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spidercatweb · 2 months ago

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Book Return ★ Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: none! fem!reader, r wears glasses, r is wearing a skirt, no y/n, fluff!! GLASSES REID!!! Great Gatsby mention because it was the first book I could think of...

Request: "Hello, can I request spencer reid x nerdy-girly reader whos work in museum or library and they are smitten with each other? thanks x"

Description: r works at a library, Spencer comes to get his usual absurd amount of books, they have some very cute interactions, Spencer gathers the courage to ask r out on a date :)

Word Count: 1393

A/n: had a sudden burst of inspiration and wrote this all in one night! I hope you enjoy!! Thank you for the request! <3

It’s a lovely Tuesday morning, and you’re working at your local library. It’s been a quiet, peaceful morning. You’d just handed a pile of picture books to the mother of a cheery little girl.

“Enjoy your books!” You wave goodbye to the little girl, who excitedly waves back. Her mother gives you a warm smile. The girl is already reaching for the stack of books in her mother's hands as she walks, asking for a specific one, eager to read it. You smile to yourself. She'll definitely grow up to be an avid reader, she reminds me of myself.

As you sit back down in your chair behind the checkout desk, you spot your favourite visitor entering through the glass doors of the library. Your heart flutters at the sight of him, you hadn’t seen him in nearly two weeks.

You watch the tall, brown haired man painstakingly slot an obnoxiously tall stack of books into the book return. You grin when you notice how your outfit almost matches his, a dark brown cardigan with an off-white top underneath, and a long brown skirt, which matches the cardigan. He wears a checkered brown sweater vest with a white button up underneath. His pants are a shade of dark brown, almost the same as your skirt. Maybe you should stop staring and go help him, that pile of books doesn't seem to be getting any smaller.

“I haven't seen you in a while, where have you been? And would you like some help with those?”

“Oh! Hi! Um- yes I'd like some help please, that would be great.” He nods and smiles at you, he must be embarrassed by the amount of books he's returning because his face gains a slight red tint.

You take half of his pile of books into your hands and begin slotting them into the return one by one. “So.. why haven't I seen you in like, two weeks?” You repeat your first question, stealing a glance at his focused expression. He's wearing his glasses… He looks so pretty with his glasses.

“Um- I've been- I was away for work, we had a case in Oregon that went on for way longer than expected.” He had told you previously about his tiring work at the BAU, and how he and his team would go away for days at a time to catch serial killers. You thought it was impressive that he had the time to read so many books while still keeping up with his job.

“Well, I- we missed you here-” I missed him? Why did I say that? I barely know the man. “You're much more entertaining than the crabby students who study here for hours.” This was true, just last week you'd had to ask a group of students to leave for being too disruptive. They certainly did not appreciate that.

Spencer huffs out a laugh at your remark, “I’d hope so.”

You both finish putting the last of the books into the slot, then turn to face each other,. Sstanding there awkwardly for a moment. “Are you just here to return books today, or will you be checking out some more?” You tilt your head at him with a smile, waiting for a response.

“I was wondering if the copy of The Great Gatsby had been returned? I couldn't find it last time, I've been wanting to re-read it for a while.”

“Yes! I actually saved it for you, it's at my desk!” You grin as you step happily to your desk, pleased with yourself that you had remembered to save the book for him. He follows, fidgeting with his hands and mirroring your grin. She remembered to save the book just for me. Does she do that for anyone else?

“Here you go!” You hand him the book and hope your cheeks don't look as warm as they feel. Maybe that doesn't matter though, because his seem much pinker than usual. He gently takes the book from you, then quickly inspects it, flipping through a few pages and looking at the cover.

“Thank you.” He smiles. For some reason, he seems more nervous than usual today. He's more fidgety, and can't seem to form a sentence without stumbling through it. Interesting. It's not like you're any better, though. You've been avoiding eye contact with him as much as possible since you'd developed your little crush on him about five months ago. Every time you were around him, your hands felt clammy and your heart felt like it was racing. Maybe the crush wasn't so little.

★ ★ ★

You leave him alone to gather his comically large pile of books. It takes him about half an hour to finally finish. He's clearly carefully selected each one and taken his time to decide.

You're doodling mindlessly on a sticky note when he comes up to the checkout counter, setting the heavy pile in front of you. He grabs your attention with a meek “Hi”.

“Sorry! Got distracted!” A nervous laugh escapes you as you adjust your glasses. Grabbing the book scanner, you wait for him to place his library card on your desk. Clearly distracted by something - you - his mind goes blank for a moment.

“Oh, card, yeah, sorry.” He searches his pockets and eventually finds it, placing it in front of you.

“No need to be sorry.” You shake your head, disregarding his apology.

As you scan his books, he waits patiently, tapping his fingers on your desk in a quiet rhythm. Usually, he would talk to you. He'd even stay for a while if the library wasn't too busy. But clearly, there was something on his mind. He looks around at the various items on your desk. Many sticky notes filled with reminders and quotes, a small pile of books that you read while you aren't busy, a hand painted mug that holds bright colored pens. All of it was just so you. Or at least, what he perceived you to be. And he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't love the idea of you, if he said he didn't want to get to know you more.

“Alright, enjoy your reading!” You nudge the pile of books towards him and set his library card on top. He slides the card off of the pile and puts it back into his pocket, then carefully takes the towering pile of books.

“Thank you! Have a nice day!” He turns to leave.

“You too!” You wave, even though his back is facing you.

Just before he reaches the doors, he spins on his heel and walks right back over to you, a nervous look on his face. He bites the inside of his lip, like he's hesitating to say something. You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Forget something?”

“No, actually. Well- yes, but.” He stammers, books still in hand. “I was wondering if you'd maybe like to go out for coffee sometime? With me?” He squints his eyes slightly, mentally preparing himself for rejection.

You smile, feeling your face heat up once again.

“Like, on a date?” You hold back a stupid grin.

“Well- only- only if that's what you'd like. Yeah.” He nods, his face turning a deep shade of pink.

“I'd love that, yeah.” You nod back.

“Really?” He smiles wider.

“Mhm”

He huffs out a nervous laugh, “Okay, how does Saturday sound?”

“Saturday is perfect, just tell me the time and place and I'll be there.” Do I sound too eager? I don't care.

“9:30am? At the café just across the street?” This was clearly what he'd been thinking about all morning.

“That sounds wonderful, I'll see you there.” You nod excitedly, failing to suppress a giddy smile.

“Great.”

“Great.” He stands there for a moment, beaming at the thought of getting to spend more time with you. “So… I'll see you then?” Just one more confirmation to prove it was real.

“See you then.” You nod, he nods back.

He turns to exit once again, making his way out of the building. Once he's no longer in sight, you look around the empty library before giggling to yourself and spinning around in your chair.

You have a big, dorky grin on your face for the rest of the day. You can't wait for your date with Spencer.

Thank you for reading! Feedback is very much appreciated! <3 Perhaps I'll write a part 2 of their date if that's what people would like?

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x librarian!reader #🪻📖#🪻🐝

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annabelle--cane · 7 months ago

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so imagine you're me. and you go to university. and on tuesday the twenty-fourth of september at around 11am you get an email saying that you have a package to pick up at your dorm area's mail desk (let's call this desk A). and you think "hmm, that's weird" because you did not order anything and currently only two people have your exact address and they also didn't send you anything. so your immediate thought is "maybe this is Stalker Dad" because Stalker Dad has a history of finding out the addresses of where you live and sending you things. and you think "hhhhhhh. hopefully it's at least something fun like a chocolate box or whatever."

so you go about the rest of your day and then go to the mail desk at around 8:30pm. and the guy at the desk says there are actually TWO packages. one is a vote by mail application, and that makes sense, it has clearly been redirected from one of your old campus addresses, he gives it to you, that's fine. the other was accidentally sent to the wrong desk (let's call this desk B) in a building that's half a mile away. the guy at the desk says you can either go get it now or wait the four days it'll take to get redirected back to desk A. you want to get this done now and you're also maybe a little bit obsessed with finding out what the damn package actually is. you go to desk B, you scan your ID card, the guy at the desk looks for your package, comes back, reviews something on his computer, and says they actually already sent it back to desk A, and you can either wait for an email alerting you that it's arrived or just check back in four days.

four days pass. it is now friday the twenty-seventh. you go back to desk A. you scan your ID card. the girl at the desk says "ah, sorry, it looks like your package got rerouted to desk B, you can go pick it up from there if you want." you say yes. I know it got rerouted to desk B. they told me a few days ago that they had already sent it. the girl at the desk says "hmm. it might need another day, I'd say to wait to get an email about it."

a calendar week passes. it is now friday the fourth of october. you have received no email about the mystery package. you go back to desk A, you scan your card, the girl at the desk says "ah, sorry, it's at desk B, it will take a few days to get rerouted." you inform her of the last two weeks' events and she says "oh I'm so sorry it should not be taking this long, some weird glitch must have happened." she tells you that the rerouted packages from the last week were all delivered that morning and yours was not among them, your package was logged at desk B as being medium sized so it can't have been some error where they counted the vote by mail application twice, and that it didn't scan right at desk B so they don't even know which mail carrying service delivered it, and knowing that would have at least given you a vague clue as to the contents. she tells you your best shot is to go check desk B again.

so you go about the rest of your day and then go to desk B at around 5:30pm. you scan your ID card, the girls at the desk say there was a package but they sent it on to desk A. you say "well here's the thing--" and tell all. they say "what the fuck." all four of them crowd around a single computer screen to figure out what the hell is going on. one of them goes into the mail room to physically look but comes back empty handed. "the thing is," they say, "is that if there were two packages then you should have gotten two emails, you're sure you only got one?" you're definitely sure, and there are definitely two packages logged on their side. they don't know how this could have happened. they say the last thing recorded is that after spending too long in the system without being picked up, it got sent to the main desk of your campus (let's call this desk C), and that usually means that it then got returned to sender from there.

you go back to your dorm room. you decide to make one last attempt. you call desk C, because it is a mile away and you cannot be bothered to physically go there unless you know you will return victorious. the guy on the phone has you hold while he searches up your name for a suspiciously long time, and then he says that yes, there were two packages, and they entered the system ten days ago, and one got sent on there and then returned to sender. he then says that a third package was registered at desk B earlier that day, but then adds that that was just the mystery package getting pinged again for some reason and nothing is actually there. you end the call.

your mystery delivery existed, at no point was it possible for you to pick it up, it never got scanned correctly, and it is now Gone Forever. no one on da planet earth knows what this thing was. you don't even know if it was actually from Stalker Dad or something much, much weirder. you immediately burst into flames and die.

#marina marvels at life

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bekkachaos · 21 days ago

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Tease Tidbit Tuesday 🔥

now, I told myself I'd stop starting new wips, one of these days I'll listen 🤷🏼‍♀️

this comes from what I like to call the "oops I thought we were going to die so I confessed my love to you but we actually didn't and now I've made it awkward" fic.

so here goes!

"Were you really just not going to say anything?" Buck asked, a mixture of hurt and anger in his glassy eyes. "Ever?"

"Of course I wasn't going to say anything!" he says far too quickly, and Buck almost recoils from him. Eddie steps forward, trying to regain some of the ground between them. "I couldn't."

"Did you think I wouldn't be open to it? That the only time I might even consider kissing you back would be when there was no time left for either of us?"

"No," Eddie shook his head, bile rising in his throat. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. "No, Buck, it wasn't about you."

That seemed to make it even worse.

"So, what? You just wanted to live out some... fantasy you had before you died?" he asked, the anger winning out and his nostrils flaring, like he was trying to control the emotion that was so blatantly written all over his face. "You thought 'hey, Buck's into guys, he won't say no', that we'd die and no one would ever have to know about it? And you wouldn't have to deal with it later?"

