure how you’re feeling. He’d hug you tight, tucking your face in the crook of his neck, and caress your head. “Let’s make you happy again, ‘kay? How about movies? Cuddles?” Anything and he’ll try to provide it for you.

◈ — 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀

He is someone who has a lot of sympathy and empathy, seeing you sad will get to him. “Why do you look so unhappy? Did something bad happen today? I may not be the best person to cheer you up, but can I do something for you?” He’s trying his best to cheer you up with encouraging words, hugging you close to him, and agreeing to whatever you want to do.

◈ — 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 🍙

“Takana?” He’ll sit down next to you, trying to stay as close as possible to you to show his support and provide his comfort as he can. “Tsuna Mayo?” He’d listen to your worries and what made you upset. He’ll try his best to cheer you up, like watching videos on his phone with him close to your side to help you forget the problem at the moment.

Hope everyone out there who's feeling sad will get better soon 🫶

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urdreamydoodles · 2 months ago

Text

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

A chaotic night at the carnival with your boyfriend (Part.1)

You and your boyfriend embark on a chaotic carnival adventure, where their unique personalities lead to unpredictable situations.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Warren Worthington III, Bobby Drake, Pietro Maximoff, Wade Wilson & Cable

Let's forget mutant rac*sm for one night, 'kay? No humans looking you weird because of who you are. These headcanons are pure joy.

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- Logan wasn’t exactly the carnival type. When he suggested taking you to one, you weren’t sure what had gotten into him. But there you were, walking hand-in-hand with him through the bustling crowd of people, the scent of popcorn and fried food filling the air. His rough exterior clashed humorously with the colorful surroundings, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the way he grumbled every time someone bumped into him or a ride screeched too loudly. He glanced down at you, raising an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

- “You are,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “This doesn’t seem like your kind of thing.”

- Logan grunted but gave a small smirk. “Figured you might like it. And besides, could use a little break from the usual crap.”

- You smiled at his thoughtfulness, squeezing his hand. You weren’t sure how long the peace would last, though, knowing Logan’s knack for attracting trouble. As if on cue, you spotted a strength-testing game nearby, the kind with the hammer and the bell at the top. Logan’s eyes narrowed as he noticed it too, and you instantly knew what was coming.

- “Wanna give it a try, tough guy?” you teased, already imagining the chaos this could cause.

- “Oh, I’m doin’ it,” Logan growled, determination in his voice as he dragged you over to the booth. The carnival worker looked a little too confident, like he’d never seen someone like Logan in his life. Logan picked up the hammer with ease, spinning it in his hands before positioning himself in front of the game.

- “You sure about this?” you asked, giggling at the way he sized up the machine like it was his next battle. But before you could say anything else, Logan swung the hammer down with full force. The bell didn’t just ring—it practically flew off the top of the pole with a loud clang, leaving the carnival worker standing there, slack-jawed.

- People around the game burst into laughter and applause, while Logan just shrugged and handed the hammer back like it was nothing. “Cheap machine,” he muttered, as if it had been a weak challenge. You couldn’t stop laughing, your sides aching as you tried to catch your breath.

- The carnival worker, still stunned, offered you both a giant stuffed bear as a prize. “For your troubles,” he said, eyeing Logan warily. You gladly accepted the bear, knowing Logan wasn’t the type to care about prizes.

- As you walked away, you leaned into Logan, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “You broke the carnival.”

- “Wasn’t my fault,” he grumbled, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. “Damn thing wasn’t built right.”

- Despite the chaotic start, the night continued with more laughs as Logan tried his best to blend in. He won you a few more prizes, though you could tell he was holding back on most of the games, trying not to cause too much destruction. The bumper cars were another story, though. The moment Logan got behind the wheel, all bets were off. He went after anyone who came close, slamming into other cars with a grin that told you he was enjoying this way too much.

- When the night ended, you were both loaded down with stuffed animals and prizes. “Well, that was… something,” you said, glancing up at Logan. He looked more relaxed than you’d seen him in a while, and despite the chaos, you were glad you had come.

- Logan gave you a sideways look, his hand finding yours again. “Yeah, it was somethin’,” he agreed. “But don’t think I’ll be doin’ this every week.”

- You laughed, pulling him close for a kiss. “Maybe once in a while. Just for fun.”

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- “You ready for dis, chérie?” Remy asked, his grin wide as he led you through the carnival entrance. His excitement was contagious, and you found yourself getting caught up in the lights and sounds, despite knowing that anything involving Remy was bound to lead to some kind of trouble. He held your hand loosely, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he scanned the carnival with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

- “Ready for what, exactly?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. You knew better than to expect a quiet night when it came to Remy. The man thrived on chaos and fun, and carnivals were like his personal playground.

- “Everything!” Remy said dramatically, sweeping his arm to gesture at the carnival games, rides, and food stalls. “We gon’ win every prize, eat everythin’, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll take you up on dat Ferris wheel.”

- You laughed, already bracing yourself for whatever chaos Remy was about to unleash. He dragged you toward the game booths first, eyeing the ring toss with a suspicious amount of confidence. “How ‘bout we start with somethin’ easy?”

- Remy tossed a few rings with the finesse of someone who had probably spent his life perfecting sleight of hand tricks. He made it look effortless, hitting the targets every time. The game worker handed you a small stuffed animal as a prize, but Remy wasn’t satisfied.

- “Non, non, I got more in me,” he said with a wink, flipping a coin in his fingers as he eyed the larger prizes. You tried to pull him away, knowing what was coming, but it was too late. Remy wasn’t playing fair anymore. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a ring that glowed faintly with kinetic energy, sending it perfectly onto one of the highest-scoring targets.

- The worker’s eyes widened, clearly confused by how Remy had managed that, but he handed over the grand prize—a ridiculously large stuffed tiger. “Here you go,” he said, casting Remy a suspicious look.

- “Merci, mon ami,” Remy said smoothly, handing the tiger to you with a flourish. “For you, ma belle.”

- You could only shake your head, trying to hold back your laughter. “You cheated,” you whispered, though you couldn’t help but smile at the way he was grinning like a kid who had gotten away with something.