Eddie's jaw was frozen shut, his teeth clamped so tightly they were in danger of breaking.

He was so impossibly wrong, but so incredibly right at the same time.

tags for anyone who has things to share x

@monsterrae1 @thelikesofus @eddiebabygirldiaz @bi-buckrights @dr-shortsighted-owl @elvensorceress @loveyourownsmiilee @smilingbuckley @lonelychicago @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @jackluvsdaniel @morose-fan @bidisasterevankinard @thewolvesof1998 @weewootruck @daffi-990 @spagheddiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @wildfluorescent @diazsdimples @steadfastsaturnsrings @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @jesuisici33 @hippolotamus @tizniz @bucksbiawakening @gayhoediaz @inell @whatwouldeddiedo @bigfootsmom @eddieera @eddieuberdiaz

#tease tidbit tuesday #buddie #buddie fic #911 #911 fic #buddie wip #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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celestie0 · 1 year ago

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nanami kento x reader | drabble

coney island. where did my lover go?

"𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲."

ᰔ pairing. husband nanami x wife reader (f)

ᰔ summary. you're sitting on a bench in coney island, the place you and nanami met all those years ago, to talk about where your relationship went wrong. heavily inspired by the song "coney island" by taylor swift from her album 'evermore'

ᰔ warnings/tags. some pretty heavy angst. mention of blood/wounds.

ᰔ word count. 1.3k

a/n. hellooo i just had an itching to write something angsty, and i came up with something while listening to music. hope you enjoy :')

you're sitting on a bench in coney island, wondering why nanami hasn't arrived by your side yet.

pulling back the sleeve of your blouse, you glance at your watch. the evening has settled in, and it was well past the time the two of you had agreed to meet. here, where everything began all those years ago. this place, where your soul has been left to bleed dry.

it was nanami who told you not to feed the ducks any bread. before you knew him, that was all you would do. white milk bread, torn apart into pieces, tossed into the pond in front of this bench for the quacking ducks to feed on with delight. but nanami told you that's not right. he told you that the ducks cannot digest the bread the same way that you and him do. you can relate to the ducks today, unable to absorb and understand the pain within you, and in a blink of an eye, that pain takes a seat next to you.

"hello, sweetheart," nanami says, voice soft as it always is. his familiar stature is beside you in your periphery.

your eyes flicker to your watch once more. "you're late, ken."

"i know," is all he says. "forgive me?"

you do.

"i thought you were lost somewhere," you tell him, the thought sending a shiver through you. or perhaps it was the cold.

"i wasn't lost. i could never be lost, coming to this place," he assures. you glance at the skin on his hands. he looks pale, like he hasn't seen the sun in days.

you still wonder if he's lost. you wonder if that man you loved was still out there somewhere, simply wandering, trying to find his way back to you. but the disappointment is palpable, and when you close your eyes tight, the chill of the air once again bites through your bones to silence all your hope.

"i looked for you everywhere. do you know that?" you say to him. "at the park entry, across the field. by the church. i even walked by the merry-go. and i cried when i couldn't see you standing there to watch me on the blue pegasus."

from the corner of your eye, you see him turn his head to glance at you. you can see he's wearing a grey suit, the same one he wore exactly one year ago today. the one you said goodbye to him in. "it's been a long time, love. i'd wish you would let those memories go."

"we were supposed to be married forever," you barely whisper, glancing down at your ring still adorning your left hand. your eyes flicker to his hand, and the absence of the silver promise on his finger makes your soul sulk. "you've moved on from me, haven't you?"

nanami rubs his left finger with his thumb, like the sensation of the ring was a phantom limb. "i have. and i want you to move on from me as well. one day, you'll be too old to care. so don't spend another moment of your youth thinking about me."

your youth was him, from the day you met him on this bench. sprawled across it on a warm summer tuesday, reading your paperback of les misérables that had a worn out spine, gust of wind peeling a sticky note away from the page and delivering it to the front of this tall, handsome man that was walking by. he had bent down to pick it up for you, and curiously chose to read it first before handing it back. 'to love or have loved, that is enough' it said, one of your favorite quotes from the book. you didn't know what it meant at the time, but you knew what it meant now.

"were we just fools, ken?" you ask him out of nowhere. "if i had tried harder, could we have still been together? if i had let you know what it takes to be by my side, would you have still chosen to fall in love with me in the first place? how can i shake the thought that this was all a mistake?"

he shifts in his seat beside you. you still can't brave yourself to look at him. you haven't looked him in the eyes once this entire time. and you register that there's no heat from his body, leaving you feeling barren and cold.

"i would've loved you in any lifetime. there is nothing you could have done that would've kept me away," he tells you.

"so then you'll haunt me in every lifetime, too?" you ask. "a universe away from here, i'll still see your face everywhere i go?"

"no. i agreed to meet you here today to tell you that it's finally time for you to forget. those dreams of ours, of suburban holidays and tiny fingers, they can belong to someone else," he says to you, "they should belong to someone else."

you shake your head, feeling tears prickle in your eyes. christmas, winter snow, the oaky warmth of the fireplace. fresh spring air, wildflower blossoms, trees turned lush and new. salty air, summer breeze, mist of sprinklers over brown grass and skin. but by the time autumn came, there was nothing left but heartache.

"what if i asked for your forgiveness?" you say. your hands play with the bag of white bread in your lap. you thought he would scold you for it, for not remembering the wellbeing of the ducks, but truthfully you had simply forgotten. because it was like you were the version of yourself before meeting him, and you needed him to save you again.

"there's nothing to forgive," he replies. his voice is hoarse, like he's running out of air to breathe as the sun begins to set over the horizon. like this time spent together was something bought, not gifted.

"i'm sorry," you say, because you felt like you needed to say those words. "i'm sorry for how mean i was to you the last time we spoke. i don't know what got over me, but i really wish you had just stayed." your eyes prick with tears as you stare down at your lap. "i wish you weren't so quick to leave my side, even though i told you to go."

nanami places a hand over yours. you finally notice the scars and open cuts, fresh with blood. "i know, darling. as much as it troubled me to leave, i didn't want to stay and hurt you anymore."

you felt suffocated. "if i could turn back time, i would. i would go back to that moment, last week. and i would tell you to stay, so that i could've had you for the rest of a lifetime."

his thumb runs circles over the skin of your hand, but the movement is rigid and stiff. "was it last week?"

"it was." you're not mistaken, but he will try to convince you otherwise.

"i don't think so, darling."

"it was last week."

"it's been much longer than that. fifty-two fold longer."

yes. today was the anniversary. of when you buried him in the grey suit that he wears right now.

"you see my face wherever you go, hm?" nanami says to you as the tears begin to freely flow down your face. "well, when i got into the accident, the last sight that flashed before me was your face. i'm happy. i'm so happy that the last person i thought of was you."

blinking, wet drops falling onto his pale hand in your lap. "you should've stayed," you whisper. "that night, you should've just stayed with me. i would've said sorry, and i would've loved you forever."

you're sitting on a bench in coney island, wondering where your lover went. because when the sun dips underneath the horizon, his hand disappears from your lap, and you finally turn your head to look at him. but he's gone.

and when you blink the blur of salty tears from your eyes, you realize you were never sitting on that bench, waiting for him. you were standing in front of his gravestone, hoping that he'll talk to you again someday.

a/n. gege would love this one

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

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no more waiting

for @steddielovemonth day four prompt ‘love is being willing to wait for them’

a fix-it for these: steve pov | eddie pov

rated m | 1,094 words | cw: post breakup, implied sexual content | tags: getting back together, angst with a happy ending, mutual pining

🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

Steve should’ve called him Tuesday when the news broke.

And then he should’ve called him Wednesday when he ran into Wayne at the store and he said Eddie was coming home for a bit.

By the time Thursday afternoon came around, he didn’t need to call him. He was standing at Steve’s front door.

“Eddie.”

“Steve.”

It was stilted, more awkward than they’d ever been, even when they “broke up.”

“You just get into town?” Steve asked as if he didn’t know.

“Yeah,” Eddie answered as if he didn’t already find out that Wayne had told Steve his exact travel plans.

“You wanna come in?” Steve asked like he’d die if Eddie said no.

“Yeah, please.” Eddie replied, just short of begging.

Eddie knew where to go, knew how to act like this was his home just like he had for nearly a year before leaving. Before Steve insisted he leave.

He settled on the couch, leaving room for Steve to sit close, but not touching.

Touching would be too much, too painful.

“You saw?” He finally asked, picking at the hole in his jeans.

“Yeah.” Steve reached over to pull Eddie’s fingers away from the string hanging off his pants. He didn’t let go as he spoke. “I’m proud of you.”

Eddie’s eyes bounced between his own, searching for the hint of a lie, jealousy, anything that might give him an excuse to stay away. But as he expected, as he hoped, none of that was in Steve’s eyes.

“It doesn’t mean shit to me,” Eddie admitted.

Steve’s brows furrowed in confusion, his body tensing at the unexpected hostility in Eddie’s tone.

“None of it means a fucking thing to me without you.”

“Eds-“

“I know what we said, I know. But I can’t do it anymore. The first person I wanted to call was you. The first thing I wanted to do was fuck you into the mattress of my bunk on the bus. There’s no world where I can be a rock star without you standing there with me.” Eddie looked down at their joined hands. “I don’t care what it means for me. I don’t care what it means for the band. I don’t care if I have to give it all up tomorrow. I just want you.”

"I won't let you give it up, not now. You finally made it, Eds," Steve pulled one hand away to wipe at his eyes, equal parts happy to hear that Eddie still wanted him and sad that he couldn't have him. "I can't let you live to regret me. I couldn't wake up one day knowing that you blame me for keeping you back."

"Then come with me! Don't keep me back!" Eddie was crying as much as Steve, eyes red like he'd already been crying before he got to Steve's house. "You're keeping yourself back. What are you gonna do when the kids go? They don't wanna stay here, so they'll spread out and you'll still be here. You'll have wasted years being here for them. What about being there for you? What about letting them be there for each other and calling them up once in a while like I do? Like Robin and Nancy do? You don't owe anyone here anything, especially not if it costs you your happiness."

Steve had heard it all before from everyone, even Dustin, even Hopper, but it never really sunk in. It wasn't really now, either, but he was at least trying to think through it.

It made sense, but it always had made sense. It's just that what made the most sense was being here for the people who needed him.

"Do you really think those kids would be upset if you tried to be happy? Do you think they would rather you stay here and be miserable?"

"No." That answer was easy. The kids would never want him to be miserable. Nobody in their group would.

"Then be happy, Stevie. Be happy with me. I'd do anything to keep you happy," Eddie begged, lifting his hands to kiss his knuckles. "I want you to do this with me. I wanna sing to you every night, sweetheart."

"What if you get tired of singing to me every night?"

Eddie shook his head, smiling fondly at the man in front of him. "I can't imagine a life where I'd ever get tired of seeing the way your cheeks turn pink and you get that goofy smile on your face when I look at you from the stage. But if it did, then you can come right back here or go to Robin or anyone, because everyone loves you and wants the best for you."

Steve knew that, always had known that deep down.

"So the guys are just cool with me tagging along?"

"The guys will be thrilled to not have me pouting 22 hours of the day. They'll welcome you with open arms."

Now was when they could seal it with a kiss, maybe even let themselves get carried away, strip off their clothes, hurry through months of yearning in a few minutes. They could take it to the bedroom, or the shower, or the floor if they wanted to risk a sore back. They could leave marks that would take days to fade, and laugh about the way Eddie always, always makes the same whimpering noise when he gets inside Steve. They could, but they don't.

Steve leans his head against Eddie's shoulder and Eddie cups the back of his head, lets his fingers twist in his hair. They both let out a sob, recognition of how much they missed each other, how stupid they were for thinking being apart was better for either of them, finally sinking in.

"I'm sorry." Steve breathed against Eddie's neck, shaky and unsure.

"I'm sorry, too."

They stayed curled up on the couch together for hours, until Dustin showed up yelling about Steve not answering his phone. They hadn't even heard it ring, so wrapped up in their own bubble.

Eddie shooed him away, told him they'd be by to see him later, and surprisingly, Dustin left.

Only then did they manage to get up and go to Steve's bedroom, undressing as they went, lips never far from skin, as they got reacquainted with the taste and feel of each other.

Later ended up being the next morning, but luckily, Dustin didn't say a damn word when they both showed up at his door holding hands and beaming more at each other than at him.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #drabble #post breakup #getting back together #angst with a happy ending #mutual pining

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iwasntstable · 8 months ago

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n.s. | if i'm there

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➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

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I didn't want to believe how much you needed help / And I just left you to be all by yourself / And now I wish I had seen that you weren't doing well / But I just came back to see how hard you fell Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall / You'll have a friend down in Hell after all 　　— If I'm There - Bad Omens

summary: when things start getting bad, you withdraw. ignoring calls and texts, and descending into bad habits as you self-isolate. but noah knows what you're like and he loves you too much to let you suffer alone.

content tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, poor mental health, mentions of disordered eating, discussions of food, self-destructive behaviour, fluff.

word count: 3.8k.

note: having a rough time recently so enjoy the self-indulgent product of my stressing. 　　PS: please tell me if the layout of this post is fucked up so I can fix it for you.

Things are getting bad again. You find your sleep schedule sliding later and later, falling asleep in the early hours of the morning and waking in the afternoon, bypassing the day altogether. Meals are becoming infrequent and poor in quality. Appetite dwindling and opting to eat half a bag of microwave rice at 3am rather than dedicating time to creating a nutritious and satisfying meal. Truth be told, you didn’t have the energy to cook anything more, and the malnutrition itself likely played a part in that lack of energy. The trash was left to build up, and the laundry hadn’t been done in weeks.

The progression of all of this was gradual. So gradual, that by the time you recognised what was happening, it was all but too late to stop the rapid descent into your depression. And as the days go by, you start to withdraw into yourself. Messages from friends begin to go unanswered. You tell yourself you’ll reply later, when you have the mental bandwidth to engage in conversation. But later ends up being not at all. Too many days have passed, and you feel like it’s too late to reply now; you don’t know how. That includes your boyfriend.

　　　　　　　　　　　[Noah 💘]

　　　　　　　　　　　Tuesday 　　　　　　　　　　　10:45AM

— Morning! Do you wanna call later? Miss your voice

morning! I have a headache — right now and I feel like it's not gonna go away :( I'll let you know though. I miss you too ❤️ —

— Aw I'm sorry :( — I hope you feel better soon — Text me later and let me know how you are ❤️

　　　　　　　　　　　02:27PM

— Hey babe how are you feeling?

my head still hurts :( —

— Want me to come over and look after you? — Have you eaten yet?

you don't have to do that, I'd be — shitty company anyway just wanna sleep —

— Okay :( — I'll text you later tonight so you can sleep

　　　　　　　　　　　10:09PM

— How are you feeling? — Are you sleeping? — Hope you’re resting well. Text me when you wake up so I know you’re okay — I love you ❤️ — Goodnight ❤️

　　　　　　　　　　Wednesday 　　　　　　　　　　　08:41AM

— Morning, how’re you feeling?

　　　　　　　　　　　09:13AM

— Are you awake? — Babe, are you okay?

hey! sorry I was still asleep. I feel a — little better but my head still hurts :(

— I’m gonna cancel today and come over — I don’t want you to be alone when you’re not well

no don’t do that, i’m okay really — you know this happens sometimes. I just wanna rest, you don’t have to cancel for me. not when work is important

— You’re important too — Please let me look after you

I love you and I love that — you want to be here for me, but all I want to do right now is sleep

I don’t want you to cancel — important schedules just to watch me sleep all day I’ll feel better soon. just need to give it time. —

— I’d cancel to sit and watch you sleep in a heartbeat — I love you, I just want you to be okay — I have to go, I’ll text you later okay?

I’ll text you back when I can, — if I don’t reply I’m probably asleep so don’t worry have a good day I love you —

　　　　　　　　　　　10:26PM

— Hey babe sorry I didn’t text all day I was so fucking busy — How’re you doing now? — Are you sleeping again?

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 10:31PM]

— Text or call me when you wake up, even if it’s the middle of the night I’ll leave my sound on — I love you ❤️

　　　　　　　　　　Thursday 　　　　　　　　　　　08:41AM

— Hey, are you awake?

　　　　　　　　　　　08:55AM

— Hello??

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 08:59AM]

— Message me when you wake up

　　　　　　　　　　　12:20PM

— Babe?? — I’m worried — Even if you don’t wanna talk can you please let me know you’re okay?

　　　　　　　　　　　12:46PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 12:48PM]

　　　　　　　　　　　01:20PM

hey, sorry I missed your messages — I’m okay sorry for worrying you —

— I was just about to come over — I still might — I’m worried about you

please don’t I just don’t — wanna see anyone right now

— Even me?

I’m sorry — I’ll text you tomorrow — — If that’s what you want — I love you

　　　　　　　　　　　Friday 　　　　　　　　　　　03:47PM

— I don’t want to bother you, I’m trying to give you space if that’s what you need — But I’m worried about you — You haven’t messaged me all day — Did I do something wrong?

　　　　　　　　　　　04:10PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:12PM]

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:15PM]

　　　　　　　　　　　04:18PM

— Your friends said they haven’t heard from you in days — What’s going on? You can talk to me. — You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to but text someone back, please — I just wanna know that you’re okay

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:23PM]

And that’s how Noah ended up outside your door. Banging incessantly and shouting your name through the wood. You could hear him from where you were wrapped up in bed, but you were half hoping he would just drop it and go away. Realising quickly, however, the futility of that hope when you heard another voice join the sound of his. That of your neighbour, the nosy one from the house on the right.

You groan and throw the blanket off yourself, flinching a little when your feet touch the cold floor. You have no choice but to go downstairs, and no time to change your appearance. Hoping to whatever God will listen that Noah doesn’t make a comment on the clothes you’d been wearing for the past week before you can get in the shower and change.

“I’m just really worried about her,” you can hear the unmistakable tone of Noah’s voice through the door before you even open it.

Hesitating for a moment with your hand on the door handle, you decide to eavesdrop on the conversation. “I haven’t seen her for, ohhh let me think... has to be about a week now,” despite the man’s voice wavering with age, it came loud and clear through the door. An unfortunate side effect of his hearing loss.

“A week?!” Noah exclaimed. Having enough of the old man sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, you unlock the door quickly, wrenching it open and taking a surprised Noah by the arm.

“Oh! Nice to see you, dear. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The old man sneers.

“Yeah, nice seeing you, Trevor,” you barely extend him a glance as you drag Noah in through your doorway, slamming the door closed and turning the key. You let out a deep sigh, your palms and forehead resting against the cool wood.

Noah calls your name softly. You squeeze your eyes tight and take in a breath before you turn to face him. Putting on the best phoney smile you can muster.

“Sorry about him, he’s always in everyone’s business. What are you-”

“He said he hasn’t seen you in a week,” he says matter-of-factly. There’s no hint of a smile on his face. “Your friends said they haven’t heard from you in days either, and you’ve been ignoring my texts. And calls.”

Your heart seizes at the sadness in his eyes. He stands there in your front room, his usual sweatpants and hoodie, but he just looks so defeated. You always tell him he looks like an upset puppy when he’s sad, and the puppy-dog eyes are working overtime on you right now. “I told you, I’ve just been busy, and I-”

“And you had a headache, and you missed my texts, and you didn’t want to talk,” his voice was as stern as his expression. You knew he wasn’t an idiot. That there’s no way he’d believe your—at best—flimsy excuses. You stand frozen to the spot, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. Picking at the stitches, trying to distract yourself from the lump forming in your throat. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Noah questions.

You swallow roughly, “I don’t know what you... I don’t-”

He says your name firmly and takes a step towards you, “I’m going to ask you how you are, and I would like you to answer me honestly.”

Feeling your heart begin to race in your chest, you swallow again, but it does nothing to get rid of the tightness in your throat. Or the dizziness creeping up on you.

“Are you doing bad again?” He sounds softer this time, and you almost wish he would just scream at you because when he’s kind and attentive like this, you can’t help but crumble and shut down.

You clench your jaw as your breathing gets quicker, shallower, and you feel the unmistakable burn of tears in your eyes. “I’m fine,” your voice comes out cracked and weak, not at all the sound of someone who's fine.

“Don’t pretend you’re okay. Please don’t lie to me, because I know you’re not okay!” Noah crosses the room to meet you, holding his hands outstretched towards you, “what can I do for you? Please, I want to help.”

You cover your mouth as you choke back a sob, wrapping your other arm around your middle; you can’t hold it in anymore, and the floodgates open. Gasping for breath that seems to never come, you grip the front of your shirt tight in your fist, the clothing suddenly feeling suffocating and stiflingly hot.

“Oh, baby. Come here,” Noah takes you by the shoulders and pulls you into his chest, where you fall into him and cling onto him like he’s your only lifeline. “I need you to breathe for me, okay? Slowly, in and out,” he strokes soothing circles against your back as he demonstrates to you how to breathe. “Come and sit down here, yeah? The couch is right here.”

You barely register your legs moving for the numbness extending across your entire body, from your fingertips all the way down to your toes. Your tears are hot on your face, and every time you try to wipe them away, they’re just replaced by more in a never-ending stream. The room feels like it’s spinning around you as you move, only worsening the feeling of nausea rising in your throat. The plush cushions of the couch are a welcome relief.

“You’re holding your breath, I need you to breathe. Just how I am, that’s it,” he cradles your head to his chest through your shaky attempts to take in a breath through your nose and let it out slowly through your mouth. Your breath hitches uncontrollably with every inhale, taking in tiny bursts of air at a time. Noah, though, has nothing but praise on his lips: “That’s it. You’re doing so well, just listen to my voice.”

You missed his voice. As you worsened and withdrew, you found any excuse to avoid going out to see him, and you had been ignoring his calls for days. You knew you were doing it, and you missed him desperately, but with every day that passed, you found it harder and harder to reach out. It was hard for you to reach out for help in the first place, hard for you to admit to anyone that you needed help. Hard to admit it to yourself. Opting instead to suffer in silence and just push through it until you finally broke. You didn’t know any other way.

The familiar presence of him by your side eases the pace of your racing heart, allowing each breath to come a little easier. A little calmer. “I hate to see you hurting like this,” he whispers into your hair, his hand stroking through it gently, working to soothe the seemingly unquenchable anxiety. “I want to help you, please let me help you.”

It broke your heart to hear the pain in his voice. You never wanted to hurt him, but that’s all you seem to do. That cold hand of dread tightens its grip on your chest again, panic filling your lungs and replacing all the air. “I’m sorry,” you barely choke out, gripping onto Noah tighter. Warring with yourself, wanting to hold him close, but feeling like you need to push him away.

“You don’t need to apologise, ever. I’m here, I’m right here,” he runs his hand up and down your back, cradling you close. He can’t help but notice that through the fabric of your shirt, the bones of your spine are ever so slightly more prominent than before. He keeps his mouth shut. Focussing instead on quelling your distress and holding you tight in his arms.

“I just- I fuck everything up. I can’t do anything right, I don’t deserve your love, I don’t deserve you-” Once you start talking, you can’t stop, finally letting it all out until Noah cuts you off, incapable of hearing you degrade yourself anymore.

“No. No, that’s not even remotely true. Don’t say that about yourself,” he says firmly, holding you just a little tighter.