- “Just a lil’ help,” Remy said, shrugging as he slung his arm around your shoulders. “Dat’s the fun, non?”

- The night continued in much the same way. Remy charmed his way through every booth, somehow managing to win every game despite the odds. He even convinced you to go on the Ferris wheel with him, though the moment the wheel started turning, he leaned over and whispered in your ear, “You scared of heights, chérie?”

- “Not until you said that,” you muttered, gripping the safety bar a little tighter. Remy laughed, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as the Ferris wheel carried you both up to the top. From there, the chaos of the carnival seemed far below you, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

- That was until you got off the Ferris wheel and Remy decided to try his luck at one last game—a dart-throwing booth. “Watch dis,” he said confidently, picking up the darts. You watched, amused, as he tossed the first dart with perfect precision. It hit the target dead center, earning him another prize.

- But as Remy lined up his second dart, someone bumped into him, causing him to miss the target completely. The dart hit the edge of the booth and sent one of the stuffed animals flying into the air.

- The game worker let out a startled yell, and before you knew it, Remy was laughing so hard he could barely stand. “Oops,” he said, though you could tell he wasn’t sorry at all.

- You grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the booth before things got worse. “I think that’s enough chaos for one night.”

- Remy flashed you a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ah, but you had fun, didn’t you?”

- You couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, I did. But next time, maybe we try something a little less… explosive.”

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- “Zis is amazing!” Kurt exclaimed as he looked around the carnival, his excitement contagious. His tail flicked back and forth as he took everything in—the lights, the music, the people. You smiled at his enthusiasm, knowing that Kurt’s childlike wonder could turn even the most ordinary event into something magical. But you also knew that wherever Kurt went, chaos was never far behind.

- “It’s just a carnival, Kurt,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but smile at how happy he looked. “You act like you’ve never been to one before.”

- Kurt grinned, his fangs peeking out in that charming way that always made your heart skip a beat. “Ja, but every time is like ze first time when you’re with me, mein Schatz.”

- You rolled your eyes but let him lead you through the crowd, his arm wrapped around your waist protectively. You could already see him eyeing the different carnival games with curiosity, and you knew it was only a matter of time before something went wrong.

- The first sign of chaos came when Kurt spotted a haunted house attraction. His eyes lit up, and before you could protest, he had already bought tickets and was dragging you inside. “Zis vill be fun!” he promised, his tail curling in excitement.

- The haunted house was dark, and cheap jump scares popped out from every corner. Despite knowing they were fake, you still jumped every time something came at you. Kurt, on the other hand, was having the time of his life, laughing at every skeleton or ghoul that leaped out from the shadows. His hand remained on your lower back, guiding you through the twisting hallways, but you noticed his tail twitching in anticipation.

- Just as you both rounded a corner, a particularly loud scream echoed through the room, followed by a life-sized animatronic zombie lunging toward you. Without thinking, Kurt instinctively "bamfed"—disappearing into a cloud of smoke and reappearing right in front of the zombie. “Ach! You scared mein Schatz!” he exclaimed dramatically, holding out his hands as if scolding the fake creature.

- You burst into laughter, doubling over as Kurt’s display turned into a full-fledged performance, complete with mock outrage. “You realize it’s not real, right?” you said, trying to catch your breath between giggles.

- “Real or not, I vill not stand for zis disrespect!” Kurt said, grinning as his tail curled around your wrist. He gave a wink before "bamfing" again, appearing just behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

- As the haunted house continued, Kurt couldn’t resist teleporting around, jumping ahead to surprise you or appearing beside some of the animatronics to “challenge” them to a duel. By the time you reached the exit, both of you were breathless from laughter, and the haunted house employees were giving Kurt curious, amused looks.

- “Zat vas wunderbar!” Kurt declared, pulling you close for a quick kiss. “Ve should do zat again, ja?”

- “Maybe without the bamfing next time,” you teased, though you couldn’t deny how much fun it had been.

- The rest of the night continued in much the same way. Kurt’s excitement was infectious, and he couldn’t help but teleport around the carnival, grabbing prizes for you and whisking you off to different booths. At one point, he even teleported both of you onto the Ferris wheel, much to the operator’s confusion.

- As the night came to a close, Kurt wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both watched the fireworks light up the sky. “Danke, mein Liebling,” he whispered, his tail wrapping around your wrist gently. “For making zis night perfect.”

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- Scott had insisted on going to the carnival with a plan. A structured plan. “We’ll hit the games first, then maybe the rides, and after that, we can grab some food,” he said confidently, holding a map of the carnival in one hand as he walked beside you. You couldn’t help but laugh at how seriously he was taking it, but that was just Scott.

- “You know, you can relax a little,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “It’s a carnival, not a mission.”

- Scott gave you a half-smile, adjusting his sunglasses. “I just want to make sure we get to do everything. There’s a lot to cover.”

- You appreciated his effort, but you knew Scott’s love of structure would inevitably clash with the chaos of the carnival. It didn’t take long for things to spiral. The first sign of trouble came when you reached the ring toss booth. Scott, ever the perfectionist, was determined to win you one of the giant stuffed animals. After missing a few rings, though, you could see the frustration building in his expression.

- “I don’t get it,” he muttered, lining up another ring. “I’m hitting the target dead-on. Why won’t it stay?”

- You bit back a laugh, knowing he was taking this far too seriously. “Maybe it’s rigged?” you suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

- Scott frowned, clearly not convinced. “I’m going to try again.”

- This time, you stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm gently. “It’s just a game, Scott. We can always try another one.”

- He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just wanted to win you something.”

- Your heart melted a little at his earnestness, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to win me anything. I’m happy just being here with you.”

- Scott’s expression softened, and he gave you a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks.”

- Just as things seemed to calm down, the Ferris wheel caught Scott’s eye. “Let’s ride that next,” he suggested, glancing at the line. “We’ll be able to see the whole carnival from up there.”

- As you both waited in line, everything seemed to be going smoothly until, suddenly, one of the carnival workers tripped over a loose cable, causing a small electrical issue that made the Ferris wheel stop mid-turn. You both were stuck at the top, dangling in mid-air.