You shake your head against him, “all I do is hurt people and push you away, and I don’t know how to stop. You don’t deserve that, you shouldn’t have to put up with me.”

“I don’t ‘put up with you’. I love you, and I want to be here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

“You shouldn’t have to drop everything to come deal with me when you’re so busy. You deserve someone that isn’t so fucking hard to love.”

With that, Noah pushes you backwards by the shoulders, holding you there so he can look into your eyes when he speaks. “You are not hard to love. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had the privilege of doing. You just…” He takes a deep breath, cupping your cheek and brushing away the tears from under your eyes. “You just need to let me in, and let me show you you’re just as worthy of love as anyone else is.”

The image of him blurs when the tears overflow from your eyes again, your face crumpling as you bow your head. “You’ll leave me," your voice shaking with the force of your sobs.

"Why would you ever think I'd leave you?" he asks, dismayed by your fear.

"Everyone always leaves," you tell him, voice brittle and quiet, shaking your head. "It's only a matter of time before you leave too."

"I love you," Noah feels tears prick at his own eyes. "I love you so, so much. And I'm not going anywhere." He lifts your head, once again brushing away your tears so he can look into your eyes, "please trust me to help you."

"I'm just so tired," you confess, and he pulls you into his arms again.

“I can't promise to fix all your problems, but I can promise you won't have to face them alone. There’s nothing you could do that would drive me away. And the things that would, I know you’d never do,” he runs a comforting hand through your hair as you cry, his other arm secure around your waist. Your tears soak into his shirt, but he doesn’t mind. He wants you to give it all to him—all your sorrows, all your grief—so that he can bear it with you.

You desperately want to believe his words. To lean on him when you need him the most, but that insecure piece inside of you won’t let you yield. You don’t know how to open up to anyone without feeling like a burden.

Noah stays right there with you until the tears subside and your breathing evens out. Your head resting in his lap as he reassuringly strokes your hair, you feel the beginnings of a dull ache in your head that makes you drowsy. He rubs soothing circles into your back with his other hand, shifting slightly to get a better look at your face. “Have you eaten yet today?” He asks tentatively. Feeling your throat constrict under the pressure of guilt, you know you can’t lie to him. You know he sees right through you, so you decide to try being honest by shaking your head. “Want me to cook something for you? Or we can order something? My treat.”

You know he means well, but you don’t know how to say you don’t have an appetite without worrying him. He won’t let you go the entire day without eating, but all you want to do is sleep.

“Please talk to me,” he pleads, “I need to hear you.”

On a shaky breath, you settle for a half truth. “I don’t think there’s anything to cook.”

“That’s fine, we can order food then. What do you want?”

Chewing on your lip, you freeze. The silence stretches on far too long for you to be deciding what restaurant to order from, it’s clear you’re unable to answer.

Noah sighs your name, “you have to eat something.”

“I know. I just… I just don’t want to,” he remains quiet, waiting for you to continue. “I don’t feel hungry. Thinking about it is overwhelming. I just want to sleep so I don’t have to think about it.”

“What have you been eating these past few days?” He asks cautiously, his tone light. Conscious to not sound accusatory.

You sigh, knowing there’s no way of escaping this. “Microwave stuff, mostly,” you play with the fabric of his sweatpants, feeling his leg underneath, fidgeting your anxiety away. “Rice, oats, ramen. Stuff I don’t have to wash up after.”

“Have you been eating every day?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, the tension only thickening when you answer "no,” barely above a whisper.

You feel him nod. Quiet for a moment until he too speaks so quietly, you almost didn’t hear it. “You can’t go on like this.”

“I know,” you confess.

“Please let me help you.”

The desperation in his voice is what does it—the final straw. You sit up straight, turning to face him. Wiping the residual tears from your cheeks and looking him in the eye. You know it’s time to really be honest.

“It’s hard for me-” Your voice catches in your throat as the threat of crying again creeps up on you, not quite realising how much your body would resist. Taking a second to compose yourself—a deep breath in, eyes closed, releasing it slowly—your resolve strengthens and you continue. “It’s hard for me to open up to people. To admit when I’m struggling. I’m so used to feeling like I’m burdening everyone with my problems, so I just keep it all to myself. And by the time I realise I’m going down that road again, it’s too late to stop it.”

“It’s never too late,” Noah says reassuringly, tucking both sides of your hair behind your ears—the left first, then the right. “I mean this in the most loving way possible, but you don’t get to decide whether you’re a burden. You don’t get to take that choice away from me. The choice to help you. Your problems will never be a burden to me, no matter how big or small. You will never be a burden to me. I love you. I choose you. And I’ll never think poorly of you for needing help, ever.”

You don’t know what to say. Your eyes fixed on his. One of your favourite things about him is his big brown eyes. Always so full of comfort. So full of love that even you, with all of your self-doubt, can’t deny it. “I’m sorry. I know you said not to apologise, but I think I need to. I’m sorry for making you worry and for pushing you away. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Noah takes your hands in his. Large palms enveloping your own entirely. “Seeing you hurting is what hurts me the most. I love you so much, all I want is for you to be happy and healthy.”

You squeeze his hands in yours, “I love you, Noah. I’ll try harder, I promise. Feeling so unwanted for so long before I met you, I think I didn’t realise just how lucky I am to have you until now.” Noah raises one of your hands, kissing the back firmly and holding it there, savouring the feel of your skin against his lips. Timidly, you ask, “can we get pizza?”

He breaks out into a smile, “of course we can! But you have to text your friends back first," he bargains, "even if it’s just something short.”

“Deal,” you can’t help but return his smile. “My phone is upstairs, I’m just gonna go get it.”

“Wait!” he calls as you stand, pulling you back to the sofa and into him with a hand on the back of your head, “can I kiss you first?”

Without a word, you lean into him, closing the gap between you and feeling his lips on yours for the first time in weeks. That familiar burn of tears threatening to escape your eyes returns, and when you pull away, those beautiful brown eyes are full of concern.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, laughing awkwardly, “happy tears. I just missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” his smile taking on a more solemn appearance this time. “But I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, please don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t forget that I love you too. No matter what happens. No matter how stupidly self-destructive I act.”

Noah pulls you in for one final embrace before letting you retrieve your phone. You spend time texting back each of your friends, apologising for your absence and telling them you were okay, that Noah is here, and you’d explain more later. Noah, sitting at your right, creates your pizza order, periodically asking what else you’d like adding.

The two of you spend the night watching trash TV, settling into your usual comfort and hurling insults at the characters for making stupid decisions while you eat your food. Only realising after it arrived just how hungry you really were. And when you’re finished eating, Noah and you head upstairs.

You feel like a new person after you shower, coming out of the bathroom to find Noah relaxed against your headboard. The sheets on your bed changed, and a fresh set of clothes lay waiting for you to change into for bed.

Accepting finally how much lighter everything feels when someone is around to help you. You slide under the clean sheets, comforted by the warmth of Noah’s body beside you for the first time in too long. And just as you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his hand stroking your back, you’re determined to never let things get this bad again. Knowing you need to trust him, because trust is the foundation of love, and you love Noah with every fibre of your being. And despite how hard it is sometimes, you need to let him love you back.

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✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

ᯤ 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗦 (21) :　 ⌞⬤ 7 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @english-fucker @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | @seven-glass-kids @runadaggerthroughmychest

@lma1986 | @shayzillaaaa

⌞⬤ 5 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒⌝ @madamaaubergine | @thewrstinme | @amourtoken @livingdeceasedgirl | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

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⌞◯ 4 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @bluestdai | @fadingangelwisp | @broken0mens @ferduttini

　+[MSG : join the taglist!]

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#so if noah could come over and drag me out of this pit i'm in that would be great!#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens #bad omens cult #fluff #angst #C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT #C:/PROJECTS/SEARCH/TAG/ANGST #C:/PROJECTS/SEARCH/TAG/FLUFF #C:/PROJECTS/SEARCH/TAG/EMOTIONALHURTCOMFORT

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

Note

hey mei, if you feel like doing it i'd love to see poly!marauders fighting over who gets a turn in bed with reader next, if not no worries! love u!

love you too!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

"No, Prongs, you got last Thursday after practice. I specifically remember because I tried telling you to shower first, so that she wasn't getting a face full of your sweat." Remus narrows his eyes at James, who scoffs indignantly.

"Yeah, you told me to shower so I didn't stink, and I did! And while I was in the bathroom, you swooped in a tired her out!"

"That is not true," Remus snaps, "I went to the library! You're thinking of Tuesday, which was before Thursday, when your turn was, which means that I get the next turn."

"Mate, I'm telling you," James huffs, and Sirius plants his face into your shoulder with an overexaggerated snore, "I didn't get a go last week at all!"

"Well now you're being ridiculous," Remus gripes, "You have your face stuffed between her thighs practically every night, Potter. If you're gonna lie do it more convincingly."

"But this week's been busy and I haven't got the chance!" James insists, "Moony, Sirius might give into everything you want, but I'm not budging. It's my turn."

"Pair of charmers, aren't they?" Sirius drawls, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he murmurs by your ear.

"Mhm," You hum, and tense as his hand creeps up your thigh beneath your comforter, "Siri-"

"Shh," He quiets you, "They're gonna be bickering for a while. Why not enjoy ourselves?"

"They'll be jealous," You lament, but you don't push his hand away when it dips below the waistband of your pajama shorts, "Sirius, if we get caught-"

"Don't get us caught then, darling." He purrs, mouthing at the sensitive skin on your neck just below your ear. He leaves a sticky kiss there, trailing them down towards your collarbones as the first of his fingers ghosts down your slit, sending shivers up your spine, "If you're nice and quiet, they'll never know."

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minorlyatfault · 4 days ago

Text

vi / cherry girl sent a message : i don't know why, but with you, i'd dance in a storm in my best dress, fearless.

ᰔ pairing . . . p. jackson

ᰔ category . . . blurb , fluff , requested

ᰔ requested by . . . @simpingmyassoff

ᰔ with . . . a gn!reader ( cabin not specified )

ᰔ in which . . . you tried lifting up your boyfriend.

ᰔ tags . . . grammatical errors. ooc.

ᰔ look around . . . m.list. p.jackson , riordanverse m.list

────── vi whispers . . . ᰔ

001. i was so so so sleepy whileimadethis

you didn't intend to make it a thing.

okay, maybe you kinda did.

but in your defense, he started it▰the stupid way he always just casually flexed his powers & played with his sword like it was light as a feather, like he wasn't almost jacked from all those years of training at camp, & like he didn't know you were watching.

so yeah. maybe you did mean it.

it was a tuesday. after supper, when the sky was a pale watercolor mess & people were dispersed off doing whatever▰some folks around the campfire, others by the lake. you & percy were strolling back to the cabins, & he was going on & on about some drachma he lost in the strawberry fields ("it was shiny! i lost my train of thought!"), & you were trying to hear him out but also. scheming.

because he'd walked in front of you just a little bit, hoodie up & hands thrust into his pockets, all lanky & tall & boyish & unfairly adorable. & something in your head just short-circuited.

i could totally pick him up, you thought.

& the moment that thought took root in your head, there was no shaking it.

you quickened your step. just a bit. just enough so that you could creep up behind him as he continued to vent about having been cheated by a magpie or some such nonsense. you drew close enough so that you could hear the huff of his breath & smell the salt of the sea that inexplicably seemed to stick to him.

then you made your move.

"what the▰!" percy yelped when your arms curled around his waist. he stiffened, caught halfway through a step, wriggling a little in your hold. "are you hugging me or▰wait▰wait, are you actually trying to pick me up at this moment?!"

you were.

& holy crap.

you were actually doing it.

his feet never touched the ground again.

you smiled, eyes wide with sheer feral excitement. "i told you i'm strong!"

"you never told me you were insane!"

you stumbled a bit but shifted your stance. okay. yeah. he was heavier than you'd anticipated. muscle-y. water boy had some weight. but he was also sort of yelling, which didn't help.