- “Great,” Scott muttered under his breath, looking at the non-functioning ride. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

- You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I guess even you can’t plan for everything.”

- He gave a resigned chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Guess you’re right.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both watched the sun setting over the carnival from your vantage point in the sky.

Bobby Drake (Iceman)

- Bobby was the definition of carefree and fun, so when he suggested going to the carnival, you knew it would be a night full of laughter and mischief. “I’m gonna win you all the prizes,” he declared confidently as you both entered the carnival grounds, his hand laced with yours.

- “You sure about that?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “What if I’m better at the games than you?”

- Bobby grinned, giving you a playful wink. “Oh, I *know* you’re competitive, but just wait. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

- The first game you both hit was the basketball toss. Bobby stepped up, flashing the carnival worker a confident smile. “Watch and learn, babe.”

- You crossed your arms, smirking as you watched him make his first shot—and miss. “Looks like you need some practice,” you teased, stifling a laugh.

- Bobby shot you a mock glare before lining up his next shot. This time, he nailed it, and you couldn’t help but cheer for him. “Told you I had this,” he said, accepting the prize from the worker—a small stuffed penguin, fittingly enough.

- As the night went on, Bobby’s playful antics kept you entertained. He made sure to try every game, even using his powers in small, sneaky ways to give himself an advantage. At one point, he froze the water gun in the shooting game just enough to keep it steady, winning a giant stuffed bear that he proudly handed over to you.

- “How many stuffed animals do you think we can carry?” you asked, laughing as Bobby piled yet another prize into your arms.

- “As many as it takes,” he said with a grin, but you could see the gleam in his eye that told you he was up to something.

- Sure enough, when you reached the ice cream stand, Bobby couldn’t resist using his powers to show off. He created a small ice sculpture of a penguin on your cone, earning a round of applause from the nearby kids.

- “You’re such a show-off,” you said, rolling your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

- “I know, I know,” Bobby said, bowing dramatically. “But admit it—you love it.”

- As the night continued, Bobby couldn’t resist getting into a bit of chaos. When you both reached the bumper cars, he made sure to freeze the track just enough to send everyone spinning wildly out of control. You could hear people laughing, completely unaware of the small patch of ice Bobby had created beneath their wheels.

- “Bobby!” you scolded, though you were laughing too hard to sound serious. “You’re going to get us kicked out!”

- “Nah, they’ll never know,” he said, giving you a wink as you both raced around the track, dodging the other cars. It wasn’t long before the ride attendant started looking suspicious, though, and Bobby quickly melted the ice before anyone could catch on.

- By the end of the night, you were both loaded down with prizes and stuffed animals, your sides aching from laughter. “Best. Night. Ever,” Bobby declared as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close.

- “Yeah, it was pretty amazing,” you agreed, leaning into him as you walked toward the exit. “But next time, maybe we keep the chaos to a minimum?”

- “Where’s the fun in that?” Bobby teased, planting a kiss on your temple.

Warren Worthington III (Angel)

- Warren always had an air of elegance and class about him, even at a carnival. From the moment you walked through the entrance, his hand resting on your lower back, he looked slightly out of place among the flashing lights and crowds. Still, he indulged your excitement, smiling at the prospect of a night filled with games and rides.

- “I’m not exactly used to this kind of... environment,” he admitted, adjusting his shirt as if he were still in some high-class event. You laughed, giving his arm a playful squeeze. “Don’t worry, Warren. Just follow my lead. We’ll start with something simple, like the ring toss.”

- At the game booth, Warren gave a polite nod to the carnival worker and then tried his best to follow the rules of the game. Unfortunately for him, his first few tosses were way off the mark, despite his best efforts. His wings twitched in mild frustration, and you could tell he wasn’t used to failure in any form.

- “Here, let me show you how it’s done,” you teased, stepping up and grabbing a ring. To your own surprise, your first throw landed perfectly around the bottle. You turned to Warren with a grin. “See? It’s all about aiming where you’re not trying to go.”

- Warren chuckled softly, though you could see the competitive spark in his eyes. He was always one to rise to a challenge. After a few more tries, he finally won, and with his natural grace, he handed you a giant stuffed bear. “For you, love. Even if it did take me longer than I expected.”

- Things really started to get chaotic when you both decided to go on the bumper cars. You didn’t think much of it, but Warren’s wings made it difficult for him to comfortably sit in the small car. “This... might not have been the best idea,” he muttered as he tried to squeeze in.

- You were already laughing as you got into your own car, watching Warren struggle to fit his wings within the tight confines. As the ride started, Warren immediately became a target for all the kids driving around, probably because of his wings sticking out awkwardly. Every few seconds, a car would bump into him, sending him jolting forward.

- “Why did I agree to this?” he grumbled, trying to avoid another hit. But when you managed to ram your car into his with a mischievous grin, Warren shot you an amused glare. “You’re going to pay for that.”

- The rest of the ride was a blur of chaotic bumper car mayhem. You laughed the whole time, but you could tell Warren was both trying to enjoy himself and maintain his dignity. By the end of it, his feathers were slightly ruffled, and he gave you a look that said he was never doing that again.

- As the night continued, Warren did loosen up, especially when you convinced him to go on the Ferris wheel with you. The view from the top was breathtaking, and for a moment, he seemed to relax completely, his arm around your shoulders as you leaned into him. “Now *this* I can get used to,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple.

- By the end of the night, despite the chaos, Warren admitted he had fun. “Next time, let’s try something a little more... refined,” he teased, though you knew he’d come back to the carnival with you any time you wanted.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Erik wasn’t exactly the kind of person who frequented carnivals. You knew it from the moment you suggested it, and the slight arch of his eyebrow told you he wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “A carnival? You’re serious?” he asked, arms crossed.

- “It’ll be fun,” you insisted, grabbing his hand. “Come on, Erik, when was the last time you let yourself just relax and enjoy something silly?”

- He sighed, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “For you, I suppose I can make an exception.” That’s how you found yourself walking into the brightly lit carnival with one of the most powerful mutants in the world by your side, looking decidedly out of place but determined to humor you.

- It didn’t take long for things to start going wrong. Erik, being the master of magnetism, unintentionally interfered with several of the carnival rides. You were both standing in line for a simple spinning ride when it suddenly shut down. The operator seemed confused, scratching his head as the machinery stalled.

- “I didn’t even touch anything,” Erik muttered, though you shot him a knowing look. “Really, I didn’t.”

- “Maybe we should stick to games where you don’t have to be near anything metal,” you suggested with a grin, tugging him toward the balloon dart booth.

- Erik’s mood lightened a bit when you both started playing the carnival games. He didn’t have much interest in stuffed animals or prizes, but watching you get competitive at the ring toss and dart games made him smile in his own subtle way. “You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?” he teased, watching as you missed another shot.

- “It’s harder than it looks!” you argued, but Erik just chuckled. With a flick of his fingers, he subtly guided one of your darts into a balloon, making it pop instantly. You turned to him with wide eyes. “Did you just—”

- “No idea what you’re talking about,” he said smoothly, smirking as the carnival worker handed you a prize.

- The real chaos came when you convinced him to try the strength tester, the game where you hit a hammer and try to ring the bell. Erik didn’t even bother to use his full strength—just a quick, casual swing, and the bell practically flew off the top, clattering onto the ground.

- “Well, that’s one way to win,” you said, trying to stifle your laughter as the carnival worker stared in shock.

- Erik shrugged, looking mildly amused as he glanced at the broken bell. “Not my fault they didn’t build it properly.”

- By the end of the night, despite the mishaps, Erik seemed to have enjoyed himself more than he’d admit. “It was... tolerable,” he said with a smirk, pulling you close. “But next time, let’s do something less likely to fall apart around me.”

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

- Going to a carnival with Pietro was a whirlwind—literally. From the moment you stepped through the gates, he was off, zipping from one game to the next, barely giving you time to catch up. “Come on, slowpoke!” he called out, already standing at the dart booth before you could even take your first step.

- “You’re impossible,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help but smile. Pietro’s energy was infectious, and you knew tonight would be full of chaos.

- It started with the games. Pietro was determined to win you every prize in the carnival, though his speed made it hard for him to slow down enough to actually play. At the ring toss, he zoomed through several rings before realizing none of them had landed. “This game is rigged,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

- “Maybe you should try slowing down,” you suggested with a grin, stepping up to take your turn. To your surprise, you managed to win on your second try, earning a small stuffed animal. Pietro looked at you with wide eyes, clearly impressed. “Okay, maybe you’re just better at this than I am.”

- The real chaos, though, came when you convinced him to go on the carousel. It seemed like a harmless enough ride, but as soon as it started moving, Pietro couldn’t resist the urge to speed it up. Before you knew it, the horses were spinning around at an alarming rate, and people were shouting in surprise.

- “Pietro!” you yelled, holding onto the pole for dear life. “Slow it down!”

- With a laugh, he finally let the ride return to its normal speed, though the other riders were clearly a little dizzy when they got off. “What? I thought it could use a little excitement,” he said with a mischievous grin.

- “You’re going to get us kicked out,” you teased, shaking your head as you both moved on to the next attraction.

- The bumper cars were a whole different level of chaos. Pietro’s speed allowed him to dodge every car with ease, leaving the other riders frustrated as they tried to catch him. You, on the other hand, found yourself being bumped into every few seconds as you tried to keep up.

- “You’re supposed to be on my team!” you shouted as Pietro zipped past you, laughing as he narrowly avoided another car.

- “Sorry, babe, no teams in bumper cars!” he called back, clearly enjoying himself.

- By the end of the night, you were both breathless from laughter and running around the carnival. Pietro wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you walked toward the exit. “That was fun,” he admitted, his usual cocky grin softening a bit. “We should do it again sometime.”

- “Maybe next time you’ll slow down long enough for me to actually enjoy it,” you teased, though you knew you wouldn’t change a thing about the chaotic, whirlwind night you’d had with him.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

- A carnival date with Wade, was bound to be one of the wildest experiences of your life. The second you stepped into the carnival, he was bouncing around like a kid who’d had way too much sugar. “Oh baby, this is gonna be epic! Carnies, cotton candy, and chaos—three of my favorite things!”

- Wade insisted on playing every game, but instead of trying to win prizes, he was more interested in “spicing things up.” At the dart throw, he purposely hit the ceiling instead of the balloons, declaring, “It’s reverse psychology! They’ll never see it coming!” The poor booth operator was at a loss for words, especially when Wade whipped out his katana, threatening to “pop them all at once.”

- “Wade, no weapons at the carnival,” you reminded him with a chuckle, pulling him away before he could get you both kicked out.

- The real chaos began when Wade spotted the Ferris wheel. “Do you know what this needs? A dramatic Ferris wheel kiss!” Before you could protest, Wade dragged you into a cart, somehow managing to cause a malfunction that stopped the wheel at the very top. The two of you were suspended in mid-air as Wade dramatically dipped you, trying to plant a kiss while also almost flipping you both out of the cart.

- “Wade! We’re gonna fall!” you shrieked, laughing despite yourself.

- “Then we’ll fall in love—literally!” he quipped, still holding onto you with one arm while the other waved madly for the carnival operator to fix the ride.

- After finally getting back on the ground, Wade couldn’t resist trying the bumper cars. This, naturally, turned into a high-speed chase where he decided to narrate the entire thing like a car chase in an action movie. “And Deadpool swerves to the left, narrowly avoiding that kid with cotton candy! But wait, here comes the love of his life, ready to T-bone him from the right!”

- By the time you left the carnival, both of you were banned from at least three rides, Wade had convinced a few people he was actually part of the entertainment, and you couldn’t stop laughing. As the night wound down, Wade gave you a surprisingly soft smile, taking your hand in his.

- “Y’know, this wasn’t half bad,” he said, squeezing your fingers. “You’re pretty fun, babe. And that’s saying something, ‘cause I’m the king of fun.”

- “You make chaos fun,” you teased back, leaning into him as you walked out of the carnival. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Nathan Summers (Cable)

- A carnival with Cable was a different kind of adventure. Nathan wasn’t exactly the carnival type, and you could tell by the way he scanned the crowd the moment you stepped in, his metal arm gleaming under the bright lights. “Do you ever stop being on alert?” you teased him, looping your arm through his.