"stop squirming!" you huffed, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso as you took another tiny step forward, just to prove that you could.

"i'm not squirming! i'm fighting for my life!" percy's arms waved a bit in front of him, as if he didn't know what to do with them. "why are you picking me up? is this revenge? is this because of that time i told leo you cried at ratatouille?"

"i didn't cry!" you panted, already sweating. "i got misty!"

"oh, you cried. full-on ugly cry▰ whoa, okay▰" he stiffened when you tightened your grip. "don't drop me. don't drop me."

you chuckled, which had nearly put you off balance. "you think i can't carry you?"

"i think you're making really bold decisions for someone who nearly tripped on a rock last week."

"i have core strength, jackson."

"you have delusions."

& that's when it did. the killing wobble. you moved your foot, your knee gave, & gravity suddenly recalled it was there to work. oh, he is not staying up there. not for long.

"oh no▰" you panicked.

"oh no▰" he echoed, voice rising.

you didn't so much drop him. it was sort of. a controlled descent. really… sort of… both of you fell in a heap on the grass, your body contorted underneath his as you thudded & let out an extremely ungraceful, "oof."

silence.

then percy groaned. "i think my soul exited my body."

you wheezed, giggling. "i think my spine did."

he rolled half off of you, thudding onto the grass with a theatrical sigh. "well. that was fun."

you rolled your head to look at him, hair sticking out in every direction. "i did carry you, though. even if it was just for, like, five seconds."

he regarded you. blinked. then grinned, all teeth & mischief. "you did. honestly? kinda hot."

"shut up."

"no, really. i've never been picked up before. it was… strangely romantic. dangerous. like you could toss me off a cliff & i'd thank you."

you pushed his shoulder. "i might."

he pushed you back, softer. "you totally won't. you love me too much."

you wrinkled your nose but didn't protest. instead, you looked up at the sky, both of you lying out in the grass, your bodies still entwined from the fall.

then percy moved closer, voice lower. "but next time?"

"yeah?"

"tell me before you go hulk."

you snorted. "where's the fun in that?"

#୨ৎ. kayvi's works !#ᰔ . . . riordianverse !#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus x y/n #pjo x reader #pjo x y/n #pjo x you #hoo x reader #hoo x you #riordanverse #rick riordan

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st3f13ily · 8 days ago

Text

Dating The Impossible

• Reverse Romance Trope

• Instead of Fake dating, everyone is convinced you aren't dating.

• Itoshi Sae x Influencer Chaotic Reader

• Sorry, I don't really know how this will goes, probably gonna be confusing and all, I just put whatever is on my mind.

"You know how some people say their life is a rom-com? Yeah, no. Mine is more like a chaos-com. I wake up tangled in bedsheets like a burrito, burn half my breakfasts, and trip over absolutely nothing at least once a day. But hey, at least I make it look cute. Or so my fans say."

"You've probably seen me online."

"The loud, over-the-top influencer with an obsession for bubble tea, oversized hoodies, and singing off-key on live streams. Yeah, that's me. Sunshine's personality is a human disaster, and I'm proud of it. My life is like an endless string of events, collaborations, photoshoots, and the occasional scandal where people assume I'm dating half the industry just because I smiled too wide in a selfie."

"But... plot twist. The rumors were all wrong. The truth? I've been dating Sae Itoshi."

"Yes. That Sae Itoshi."

"The national heartthrob, soccer prodigy, king of the resting deadpan face. The man who kicks balls for a living and somehow looks like he invented the concept of "too cool to care." That's my boyfriend."

"Shocking, right? I know, I know. You're probably making the same face my best friend did when I told her."

"Mouth open, brain error, blue screen."

"But!—ah, ah, ah—before I spill the tea on how that happened... let's rewind."

"It wasn't on a fancy red carpet or an exclusive afterparty."

"Nope. The universe had something more... clumsy planned."

"It was just another Tuesday. I was running late, of course, because of punctuality and I have never been on speaking terms. Sunglasses perched on my head, iced coffee in one hand, and phone in the other, trying to post a "good morning" selfie to my feed without walking into traffic. Multitasking: my toxic trait."

"And then, boom."

"Literally. I slammed right into someone."

"My coffee went flying, my phone almost joined it, and I stumbled back like a cartoon character. I looked up, ready to apologize to whoever the poor soul was and there he stood."

"Tall. Cool. Expression flat enough to rival the moon’s surface."

"A guy in casual clothes, baseball cap pulled low, hands stuffed in his pockets like he’d rather be anywhere else."

"And me? The clueless fool who thought. Huh. Cute stranger."

"I had no idea I'd just bumped into Itoshi Sae himself. And him? Oh, he definitely thought I was just another random, overly smiley girl with zero spatial awareness."

"Funny, right?"

"But, I'm getting ahead of myself again. You want the real story, don't you? The how, the why, the wait, really? moments."

"Well... hold tight. Because that, my lovely little chaos crew, is a story for another day."

"And speaking of stories, my livestream timer's blinking at me. Time to hit the "Go Live" button and let the circus begin."

"Story starts now: me, my camera, my fans, and one accidental love story I never saw coming."

.....

Beep.

BEEEEEP.

You swatted your alarm clock like it had personally insulted your family name, groaning into your pillow. Five more minutes. Just five more, universe, please. But the sun was already slapping you across the face through your curtains like it had a personal vendetta.

Reluctantly, you peeled yourself from your cozy blanket cocoon and rolled out of bed emphasis on rolled because grace was never part of your brand. You did a little zombie shuffle toward the bathroom, catching sight of your bedhead in the mirror.

"Wow. A masterpiece." you mumbled to yourself, finger-combing your tangled mess like it would magically fix anything. Spoiler: it didn't.

Your morning routine was a wild mix of chaos and caffeine. Face wash? Check. Skincare? Check—uhhhhhh—mostly. Coffee? Priority number one. You fired up your machine and did a little dance while waiting, humming off-key to whatever pop song was stuck in your head. You were halfway through pouring your coffee when your phone buzzed.

[Your BFF]: 𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲??

You grinned, sending back: 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗹𝘆. 𝗖𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁, 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱.

You flopped onto the couch with your mug and pulled out your phone, opening your livestream app. Your followers were already leaving comments on your last post:

"You're late today, queen!"

"She lives!! What's the chaos plan for today?"

You snorted into your coffee, holding up your phone for a quick selfie.

"Good morning, chaos crew!" you chirped to your camera. "Guess who overslept again? Spoiler: it's me. But plot twist, today I have a story. And it's about a certain someone."

You paused, flashing your most dramatic grin.

"But before that, let's talk about the day I met him. Because wow. Absolute definition of 'meet-cute,' minus the cute, mostly just me being a hazard to society."

You leaned back, letting the memory replay in your head.

It was an ordinary day. Well, as ordinary as your life ever got. You had a brand meeting to rush to, and as usual, you were running late because you couldn't pick an outfit. One minute you were posing for mirror selfies in your oversized hoodie, the next you were panicking because your Uber was two streets away and you couldn't find your left shoe. Classic you.

With only two brain cells firing on pure iced coffee and hope, you dashed out of your apartment, phone in one hand, drink in the other, and zero focus on the sidewalk ahead. You were too busy typing a caption for your next post, something about the universe always testing your time management skills, when the world decided to humble you.

Crash.

You slammed chest-first into someone.

Your iced coffee did an Olympic-level flip, your phone wobbled dangerously in your hand, and you stumbled back two steps, blinking like a deer in ring light.

"Whoa—sorry, I wasn't looking!" you blurted out, brushing imaginary dust off your clothes and finally daring to look up.

And there he was.

The stranger.

Tall, and lean, hoodie, cap pulled low, and hands in his pockets like life was just a long waiting room. His expression? A mix of boredom and 'Why is this human in my personal space?'

At the time, you didn't recognize him. To you, he was just another person having the misfortune of existing on the same chaotic sidewalk as you.

But him? Oh, he definitely looked at you like you were just another hyper, overcaffeinated civilian with no spatial awareness. Probably filed you away as background noise and kept walking.

You, being the ray of unbothered sunshine you were, had just smiled wide and waved, as if you hadn't nearly caused a traffic accident with your face.

"Have a good day, mystery man!" you chirped before bouncing off, completely unaware that you'd just met Sae Itoshi.

The Sae Itoshi.

The soccer prodigy. The media darling. The human iceberg.

And soon-to-be... your boyfriend.

You grinned at the memory, shaking your head as your chat flooded with emojis and question marks

"But—ah, ah, ah—that's just the beginning," you teased, sipping your coffee dramatically. "You thought I’d spill all the tea in one sitting? Pfft. Stay tuned, chaos crew. You know I live for the plot twists."

You winked at your camera, stretching your arms with a happy little hum.

"So, where were we? Right—me, being a disaster, and the world's most unexpected love story. But that's for the next stream."

And with that, you ended the live, leaving your fans screaming in the chat for more.

You sort of love it when your fans suffer.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

You were lounging on your bed, blanket wrapped around your legs like a burrito, phone propped up against a water bottle, livestream running full blast. The chat was already exploding with:

"You left us hanging last time!!"

"Tell us about the first REAL conversation!!"

"DID YOU FALL OR DID YOU FLY?? Spill!!"

You laughed, cheeks hurting from smiling.

"Okay, okay, okay, calm down, gremlins." You raised your hands like you were surrendering to the internet police. "So last time, I told you about the day I bumped into him. Literally. But you thought the universe would let me off with one accidental meeting? Oh, honey. No, no."

You shifted to lie on your stomach, kicking your feet behind you.

"It kept happening. Like, a lot. I thought I was the main character in a bad rom-com."

You tilted your head back, replaying the memories like your own private highlight reel.

The second time was the most random. You'd been at that cute little coffee shop you loved, the one that did those overly fancy heart-shaped lattes you always pretended to hate but secretly adored. You were waiting for your order, nose buried in your phone, when someone brushed past you.

You looked up, and there he was again. Mystery Man. Hoodie, cap, same blank expression. For a second, you thought your brain had glitched. Wasn't this the guy you’d run into like, a week ago?

He didn't recognize you, or at least, if he did, he was very committed to pretending he didn't. You'd watched him leave with his black coffee like some kind of aesthetic Pinterest post, and you'd stood there clutching your caramel frappé like, Huh. Weird.

But it didn't stop there.

A few days later, different place, the same weird coincidence. You'd been out at the park, earbuds in, walking your snack-fueled guilt off when you spotted him again, sitting on a bench, casually scrolling his phone as if he belonged in the background.

At first, you thought, Okay, world, nice try. People exist. Whatever. But by the fourth time, when you ran into him at that tiny sushi place you swore no one else but you and your bestie knew about. You couldn't take it anymore.

You'd straight-up stared at him across the room, your mouth half full of rice, eyebrows raised so high they nearly left your forehead.

And the moment your eyes met? He raised his brow right back.

So you did what any reasonable, mature adult would do.

You marched right up to his table, planted your hands on your hips, tilted your head, and blurted out:

"Are you stalking me or do I just have main character syndrome?"

Silence. Dead silence. The poor waiter passing by almost choked on air.

And for the first time, the guy cracked the tiniest, barely-there smile like you'd just told a joke only he got. He tilted his head, lazily resting his chin on his hand and replied, "Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing."

You had stared at him, blinked, and then dramatically pointed a finger at him like some bootleg detective.

"Hah! Suspicious!"

Your chat was going insane by now, spamming.

"SHE LITERALLY SAID ‘STALKER’ LMAO"

"HE SMILED?!? That's a world record!"

"He was so calm too, I'm wheezing."

You grinned at your phone.

"Yeah, I know right? The man was so calm like his entire personality was set to 'unbothered.' Meanwhile, I'm the one flailing through life like a caffeinated pigeon."