- He gave you a half-smile, the kind that made your heart race. “Force of habit. But if you want me to relax, I’ll give it a shot.”

- The night started off relatively normal, at least by Cable standards. He begrudgingly tried a few games, and while he wasn’t exactly into it, you could tell he was making an effort for you. “This is rigged,” he muttered after missing a shot at the basketball hoop, his brow furrowed in concentration.

- “Or maybe you’re just out of practice,” you teased, and for a moment, you thought you saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. But things took a turn when you both decided to ride the carousel.

- Halfway through, the ride glitched, and suddenly you found yourselves not in the carnival but in a different time period entirely. “Nathan, did you—?”

- “I didn’t do anything!” he said, his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what had gone wrong. The carousel horses were now galloping through a war-torn landscape, and Cable immediately shifted into battle mode.

- “We have to get out of here,” he growled, using his telekinesis to shield you from flying debris. Just when you thought you were stuck in this alternate timeline forever, Cable managed to fix the glitch, and you both tumbled back into the carnival with a thud.

- “Okay, no more rides,” you panted, laughing as you collapsed against him. Cable chuckled softly, wrapping his metal arm around you protectively.

- “Yeah, maybe we stick to something a little less... chaotic,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple. But despite the madness, you couldn’t deny that the chaos had been kind of thrilling.

- As you left the carnival, Cable squeezed your hand, his usually stoic expression softening. “Next time, let’s just do dinner,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

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thoughtsforsoob · 20 days ago

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grocery store runs together 🩷 txt ver.

note: just went on a Walmart run and had so much fun. I feel so old just enjoying shopping at the grocery store but that’s okay. I could be spending on dumb stuff but I’m not 😉 anyways please enjoy. shout out to my girlies who love grocery shopping!!

yeonjun

definition of “oh this looks good *throws item in the cart*”. He has a very loose sense of what he needs so he just walks through all the aisles and tosses whatever he wants at the moment in the cart. He lets you pick anything you want, especially different sweets and pastries. He secretly loves when you compare prices and all that other stuff. he’s not sure why but it just makes you seem even more like wife material to him.

soobin

very organize and brings his own reusable shopping bags (they’re bunny print. I don’t make the rules). he loosely follows a shopping list that he keeps on his notes up and updates it throughout the week. he will follow you on all your little side quests through the store so you don’t have to be alone. your grocery store runs are like little dates to him. he enjoys the domesticity of it.

Beomgyu

does not make a list ever. goes in with a cart and hopes of remembering what was missing in the fridge. even if he had a list, he would never stick to it. he gets so distracted by random little snacks and always forgets to grab something important. he’s so grateful that you back him up and save his ass all the time (aka: you make a list so he doesn’t have to go back to the store a second time).

taehyun

he goes in with a shopping list and sticks to the list. he lowkey gets a little annoyed when you wander off and then grab 100 things you don’t really need. he won’t verbalize it but he kinda side eyes you when you show him everything you found on your side quest. he gets over it pretty quick because he loves hearing you yap about the little cat treats you ended up finding for his cat. overall, a very enjoyable experience.

huening kai

You have to have him fugitive out what he’s missing. when you arrive, you grab a cart and start walking but after making a whole lap around the store, there nothing in your cart! You turn to kai, “hey, didn’t we come because you needed food?” He quickly remembers and gets shy. He was so excited to be out with you that he forgot he was grocery shopping. He’s so adorable so he can get away with being forgetful.

#txt imagines #txt headcanons #txt reactions #txt fluff #txt x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #huening kai x reader #yeonjun x reader #taehyun x reader

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moechies · 5 months ago

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౨ৎ ⋆ pinky promise! ꨄ toji fushiguro

sypnosis: pinky promises with your big endearing husband

content warnings 𝜚 𓈒 1.4kwords ꒱ angst w/ comfort ending, fluff, reader cries :<, big soft amazing husband toji

author’s note : dis dumb idea popped up into my head during a break ‘nd i couldn’t stop thinking about it all dayyy!! fic may be a little self indulgent and delusional but :( fun fact,, yv can’t deal with angst where the charac dies because it actually makes so sad so i have to give dem a happy ending :,3

enjoy !1!1!

it’s dumb.

pinky promises at your grown age, intertwining fingers with another and pressing a chaste kiss to your thumb to seal it. you’re not a kid anymore.

in fact, toji thinks it’s dumb too.

the moment you told him about the scarcity of pinky promises, and how much they meant to you, he laughed. he held you in his arms tightly on the cushioned couch of your shared living room, chuckling as you verbally beat him up about laughing at you.

“i’m serious, stop laughing !”

“‘m sorry doll, but that’s ridiculous.”

“nuh uh, it’s not.” you stuff a chip in his mouth, “if you wanna date me, y’have to do pinky promises with me.”

his eyes bore into your cheeky grin, what a contagious little thing. he can’t help but crack a smile at the childish request, mumbling a little something under his breath before you poke at his cheek.

“what did you say?!” you yelp, fingers pulling at his cheeks.

“nothin,’ doll, don’t worry about it.” he grins before gently tugging his face away from your assaulting fingers, careful not to embarrass your little ego. you pout, but don’t forget about your original question to the man,

“so? y’have to do it, because you can’t break up with me..” you pout at the thought, head lowering in hopes that he’d fall for your pity trap and subconsciously agree.

he laughs. toji isn’t dumb, not even close. “okay, i’ll do those childish little promises with you.”

“they’re not childish, toji!”

“they are.”

“they’re not !”

“they.. definitely are.” he snickers.

“fine. whatever. can we make our first promise, then?” you hold out a pinky to his face, nicely manicured with a pretty slim band on your ring finger.

you tug on his larger hand, pulling on the pinky that he purposefully clenched into his fist. “let go, toji!” you squeal, attempting to pull his finger away from the inside of his palm, but he keeps a firm grip to get a reaction out of you. he decides it’s enough when he sees your mouth open, obviously resorting to biting.

“alright, alright, here.” he huffs, pointing out his pinky mirroring yours.

your smile is magnetic, eyes as big as doe’s as you intertwine your pinky into his. “okay, what should our first promise be?”