You sipped your drink, shaking your head at the memory.

"At that point, I didn't even know who he was, not really. Just thought he was some suspiciously attractive stranger who clearly had a talent for showing up wherever I existed. Turns out... well, you guys know the plot twist already."

You let out a dreamy little sigh, flopping onto your back.

"But that was just the start. You think that's the cute part? Oh, no, no, no, chaos crew. The universe was just warming up."

You flashed a wink at the camera.

"Next stream, I'll tell you the part where I found out the truth. About who he really was."

You raised your glass like a toast.

"And spoiler alert: my jaw hit the floor. See you next time!"

You ended the live, still smiling like an idiot, heart full of those silly, sweet memories.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

You tug your hoodie over your head, slumping deeper into the cold, unforgiving airport chair while the distant hum of suitcase wheels and boarding calls blend into background noise. One earbud dangles loose, the other blasting your "waiting-around" playlist at a volume slightly unhealthy for your eardrums.

Your phone rests against your knee, the livestream chat already buzzing like a hive of nosy bees.

"WHERE are you going?? Stop gatekeeping."

"Tell us, tell us! Your airport fit is 10/10 tho."

"Are you going somewhere or is this Kidnapping??!! Blink twice if you need help!!"

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING??"

"Airport fit check pls??"

You chuckle under your breath, stretching your legs out until your sneakers nudge your suitcase.

"Yeah, yeah. I know you're all dying to know, but I'm not telling you yet. Let's just say... it's gonna be a long few hours, and the flight's not boarding anytime soon."

You leaned back, stretching your legs out, sneakers tapping against the floor.

"So I figured, since we're all here, stuck together in digital purgatory, why not tell you the rest of the story? The full, uncut, slightly embarrassing tale of how I ended up with Sae Itoshi."

The chat exploded again, and you snorted, holding up a hand.

"Calm down, calm down! You already know about the 'Are you stalking me?' moment." You grinned at the memory. "But that wasn't the last time we crossed paths. Oh no, the universe was playing the long game."

You licked your lips, settling in like you were about to spill ancient gossip.

"Turns out, I was working on this brand deal, you know, usual influencer stuff, smile, wave, pretend I don’t trip over my own feet in front of professional cameras. My manager told me there was this promotional event, super casual, nothing fancy. Show up, look cute, shake hands, snap photos. Easy."

"What she forgot to mention was that it wasn't just some small event. No, no, it was one of those 'shared space' promo collabs. You know, influencers meet athletes, actors, streamers, the whole 'everyone's famous except you' type vibe. I was barely surviving the social anxiety."

You gestured at your own face, chuckling.

"And then, guess who walks in. The same guy I called a stalker—Sae. Freaking. Itoshi."

You paused for dramatic silence, watching the chat spam screaming emojis and caps-lock confessions of second-hand embarrassment.

"And the worst part? I still didn't know his full name. Not until the event started, and the host announced it like it was some royal entrance. 'Football star Itoshi Sae, everyone!' And I just—I swear my soul left my body."

You covered your face, laughing into your hands.

"I was standing there holding a plate of free desserts and staring at him like I'd seen a ghost. He? Oh, he was perfectly fine. Cool, calm, like this was just Tuesday for him."

You shift in your seat, tugging your hood lower, and let the memory pull you under.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

The sky had been that weird, in-between colour, not quite sunny, not quite cloudy, just hanging there like it couldn’t commit to a mood. You were half-jogging, half-power-walking toward your favourite café, craving something sugary and caffeinated to survive your schedule.

Just five minutes of peace, you'd thought, before the next shoot, the next meeting, the next 'smile for the camera.'

The second you pushed the café door open, the little bell above the frame jingled and there he was. The same guy. Cool expression, soccer-star hair, the casual posture of someone who was definitely not expecting you either.

You froze mid-step, recognizing that sharp jawline and those ocean-glass eyes.

No way. No freaking way.

And he glanced up from his drink, raising one eyebrow like he'd just spotted a UFO. No fanboy moment, no awkwardness, just that signature, unimpressed Sae Itoshi stare.

You blinked, too stunned to even remember your coffee craving. "You again?" you blurted, before your brain could filter the words.

He sipped his drink like you weren't real. "Should I be asking you that?"

The universe clearly had jokes, because this wasn't the last time either. After that café, you saw him at a restaurant, same casual lean against the counter, the same unreadable face. Then at the park. Then at a bookstore. Every time you locked eyes, it was the same little pause, like both of you were waiting for the punchline.

The fourth or fifth accidental meetup, you'd finally folded your arms, tilting your head at him, amusement bubbling out before you could stop yourself.

"Alright, are YOU stalking me?" you'd asked, deadpan but half-laughing.

For the first time, his lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smirk.

"No." he'd replied, gaze flicking to you and back. "If I were, you'd never catch me."

And you had stood there, flustered, annoyingly charmed, and wondering if he'd always been this infuriatingly smooth.

But the real twist came later, your manager dropped the bomb about the upcoming event.

"A crossover gig." she'd said, breezy like it wasn't life-ruining. "You're going to meet some athletes and shoot some promo stuff. Super chill."

You'd thought nothing of it, until you showed up at the venue, makeup barely set, nerves barely managed, and there he was. Again.

This time, his name wasn't a mystery. The host's voice boomed through the speakers like an announcement in some royal court.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome Itoshi Sae!"

And you? Standing there like an absolute clown, holding some candies you snuck into your bag without your manager looking. Staring at the man you'd mistaken for a random guy for weeks.

I am going to dig a hole right here and move in.

The worst part wasn't even the reveal, it was how unbothered he looked. Smooth, sharp, camera-ready. Until the event wrapped, the photos were done, and he passed you in the hallway, hands in his pockets.

"Still think I’m stalking you?" he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear.

Your heart had done a perfect backflip right into your stomach.

I'm doomed, you'd thought, completely doomed.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

The airport speakers crackle, calling out some other flight and the chat floods your screen like you'd just dropped the juiciest scandal.

"OMG stop, the candy part got me dead."

"YOU MET HIM SO MANY TIMES AND DIDN'T KNOW??? Girl."

"How are you not married to him already, I'm crying."

You snort, flipping your phone so the camera only catches your eyes, full of fake dramatic regret.

"Yup, that's the story. The universe was practically waving a red flag in my face, and I still didn't get it. But hey, I never said I was smart."

You grin, voice going soft.

"That was the beginning of the mess, though. Things only got weirder, funnier, and... well, better from there."

You glance at the flight board, the 'Delayed' sign still glowing. Plenty of time to keep the story going.

"Should I tell you what happened after that event?" You tilt your head, teasing. "You might wanna grab snacks for this one."

You rested your chin on your palm, the corners of your lips twitching upward at the memory.

"But noooope. Plot twist, we kept running into each other even after that. Like, the universe wasn't done embarrassing me."

༺♡༻༺��༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

It started with the afterparty.

You weren't even supposed to stay long. Your manager had warned you: "Just smile, mingle, and leave before anyone asks awkward questions." But you'd stayed for the free food. Because of priorities.

You were swiping the last mini cupcake from a passing tray when you noticed him, standing alone by the balcony doors, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Same suit, same cool stare, but there was something... so normal about him when he wasn't surrounded by flashing cameras and interviews.

You hadn't meant to walk over. Honestly. Your feet just moved.

"Hey, stalker." you'd greeted, cupcake half-raised to your mouth.

He glanced your way, eyebrows lifting slightly.

"You've got the roles reversed." he murmured, sipping his drink, "I was here first."

You'd grinned around the cupcake. "Pfft. Technicality."

It was small, that first conversation. You talked about nothing, the music, the cheap wine, how awkward those ‘stand here and smile’ photos were. And when you'd finally left the party, you were sure that was the last of it.

But then came the run-ins. Again.

At the bookstore. At the same street-side ramen place. At the stupid laundromat of all places.

Each time, the same exchange.

You: "Okay, this is getting suspicious."

Him: Deadpan. "I live here. You're the one following me."

The universe was clearly shipping you two harder than your entire fanbase ever could.

But the real kicker came a week later when your manager ambushed you mid-photoshoot with a new assignment.

"Big commercial gig. Big brands, crossover style, you'll be working with athletes again."

You didn't even flinch this time. Please let it be someone normal, you'd prayed silently, half-joking.

Spoiler alert: it wasn't.

The day of the shoot, you arrived early, coffee in hand, only to find him sitting on the armrest of the studio sofa, completely at ease, scrolling through his phone like he owned the place.

The second your eyes met, he locked his phone and gave you the faintest nod, almost amused.

"Guess you're stuck with me again." he muttered.

You'd raised your cup like it was a toast. "Could be worse."

And honestly? It could've. The more you worked together that day, the more the weirdness of ‘Itoshi Sae the world-class footballer’ faded away. He was sharp, calm, and maddeningly good at making your heart do cartwheels with a single glance. But also... surprisingly soft-spoken, and just the right amount of sarcastic to match your chaos.

When the cameras weren't rolling, the two of you sat on the studio floor, sharing a pack of sour candies you’d stashed in your bag, the conversation flipping between random nonsense and quiet silences.

At some point, you caught yourself thinking.

Huh. This isn't so bad. Actually... it’s kinda nice.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

You blinked, pulling yourself out of the memory, stretching your arms overhead like the story had physically weighed on you.

"Yeah." you muttered into the mic, "That's when things got... complicated. After that shoot, we started texting. Then hanging out. Not the usual ‘post it on Instagram and make it obvious’ kind of way. Just... quiet."

Your thumb swiped the chat, watching your fans lose their collective minds.

"I KNEW IT. Texting is the gateway to the heart."

"You two were so private, we thought you were single fr."

"So you're telling me this was a soft slow burn all along?!"

You smiled to yourself, your heart swelling just a little as you stared at the screen.

"Yup. No fancy announcements, no PDA, no hints on social media. Just... us. And honestly, I liked it that way."

You leaned back, glancing at the flight board again.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself." you teased. "If you want the full tea—the real ‘how we actually got together’ story—you're gonna need snacks, drinks, maybe a pillow, because that part?"

You tilted your head toward the camera, grinning wide.

"That's a whole saga on its own."

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

You leaned your head against the cold airport window, watching planes blink through the foggy glass while your phone rested comfortably against your knee, still live, your chat buzzing like a beehive.

You were mid-sentence, rambling about the "friendly" phase, when your brain hit that memory, the moment things stopped being just friendly.

Your lips twitched into a soft, secret smile.

"Alright, alright, so here's the part everyone wants." you chuckled, stretching your legs out in front of you. "You've all been dying to know how it went from texting, hanging out, to... official, right?"

The chat exploded with caps and emojis.

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

"Yeah, the thing is... he never actually asked. Like—no ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ no rom-com confession under the rain, no dramatic gestures. It was just... Sae being Sae."

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

It had been months.

Months of quiet coffee shop meetups, walking side by side with your hands brushing but never quite touching, late-night texts about the dumbest things, and his deadpan humor paired perfectly with your endless chaos.

And then one ordinary night, the two of you were sitting on his apartment balcony, the Tokyo skyline stretched out before you like an endless string of stars. You were bundled in his oversized hoodie—correction: permanently borrowed hoodie, sipping canned peach soda, while Sae scrolled through something on his phone, utterly relaxed.

The silence wasn't awkward. It never was with him.

Out of nowhere, without even looking up, he spoke:

"You know my schedule, right? Next season's gonna be worse."

You glanced over, raising a brow. "Yeah, your manager already sent me the doomsday calendar."

His lips curved into a faint smirk. "Then you'll have to deal with it."

You blinked. "Deal with what?"

"You. Being stuck with me." He finally tilted his head, looking at you sideways, eyes soft but so unreadable. "You're already here all the time, anyway."

The soda can slipped slightly in your hands.

Wait... is this... is he... asking?

You tilted your head, squinting suspiciously. "Are you... asking me to be your girlfriend without asking me to be your girlfriend?"

His expression didn't even flinch. "If you need me to spell it out, you're dumber than I thought."

You gasped, mock-offended, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Excuse me?!"

But before you could launch into a dramatic fake argument, he reached over, pulling you back gently by the sleeve of his hoodie. His hand stayed there, warm and steady against your arm, anchoring you in place.

"That wasn't a question," he added, voice low but steady.

And just like that, that was it. No grand announcement, no perfect moment. Just simple, real, and entirely him.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

Your fingers absentmindedly fidgeted with the zipper of your jacket, the memory lingering like warmth in your chest.

"Yeah... that’s how it happened," you told your audience, your grin softening. "No dramatic confessions, no fairytale scenes. Just him deciding we were already together without me even realizing it."

The chat blew up in every direction.

"HE JUST CLAIMED YOU LIKE THAT???"

"Sae Itoshi pulled the ‘you're mine, you just don’t know it’ move?? I'm screaming."

"Girl that wasn't even a question. That was a declaration!!"

You laughed, stretching out your legs again, letting the warmth of that night sink in all over again.

"Yeah," you whispered, half to yourself, half to the stream. "That's just... him."

The airport speakers crackled with another delay announcement, and you groaned, flopping back against the chair like your soul had just left your body.

"Guess I've got plenty of time to spill the rest now," you told your phone, your live stream still going strong, chat still wild, even though you were only halfway through your long-winded, slightly embarrassing love story.

You twisted your fingers into your hoodie strings, eyes flicking toward the camera, a little mischievous spark dancing behind your smile.

"So, here's the fun part. When we finally decided to tell people... no one believed us." You let the words hang for dramatic effect.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

You flopped face-first onto your bed, phone dangling from your hand, notifications still blowing up your screen like a mini firework show. Your social feed was chaos—memes, clips, conspiracy theories, fan edits— and all for the same ridiculous reason.

The public didn't believe you and Sae were actually dating.

You groaned into your pillow.

"Why. Why is the world like this?"

Just earlier that week, you finally decided to post that one photo, the soft, cozy one of you wearing his hoodie, feet propped up on his coffee table, his unmistakable blue-and-white game jersey draped on the back of the couch in the background.

The caption was simple:

"Soft launch? Nah. Full send."

And Sae, the man of zero social media energy, actually liked it.

But instead of hearts and celebration, the media? The fans? The blogs?

𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌?

𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚝?

𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚝?

They refused to believe it. Your chaotic, sunshine personality, the influencer who couldn't sit still for five seconds, with Japan's most stone-faced, deadpan soccer prince? They weren't buying it.

Truth was, you avoided his matches like the plague.

Sure, you loved seeing him play, but you didn't love the VIP section. You hated the constant camera pans, the forced smiles, and the announcers awkwardly mentioning you every five minutes like you were the main event instead of him.

And even if you could handle that, the crowd wasn’t much better.

"Why do you even go, if all you do is get stared at?" you remembered Sae asking, poking the straw in your drink lazily as the two of you hid in a quiet little ramen shop once.

"Exactly! I don't," you shot back. "You wanna know how awkward it is to sit there, every second feeling like I should wave or pose for the camera? I'm not tryna be the soccer wife template, okay?"

And as usual, Sae just nodded, no offense taken, no guilt tripped, just casually accepting your boundaries without blinking.

And the interviews? His manager probably sent him a dozen pre-approved questions about you every week, and he still answered the same way:

"Private life's got nothing to do with the field."

"Next question."

"No comment."

You loved him for that. But the world? They took it as proof you were all for show.

You rolled onto your back, clutching your phone to your chest dramatically.

"I want everyone to know you're mine, damn it!" you whined out loud, even though Sae wasn't even in the room.

Your phone buzzed, and speak of the devil, his name flashed across your screen.

A text, short as always.

Sae: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?

You typed back furiously, thumbs moving like you were fighting for your life.

You: 𝐘𝐄𝐒. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦! 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐈𝐦 𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐞-𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮! 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬? 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬!!

A few seconds passed.

Another buzz.

Sae: 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞.

You let out the most dramatic gasp, holding your chest like you’d been mortally wounded.

He doesn't care. He's so... him.

But even in the middle of your whiny pout, your phone vibrated once more, and his last message made your stomach flip

Sae: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬.

Your lips twitched into a defeated smile.

Yeah. That's true.

Bonus: Later that week, you caught him scrolling past some article about your "fake" relationship. His only reaction?

"Tch. They're dumb."

And then he slid his phone back into his pocket, grabbed your hand, and squeezed it liked the whole world could fall away and he'd still be fine, as long as you were beside him.

It wasn't just the fans.

It wasn't just the media.

It was everyone.

Even your own best friend.

You sat cross-legged on your couch, phone balanced on your knee, holding back a groan while your bestie's voice played through the speaker like the most supportive but suspicious customer service rep on Earth.

"So… Sae Itoshi, huh?" they hummed, voice full of that polite, careful tone people use when they think you’re about to tell them you joined a pyramid scheme. "You're really serious about this?"

You flopped onto your back dramatically, one arm tossed over your face.

"Yes, I'm serious! Why does nobody ever believe me?!"

Your best friend laughed, soft but teasing.

"It's just... you only post about him once or twice a week then it's just you with your routine. You're always hanging out with me or working. And he doesn't mention you in interviews either, so…"

You sat up and grabbed a throw pillow, clutching it like a lifeline.

"Because we like being private! You know how insane people are about celeb couples. We don't need the world crawling up our noses."

Your best friend didn't sound mean about it, or even doubtful in a harsh way, just unconvinced in that "I love you, but I’m side-eyeing this" way.

"Well, if it's real, I'm happy for you. But I'll believe it when I see him at a family dinner or something."

You froze.

Family dinner. Right. That wasn't helping your case either.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

Your family was no better.

Every group call, every visit, every holiday, someone always asked the same thing:

"Are you still seeing that soccer guy?"

"Yes, I am!"

And always, the same suspicious, supportive-but-totally-judging smile.

"Mhm. Must be hard, dating a busy man like that. You two probably don't see each other much, huh?"

You wanted to yeet your phone across the room every time.

It wasn't their fault.

They weren’t being cruel, or bitter, in fact, they were probably trying to avoid sounding jealous.

But they hadn't seen Sae show up at birthdays, or in your Insta stories, or on the group vacations.

And every time you'd try to explain the situation, the words sounded faker and faker even to your own ears.

"He's busy with training."

"He doesn't like social media."

"We like keeping things private."

"It's not that serious to everyone else, but it is to us."

You knew it was true. You knew Sae wasn't some trophy boyfriend for display. But you also knew how invisible your relationship looked to the outside world.

The meet-and-greet was in full swing. Flashing lights, smiles so wide your cheeks hurt, laughter so loud it made your ears ring — you were in your natural habitat, bouncing from fan to fan like a hyper, overcaffeinated puppy.

You signed merch, posed for selfies, gave out warm hugs, and listened to all the sweet things your fans had to say.

"You're literally the best person ever."

"You make my day so much brighter."

"You're my comfort streamer, always."

And then, the classic.

"So… are you really dating Sae Itoshi?"

You smiled, the same smile you'd mastered over the past few months. The yes-it's-true-but-nobody-believes-me-anyway smile.

"Yup! Totally. 100%."

Cue the polite giggles.

They didn't mean it in a mean way. In fact, you loved how playful your fans were about it. But deep down, it still poked at you like an itch you couldn't scratch.

They were so sure it was fake.

Why wouldn't they be? You and Sae were barely ever seen together unless a manager forced it. You hated attending his matches. He hated social media. It all lined up too perfectly, like the plot of every fake celebrity romance scandal.

You'd whined about it to him just last night. Practically buried your face in his chest, grumbling like a five-year-old.

"Why won't anyone believe me? I want the whole world to know you're mine!"

And like always, he'd just ruffled your hair, kissed your forehead, and said.

"Let them think what they want. I know what’s real."

But apparently, Sae Itoshi had a limit, too.

Because while you were grinning at the next fan in line, mid-conversation, halfway through signing your name on a hoodie, the room shifted.

There were gasps, murmurs, and the kind of hush that only happens when someone so unexpected, so untouchable, walks into the room.

You lifted your head and froze.

Standing casually near the back, hands in his pockets like this was the most normal thing in the world, was Sae Itoshi himself.

Your jaw dropped.

Before you could even string a single thought together, he was walking toward you, eyes locked on yours like there was no one else in the world. And without stopping, without saying a word, without hesitation.

He leaned in and kissed you.

Soft but confident. No over-the-top drama, no staged posing. Just real. Simple. Certain.

When he pulled back, the silence was deafening. For once in your chaotic, noisy life, you were speechless.

Your fans were quiet, wide-eyed, some blinking like they’d just been hit by the plot twist of the century. But not in a bad way. No hate. Just pure, I-can't-believe-I-just-witnessed-that energy.

You blinked up at him, your voice breathless but happy, giddy from the surprise.

"What are you doing here??"

Sae tilted his head slightly, his signature deadpan expression softening at the corners.

"You kept whining about nobody believing you."

A pause.

"I can't take it anymore. So here I am, making sure they're convinced we're together until the end."

You wanted to melt into the floor.

The fans, finally breaking out of their stunned silence, burst into soft claps and cheers. No screaming chaos, no wild frenzy, just a wave of warm, supportive acceptance like, "Well, damn. Guess it was real all along."

And just like that...

All your whining finally paid off.

You couldn't stop smiling even as the meet-and-greet wrapped up, Sae waiting nearby like the world’s most casually overprotective boyfriend, hands tucked in his pockets, eyes glancing toward you every few minutes.

And this time, when you scrolled through your notifications later that night, the headlines weren't speculating with assumptions anymore.

Confirmed: Itoshi Sae And Our Influencer Queen Are Officially Together. For Real.

You stretch your arms above your head, rolling your neck side to side as the loudspeaker overhead calls out another delayed flight. Your phone, propped up against your coffee cup on the little table, is still going strong, the live stream timer blinking away.

The screen is flooded with hearts, emojis, and comment after comment, your fans practically vibrating through the chat.

You let out a small yawn, your voice light and teasing.

"—And that, my friends, is the full story. Yup. That’s how your favourite chaotic influencer and Mr Ice-Block Sae Itoshi became a thing." You grin at the camera, lifting your drink for a little toast. "No fake dating, no PR stunt, just real-deal feelings and a very stubborn soccer boy who took his sweet time making everyone believe me."

The comments start rolling in faster now that you finally stopped talking, and you lean closer, eyes flicking across the screen.

"OKAY OKAY I BELIEVE YOU NOW MY QUEEN I’M SORRY."

"THE WAY I DIDN'T BELIEVE YOU FOR MONTHS I FEEL SO DUMB."

"I KNEW IT! I FREAKING KNEW IT! You two are so real I'm crying."

"Plot twist: Sae is the softest boyfriend behind the scenes."

"Her telling the whole story at an airport like a rom-com main character."

You chuckle under your breath, heart swelling a little at the waves of support finally pouring in. The very people who doubted you for so long were now spamming apologies, excitement, and even edits waiting to be made the second this livestream ended.

You leaned back in the chair, looking out at the huge glass windows where planes rolled slowly across the runway. Your lips curl into a smile, fingers tapping against your cup.

"See?" you mutter under your breath, knowing full well Sae isn't here to hear it. "Told you they'd believe me eventually."

The screen blinks again with another message from a fan.

"Now tell us, where are you flying off to, Queen?"

You smirk playfully at the camera, pressing a finger to your lips.

"Ah, ah, ah—that's for me and a certain someone to know. Spoilers, you know?"

And just like that, the screen explodes with more theories, more hearts, and more love.