“you decide cutie.”

“mm,” your brows furrow, “kay, you have to promise to love me forever.”

“dumb girl. that’s a given. no?”

“doesn’t matter!” you shake your head, “y’can’t ever break a promise! ever. this is just confirmation, okay?” you grin, kissing the man on the cheek when he nods stiffly.

“okay, say it then.”

“i’ll love you, my sweet girl, forever.” he can’t help but smile when your face flushes, lips quivering slightly almost as if you’re nervous. your eyes are hardly able to look into his, as if two highschool virgins who just shared their first kiss.

“k-kay,” you giggle, “i promise to love you forever too, toji.” toji hums, “that’s right.”

“okay, now, you have to kiss your thumb. we hafta do it at the same time.”

“for what ?”

“to seal it, toji ! so you can never go back on it.”

he kisses the tip of his thumb simultaneously as you nip yours, diamond eyes staring into yours. you grow flustered, hand which had been intertwined with his lightly slapping against his face to stop his staring.

“stop lookin’ at me like that!”

.⋆*

you subconsciously turn your body away from your husband, moaning and writhing in your sleep. beads of sweat crown on your forehead as your mewls grow loud, waking toji up in a cold sweat.

he fumbles to you, shaking your arm slightly in order to wake you. your short sniffles make his heart drop, pulling himself over you to see your face.

you’re crying.

a singular tear beads in the corner of your eye, limping down the bridge of your nose before spilling onto the white sheets. toji watches you intently, still attempting to awaken you without scaring you soulless.

“c’mon sweet thing, wake up.” he whispers, adjusting and pulling your body close into his, snug against his chest. he feels a slight tickle against his bare pecs when your head falls into and against his shoulder, watching your lashes slowly trickle open, eyelids fluttering rapidly.

you scramble gently before you’re aware, giving in and falling pliantly against your husband as he coos.

he feels his heart ache when you nudge yourself further into his body, wrapping your smaller arms around his torso, mumbling incoherent nothings into his chest with unnoticed tears.

“t— toji , d-don—“

“come ‘ere, doll. tell me what’s wrong? hm? ‘s alright.” he coos, laying low so that you’re face to face, and no longer hiding against his chest. his lips come to press a warm chaste kiss against your forehead, thumb soothing over your messy baby hairs as he reads into your expression.

“t-toji.” you sniffle, attempting your best to pull yourself together to rid the weight off your chest. “‘s just me, doll.” he grins.

“toji, can we make a promise? pinky promise? p-please?” you stutter, and it rips him to pieces. to see you so vulnerable, eyes full of innocent pain, as if you were once again, a kid who had just gotten told no.

he wanted to see it back, yours bright eyes so full of life. and looking into your crystalline ones now, he almost didn’t know if he would ever have it back.

“y-yeah, of course, sweet thing. what’s wrong ?”

“promise,” you sniffle,

“promise you’ll always be h-here, always gonna come home to me, and we’ll live happily ever after. o-okay?”

he feels a lump grow in his throat.

so desperate, so eager to say ‘yes, i promise,’ but yet when he opens his mouth to speak, there’s nothing; not even a squeak. so silent you could hear a pin drop.

his chest tightens when he feels your pinky point out from your fist below the sheets, feeling your hand slowly drag against the blanket, bringing it up towards his face. his chest aches, staring into your clueless-like eyes with a gaze he never once had before.

“please, pinky p-promise, toji?” the silence carried you on edge, bottom lip quivering as tears thread along your lash line threatens to spill.

“doll, i can’t.” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss onto the back of your hand.

and there it was, that look, almost as if he had betrayed you, told you he didn’t love you. he feels his world crash down, as so do you at the sudden beam of reality, the cruel world you and your lover had been stuffed in.

“b-but—“

“i can’t, doll. i can’t lie t’you like that. y’said i can never break your pinky promises, hm?“

“yes but—“ his thumb swipes across your flushed cheeks, barely holding himself together having to look into your broken expression. eyes full of hopelessness, and it breaks his heart.

“don’t cry, baby.” he kisses the tip of your nose,

“y’know i’d give everythin’ to be able to promise you that if i could.”

and you sob.

hopelessly into the man’s chest, holding him impossibly close as he does the same back. his arm splayed across your back, pulling you in tight as he shushes your cries. “baby, don’t cry. look at me. please?” you shake your head, sniffling into his collar before he takes the matter into his own hands, tipping your chin to look at him.

you attempt to refuse, but he leaves you no chance to be let off.

“doll.”

“hnn.. stop,” you writhe in his grip, just the very least bit annoyed that he wouldn’t let you cry in peace.

“i promise, i’ll find you in every life time. anything i am, anywhere ill be, i promise. i’ll find you. okay? i’ll pinky promise you that.” he glances down before tugging your hand towards him, pressing 2 light kisses on your hand. one on the fingers of your clenched fist, finger prodding against the tight clench before pressing another kiss onto your palm.

“i pinky promise doll. i’ll love you beyond death doing us part.”

he smiles, watching your expression turn lighter than before, sniffles turning quiet before pointing out a weak pinky towards him.

“i promise— pinky promise, i-i’ll love you beyond death doing us part, toji.”

“mhm.” he mumbles, pressing a kiss onto his fingertip, and watching you do the same.

“toji, i love you.” a dumb fat smile grows across his face, and before you know it, he’s smothering your damped face with gentle kisses. “t-toji stop !” and he sighs with relief when he hears you giggle, finally stopping as he trails down your neck to hide into the short crevice of your collarbone.

“i’ll love you more than you’ll ever know, doll.”

#toji fluff #fushiguro toji x reader #toji <3 #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #fanfiction♪♬♫

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laurenairay · 3 months ago

Text

felt like magic - N. Hischier

Summary: Nico has been pining for years – maybe this summer is a chance to finally do something about his feelings for you.

I’m jumping in as a pinch-hitter as part of @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange 2k24, with a Nico Hischier story for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten! I really hope you enjoy this – I had a lot of fun creating something from the prompts you gave me. And who doesn’t love Summer Nico?

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: pining, childhood friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, some bad language

Title (and song lyrics) from Caffeine, by Jack Kays

Stay with me, If it’s not our time then will you wait for me? I know that we’re young, but this is destiny I couldn’t be me without you, without you

Travelling from Bern to Zurich wasn’t something you’d do for just anyone. An hour and a half driving across the country, surrounded by drivers who were just as impatient to get through their journeys as you were? Not your idea of fun. At least the destination was more than worth it.

“Happy birthday Jonas!”

The man in question turned around at the sound of your voice, a big grin sliding onto his face.

“You made it, liebling! Thanks for coming!” Jonas said happily.

It wasn’t every year that you got to celebrate the birthday of one of your favourite people – early May wasn’t exactly the most consistent time of year for hockey players after all. And the last thing you wanted to do was remind him of the early end to his season. So when Jonas had called you to say that he was hosting a birthday party at his house in Zurich and invited you to spend the weekend, there was no way you were saying no.

“As if I’d miss the event of the summer,” you teased.

Jonas just beamed at you.

“Schatzi! You survived the A1!”

You peered around Jonas’s broad shoulders to see another one of your favourite people – Nico. It was through Nico, one of your childhood best friends – that you’d met Jonas in the first place so you should’ve guessed that he wouldn’t be too far away. Usually you would’ve made the journey with Nico, both of you coming from Bern after all, but he’d already been visiting in Zurich so you’d been stuck with a solo trip this time.

And damn did he look good. It wasn’t something that you let yourself think about often, being just his friend, but Nico was genuinely one of the most handsome people you’d ever seen, let alone become good friends with. It wouldn’t do you any good to travel down that road of thoughts though, so you were always careful to nip those feelings in the bud. You were friends. Great friends. Incredible friends, and that’s how it was always going to be.

“I’m here,” you mused, “had to greet the birthday boy before anyone else.”

“Yeah don’t be jealous,” Jonas teased.

Interestingly, Nico blushed slightly and glared at the taller man, before clearing his throat. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll grab something myself in a minute, but thank you,” you said, smiling sweetly, “Let me just give Jonas his birthday present first.”

You handed over the thick envelope, Jonas eagerly ripping into it, making you laugh softly.

“Oh shit, you’re the best,” Jonas gasped.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased.

“What did you get?” Nico asked, curious.

“A tattoo voucher. Far more than enough to cover the gap fillers I’ve been looking at getting. This is amazing, thank you, this is way too generous,” Jonas explained, looking gratefully at you.

“You’re welcome. I know you’ve been talking about filling the spaces for a while,” you shrugged.

While you didn’t have any tattoos of your own, you knew how Nico and Jonas felt about their own tattoos, and how much they meant to them – it was an easy decision.

“Are we ever going to get you into a tattoo chair, hm?” Nico teased.

“Maybe if I have someone holding my hand,” you teased back, trying to fight the giddy heat rising to your cheeks.

His lips parted slightly in shock, speechless for once, Jonas just cackling at his response.

“And on that note, I’m going to go say hi to Andreas and Julia. See you both later?” you grinned.

“Yeah, see you liebling,” Jonas nodded.

Nico just nodded, cheeks aflame. His silence was a bit concerning – he wasn’t exactly one to be shy or awkward, especially not around you – but you knew Jonas would figure out whatever was going on with him. Hopefully.

“So that was smooth,” Jonas mused.

“Shut up,” Nico groaned.

“No really, that was one of your best efforts,” Jonas snickered.

“You’re the worst,” Nico shot back.

He ran a hand through his hair, watching you walk across the backyard with a confidence he wished he had. There was just something about you that had always reduced him to feeling like a hapless fool, ever since he’d first moved to Bern as a teenager and met you within the first few weeks of living there. You’d been a constant feature in his life for 10 years now, always there with a wide smile and open arms whether it was in Bern, Zurich, or New Jersey, and he didn’t know what he would do with his life if you weren’t in it.

Nico was head over heels in love with you, and you had no idea.

Everyone else in his life knew how he felt for you, obviously, not just Jonas. His parents, his siblings, even Jack had figured it out within an hour of your first visit to New Jersey all those years ago. If Jack Hughes of all people could read it off his face then he didn’t know how much more obvious he could be – other than actually telling you with words, of course.

But how could he say anything to you, when he knew for certain that you didn’t feel the same way?

“Are you sure your billet family don’t mind us being down here?”

Nico smiled down at you, shaking his head. The two of you were down in the basement where his billet family’s entertainment room was, the rest of the house having gone out for the night, and Nico had invited you round for a movie night. He’d only been in Bern for a few weeks, and you were the only non-hockey friend he’d made so far, so he hadn’t hesitated to invite you over to get to know you better.

There was just something about you that made him want to put in the effort

“They really don’t mind. They even left us money for takeout,” he insisted.

“Oh, well alright then. What are we watching first?”

The evening flew by, pizza ravenously consumed between movies, the two of you shifting closer and closer on the sofa until you were fully leaning up against each other, Nico’s hockey bulk giving you a solid pillow to rest on. He didn’t mind it at all, if he was being honest with himself, although he wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

“That was so terrible though! They had no chemistry at all!” you giggled as the credits rolled.

“I guess not all actors are going to like kissing everyone they work with,” Nico snickered.

Even in the dim light of the room, he noticed the heat that rushed to your cheeks.

“What?” Nico frowned.

“It’s nothing,” you said, shaking your head quickly.

He might not know you that well yet, but he knew that was a lie.

“Come on, tell me what’s wrong?” he prompted.

“You’re going to think I’m stupid.”

“We’re 15 years old – everything we do is stupid,” Nico pointed out.

You huffed out a laugh, breath a little shaky. “I was just thinking about the fact that I wouldn’t know what it was like.”

“What what was like?” Nico asked, confused.

“To kiss someone,” you all but whispered.

His lips parted in surprise, not expecting those words to fall from your lips, and you immediately grimaced.

“See I told you it was stupid,” you groaned.

As you shifted to move away from him, Nico instinctively gripped your shoulder, not letting you go. You startled but looked up at him, staying silent in confusion.

“It’s not stupid. Not everyone has had their first kiss. You’re only 15,” he murmured.