You close your eyes for a moment, listening to the soft airport hum, your mind wandering to the boy who'd flipped your world upside down without even trying, the boy who wasn't so icy, once the cameras stopped rolling.

You're still grinning at the endless flood of comments lighting up your phone screen, fans spamming:

"WHERE YOU GOING?"

"IS SAE PICKING YOU UP??"

"TELL USSSSS."

When suddenly—A voice from behind, smooth and slightly amused, cuts through the airport noise.

"So that's why you didn't greet me."

Your breath catches, and your whole body stiffens for half a second before you whip your head around. There he stands, casual as ever in a hoodie and cap, hands in his pockets, Itoshi Sae.

You blink like your brain short-circuited.

Oh.

He's here.

The chat explodes the moment the camera catches the hint of him standing behind you, leaning over slightly to glance at the screen. The comments spiral into full-blown chaos:

"IS THAT SAE?????"

"WHAT THE ACTUAL—"

"NO WAY NO WAY NO WAY."

"SAE APPEARED IN THE FLESH. CONFIRMED."

"I CAN'T BREATHE."

You laugh, cheeks heating up as you tilt the phone slightly toward him, watching as Sae raises a brow at the scrolling flood of reactions. He gives the camera the most casual glance, like he hadn't just walked into your live stream unannounced, and then looks back at you.

"You done?" he asks.

Because, of course, he knows you've been here talking about him for who-knows-how-long.

You roll your eyes playfully, bringing your hand up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Almost," you reply with a soft grin, turning your attention back to your fans, who are practically foaming at the mouth at this point.

You lift your left hand, casually wiggling your ring finger right in front of the camera, the glint of a sleek, simple ring catching the light. Your grin widens when you say, sweet as ever:

"Oh, right. Almost forgot to mention—we're engaged."

And with that, you reach over and hit the "End Stream" button, the last thing your fans see being your smug little wink and the chat blowing up so fast the app almost lags.

Phone off, you glance back at Sae, who—for once—lets out the softest huff of a laugh.

"You just had to drop that like a bomb, huh?" he mutters.

You sling your bag over your shoulder, nudging him lightly. "You didn't want me whining anymore, remember? Plus, I love it when I leave my fans with cliffhangers."

And without another word, he reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, as the two of you stroll off toward the gate, away from the flashing cameras, the exploding comments, and the doubters.

Just the two of you.

Till the end.

80 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 7 months ago

Text

A Love Connection Part 1

In a very special engagement (as in a don't normally post 5 days a week), I introduce "A Love Connection"!

If the premise looks familiar the original idea is from here, where a couple of people in the notes or tags said they'd love to try it. And after a year, I figured I'd try my own hand at the idea.

This will update on Tuesdays at 10am and 10pm EST. With hopefully eight chapters.

Summary: Steve has tried everything under the sun to find someone to truly connect with, so he gives up after a particularly horrible date. Then Chrissy introduces him to her favorite game show "Love Connection". When Chrissy and Robin apply for him, they don't think they'll except him, but he does. His suitors are Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Eddie Munson. Will Steve crash and burn again or will his connection be there waiting for him?

Look, to say Steve’s love life was a disaster would be unfair. That would be underselling it. It was a fucking catastrophe. He had gone to bars, joined hobby groups, used all the apps, even Grindr; though that was mostly for hookups, which sucked. But that was the nature of the beast if he was honest.

And the beast had completely devoured him. All his dates were either only interested the casual, cheated on him, or wanted one-night stands. Which Steve absolutely did not want. He wanted connection. Intimacy.

“I absolutely give up,” he whined to Robin, after the last date tried to slip out in the middle of the night, knocked over their lamp into their goldfish bowl, killing the goldfish, then he tried to hide the evidence by dumping it down the garbage disposal and turning it on! Lied about it, then stole their last beer as “compensation for his trauma’ and told Steve to never call him again.

“Look, Ryan wasn’t the best guy,” Robin replied with a grimace. “He liked Oasis and Tool unironically. Always a red flag.”

Steve snorted. Robin was a music snob most days, but she wasn’t wrong about that. Ryan and he had been dancing around and with each other for weeks before they finally got so hot and heavy that they went back to Steve’s for sex.

“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “You went to that bar and you a hottie girlfriend and I went to that bar and fucked a fish killer! I loved Garfield! He lived for five years before that bastard mercilessly murdered him. That’s long than my last ten relationships combined!”

Robin winced. “Ooh... I’m going to have to call Chrissy and let her know we can’t go back to that gay bar again.”

“Oh he’s so dead now!” Steve ranted. “Not only is he fish killer, he has driven us from our favorite bar!”

“Let me order us some take out,” Robin said standing up, “then I’ll call Chrissy over and we’ll all cry over Ciarán Hinds and Amanda Root falling in love.”

Steve sniffed away a couple of tears and nodded. “Then can we have a funeral for Garfield?”

Robin tilted her head and smiled sadly. “Of course we can. It’s a Sunday so none of us have work. We can watch as many weepy romance movies as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve croaked. She gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. He watched her wander into the kitchen to see what leftovers they had in the fridge so they could order from somewhere else. He loved her so much.

Sometime in the afternoon when they were more than a little tipsy, Chrissy commandeered the remote and turned on her favorite game show.

“Love Connection”

“Noooo...” Steve whined, burying his head into a throw pillow. It was Garfield shaped. It was what inspired the naming of the valiant fish. “This is the last thing I want to see. It’s so fake. No one gets together on these things. It’s so cheesy.”

“Exactly!” Chrissy crowed. “That’s why it’s perfect, we get to make fun of them!”

Steve thought that the only good part of the show was the second half. The first half was split into three different rounds. The first round was each suitor answer the one question, for a total of fifteen and then the catch would rank them, best got three points, second two, and third only one.

Then in the second round there were a set of rapid fire either or questions that the catch would yell out and the suitors would write down their answers. If their answer matched the catch’s they would get a tally. Whoever had the most tallies would win five points. Then three points to second place and one to the last place.

Then in the final round, each suitor would be asked separate questions and the catch would rate their answer one through three and that’s how many points they would get. Then at the end of the round all the points would be tallied up and the two highest would move on to the next round.

To the part that Steve actually liked. The first question always asked was “what would you do for a first date?” And the suitors got to take the catch out for the date and then afterward for drinks, the two dates would ask the catch some of the questions he asked them. Then the catch would pick the one they connected to the best.

It was all the stupid questions that bothered Steve. That was the fun part of dating, having these conversations and learning about them as you go. But then maybe that’s what Steve’s problem was, is that the people he dated didn’t care about these types of conversations.

“Why would you say you hate sports,” Steve huffed, waving his hand at the screen, “when the guy is a major soccer fan? Like did she think that she was going to put a stop to him enjoying it after starting dating?”

“Ooh yeah,” Chrissy agreed. “Just pick a different catch.”

Robin turned to her and tilted her head. “Do they get to chose their catch? I thought it was all random.”

Chrissy paused the show and pulled out her phone and the Wikipedia article. “Okay, it says here that people can apply to be suitors,” she waved at the row of women in the three booths. “Or catches.” She indicated the guy with her hand. “If they’re chosen to be a suitor then they are given a list of catches, headshot included. Then they rank vote them, so if four people pick Henry, then one will be on their second rank vote. And that part is randomized. According to them, anyway.”

Steve snorted. He highly doubted anything was randomized or voted on. They went for the biggest drama and everyone knew it.

“How long has this show been going on?” he huffed. “Like please tell it’s new and shiny and that’s why people like it.”

Robin snorted and shook her head. “Sorry, babe. But this is season twelve.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy said. “We need to show him the season six finale. That was hella juicy!”

So despite Steve’s protests, Chrissy pulled it up on her streaming services even though they hadn’t even finished the episode they were on.

When the credits rolled, Steve stared at the screen in utter shock. “What the honest fuck was that?”

Two of the three guys got into an all out brawl when the one guy had scored the lowest and felt that the second place suitor cheated. Not first place, second. Both guys were arrested and hauled off the set.

“It came out later Sven was right,” Robin said. “Elliot cheated. His cousin was an ex of the catch so he went in knowing a lot about Stella. The things he got wrong were things that had changed since she was dating his cousin.”

Chrissy nodded. “That’s why the have partitions up between the suitors now and why they have vigorous screening now. The show was almost canceled.”

“So why wasn’t it?” Steve asked honestly. “That was a shit show, if I was Stella I would have sued them into oblivion.”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “She did, but they settled out of court.”

“Basically,” Chrissy said, pouring them more wine and handing the first glass to Steve, “she wanted them to completely overhaul the system. She didn’t want it off the air, she wanted it safer for future participants.”

“The more the fool them,” Steve huffed. He took a long sip of his wine. “All right, fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Robin and Chrissy cheered and they all huddled up together on the sofa to watch this absolute train wreck of a show.

They were about half way through the third season and twice as drunk when Steve slurred, “Why are there no gay peemles in this? It’s a trav–trad–tramajesty.”

“Travesty!” Robin slurred back, her language skills always being the last to go when she’s three sheets to the wind. “And you are absolutely right! This is homophobic!”

Chrissy nodded solemnly and pulled out her phone. “I’mma show them...” she muttered with her tongue sticking out. “At loveconnectionUSA Need more gays, hashtag loveconnection hashtag need more gays.”

It wasn’t long after that that the three of them passed out on the sofa, empty bottles all around them and a message on the screen asking if they’re still watching.

There was a loud beeping noise and it absolutely was hurting his head. He reached over to where his phone was usually plugged in on his nightstand, but his hand went straight through it. He waved his arm all over the place but still his nightstand eluded him.

He peaked open one eye but his vision was obscured by a mass of blonde hair. He tried to push it out of the way but it kept falling back into his face. Finally he pushed Robin off him and onto the floor with a thud.

“Hey!” she yelped.

Steve peered over the edge of the sofa with a look of confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” he muttered over the still beeping of his alarm.

“Stop!” he mumbled and somehow, blissfully it did.

“I’m on the floor because you pushed me there,” Robin huffed, getting to her feet. She did a sniff test and grimaced when she completely failed. “God... how much did we drink yesterday?”

Chrissy struggled to sit up and blinked at her girlfriend groggily. “Not enough if I feel like this.”

Steve rolled over and looked at them both in confusion, then the events of Saturday and all day Sunday came flooding back in.

“Oh fuck...” he muttered, sitting up himself and rubbing his face. One eye was blurry from where his contact had shifted in the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had them on. Probably from sheer force of habit.

He got up and stumbled toward the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of all its boozy contents. He really didn’t remember them eating after breakfast, only a steady stream of harder and harder liquor.

While his was puking his guts out, Chrissy and Robin stole the shower. Thankfully only taking the time they needed to get the gross feeling of being hungover off their skin.

Then Steve closed his eyes as they exited the shower and snuck into Robin’s room to get ready for work. They all worked at Hawkins Middle School, where Steve was a history teacher who coached swimming and basketball. Chrissy was a health teacher and advisor for cheerleading. And Robin was the language teacher. The principal snatched her up because she could teach French, Spanish, and Italian, with her only needing to hire a German teacher.

Steve got his shower and then opted for glasses instead of his contacts, not trusting his shaky hands not poke out his eye or some shit.

They all were mostly human once they got coffee, painkillers, and cereal in them, the three of them, no doubt looking like escaped extras from a zombie flick. They moved as one, gathering up their stuff and shuffling out to Steve’s car. Chrissy sat in the back, Robin riding shotgun.

Chrissy opened her phone to check to see if she had any messages. “Holy shit!”

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Look I'd be sorry about the cliffhanger, but you're only waiting 12 hours for it, soooo...

Have fun!

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5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #game show au #tw: pet death #buckingham #not billy hargrove friendly #tommy hagan #everyone is gay

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