“You’ve kissed someone though?”

Nico bit his bottom lip but nodded. He’d had multiple kisses, all harmless, all essentially meaningless, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Kissing was fun – he always liked the way it made his heart race with adrenaline.

And it was the memory of that feeling that fuelled his bravery.

“I could kiss you, if you want?”

“What?”

He took a steadying breath, before nodding. “I could kiss you. So you have a good first kiss, with a friend.”

There was nothing worse than doing something scary for the first time only to have someone make you feel like an idiot. If Nico could stop that feeling for you, then he absolutely would.

“Are you sure?” you said hesitantly, “You really don’t have to.”

“Of course I am,” he said, smiling to reassure you.

He could feel how fast your heart was beating as he rested a hand on the side of your neck, echoing the beating of his own heart. You closed your eyes as he leaned down towards you, making him smile slightly before he pressed his lips to yours. As he slowly kissed you, he could feel how hesitant and nervous you were, but as you continued to kiss him back he didn’t regret his offer for a moment. Nico kissed you over and over and over again, almost feeling dizzy with how the embrace was consuming him, his thumb stroking over your jaw as you melted into his arms. This was heaven. This was bliss. This was everything he didn’t realise he’d wanted.

After what felt like hours, but could only have been a few moments, you pulled away from the kiss. Nico made a soft noise of protest, opening his eyes to see you looking stunned, lips as swollen as his felt.

“Schatzi,” he managed to murmur.

You just bit your bottom lip, smiling softly, before leaning backwards out of his hands. He tried not to frown, not understanding why his heart was pounding, even though you didn’t look mad.

“I should probably get home. My parents will be wondering where I am by now,” you said, voice quiet, almost as if you were still a little in shock.

Nico glanced at the clock on the wall, grimacing at the late hour. Where had the time gone? Did you really have to leave, after a kiss like that?

“O-Okay, if you’re sure. Text me when you get back safe?”

“I will. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

After that kiss 10 years ago, the two of you had never spoken about it again. The morning after you’d acted like nothing had ever happened, and Nico had been too nervous to say anything to risk losing the blossoming friendship. He knew now that it was his first experience of heartbreak, as youthful and innocent as that had been – and he also knew that’s when he’d first started having feelings for you. What was meant to have been a friend helping out another friend had started a decade of unrequited feelings, and it was far too late for him to say anything now.

He could only hold on to the incredible friendship that had grown between the two of you with both hands. If this was all he could ever have then he was going to cherish it, no matter how what Jonas said.

“Come on bud, let’s get you a drink,” Jonas said, smiling sadly.

Nico huffed out a laugh but nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m going to need one.”

Hours passed by, drinking, eating, catching up with friends and making new ones, until the evening was late and only the last few straggling partygoers were making their way out of the house. You’d volunteered to start cleaning up while Jonas said goodbye to his guests, needing something to do after a long day of socialising. You were making good progress on cleaning up the empty food containers and empty drink bottles when Nico wandered into the living room, holding out a bottle of water for you.

“Looks like thirsty work,” he grinned, leaning against the arm of the sofa.

“Thanks, you should try it some time,” you teased, taking the bottle from him.

You unscrewed the cap and took a couple of long gulps with your head tilted back, needing the refreshment more than you thought, but when you put the cap back on the bottle, you noticed Nico staring at you transfixed.

“What?” you frowned, “Did I spill some water?”

“No, no, it isn’t that,” he said quickly, cheeks heating.

Why was he blushing? What was going through his mind?

“Then what is it?” you prompted, putting the bottle down on the table.

“It’s just…I was thinking about…well…”

“Yes?” you prompted again, a soft smile on your face at his awkwardness.

“It wouldn’t take a tattoo for me to hold your hand,” he blurted out.

“What?”

What was he talking about…oh. Oh. What?

“Wait, shit, no, that came out wrong…”

Nico trailed off with a groan, punctuated only by the sound of a snort. You whirled around to see Jonas standing in the doorway, and he cackled at the look on both your faces.

“Yeah I’m going upstairs. Have fun dealing with your years of feelings,” Jonas grinned, shaking his head.

Oh damn. Jonas knew?

Wait, years of feelings?

With that he left you and Nico alone, a murmur suspiciously sounding like ‘lovestruck idiots’ lingering behind him. Hesitantly you looked back at Nico to see his face full of embarrassment, cheeks tinged with red.

“What was Jonas talking about?” you asked, voice a little shaky.

Because you were damn sure that Jonas didn’t know a thing about how you felt for Nico. So he had to be talking about Nico…which only succeeded in sending your heart into a flutter.

“This was not how I wanted it all to come out,” he murmured.

“Nico, please. No more talking in circles,” you all but begged.

He inhaled shakily but nodded, finally looking you in the eyes once more. “I’ve loved you ever since the movie night where we kissed.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “That was 10 years ago, Nico. We were 15! You’ve loved me since then?”

Ten long years.

“I know,” he winced, “But yes, since then.”

“You never said anything?” you said hesitantly.

Not about the kiss, and not about his feelings.

“You didn’t either? I mean, like, we never talked about the kiss. At all. I just assumed you didn’t say anything because you regretted it, and there was no way I wanted to lose you as a friend,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Of all the things he could’ve said.

“I thought you regretted it,” you admitted, “You were this up-and-coming hockey star, and I was just the neighbour down the street.”

Nico burst out laughing, hands rising to cover his face briefly.

“We’re both idiots,” he managed to choke out between laughs, “maybe me more than you.”

Maybe.

Maybe you both were idiots, but that didn’t mean you had to waste any more time. If Nico really wanted to try being more than friends, you weren’t about to stop him.

“Hey Nico?” you said, reaching forward to place a hand on his chest.

You could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, the rapid beat of his heart, but it was the hope in his eyes that gave you courage.

“Yes, schatzi?”

“It’s been a long ten years…kiss me again?”

Nico’s only response was to do as you’d asked.

I’m sitting patiently, Hoping for the day to come where you can see, All the stars, they fall in line for you and me, I can’t wait for you to see too, yes, you’ll do.

#my writing #nico hischier fic #the summer fic exchange 2k24 #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fanfic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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