#i let a decade go by feeling sorry for myself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thinkinonsense · 4 days ago

Text

Sweet Temptations.

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fingering, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, inexperienced reader, darkish!logan

a/n: hi! sorry i've been gone so long! i have plenty of stuff in the works but for now here's this. i'm working on making a mini-series of dark!logan x inexperienced!reader so i hope everyone enjoys! <3

to think, logan almost went out to the bar tonight. almost left to find a one night stand or come home and fuck his hand. tonight could've had so many different outcomes but luckily, he ended up with the best one.

there's a light knock on his bedroom door. he knew it had to have been you since everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away for the night. logan obviously wasn't interested in going and you were busy working on an experiment in the laboratory.

in all reality, logan just wanted an excuse to stay here alone with you overnight. ever since he joined the x-men and met you down in the lab in that cute white coat and pretty smile, he's had a crush on you.

"hi, logan." you smile softly when he opens his door.

"hey, dollface. you need something?" he asks, leaning against his door frame and eyeing that short little nightgown of yours.

"can we talk?"

"sure."

the two of you walk into logan's room and sit on the end of his bed. you sit up on your knees, facing him. he can tell that something is on your mind but you're unsure on if you should confide in him or not.

"is everything alright?" he asks, growing concerned.

you nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

"whatcha wanna talk about then, sweets?"

logan's large hand rubs your knee softly, almost coaxing the words out of you.

"would you do me a big favor?" you ask, avoiding his hazel gaze.

"of course."

there's slight hesitation. you were afraid of logan's reaction to your request. after a deep breath, you remind yourself that it's just logan. the same logan who trains with you every morning, the same logan who plays with your hair when he's bord, the same logan who praises you for all your hard work in the laboratory. there was nothing to be afraid of.

"c-can you take my virginity?"

the question almost killed logan. he thought he had died and gone to heaven. you finally look at him with a twinkle in your eyes and he feels the need to adjust the tent growing in his pants.

"where'd this idea come from, sweetheart?"

"well, i was seeing a guy a while ago who acted really weird when i told him i was still a virgin then when i told storm and jean, they told me that if i'm ready to do it, than it should be with someone i trust." you explain so innocently to him. "i just figured since you've always been so gentle with me and i trust you, i was kinda hoping you wouldn't mind."

never in his wildest dreams could logan have imagined this happening. you sitting pretty on his bed, practically begging him to take your virginity. god, logan couldn't even remember the last time he was with a virgin. must've been decades ago.

"that's real sweet, dollface. 'f course i'll do it." he says, watching your smile grow with excitement. "first i need to know what you've already done."

"i've kissed while sitting in someone's lap, given a hickey twice... maybe three times? some nights i'll rub myself against one of my pillows."

even though he knew the answer, he had to ask, "ever fingered yourself?"

"no." you shake your head, almost making logan moan at just the thought of being the first person to do that to you.

"want to try it?"

"s-sure but i thought we were gonna–"

"we will." logan assures. "need to get you loosened up first if you want me to fit inside of you."

a small gasp exists your lips, making him chuckle. logan leans in, testing the waters to see how you kiss. he's a bit shocked by how you pull him closer to deepen it. you moan into his mouth while your hands roam his hair. he sits you in his lap and lets you grind yourself on top of him, showing him what you know.

"let's see if you're nice and wet for me." logan hums, lifting up your nightgown and feeling the wet spot over your underwear. "very good, dollface."

without thinking, you let out a tiny moan next to his ear because of his praise. he can't help but pull your head from its hiding spot in his neck to look at you.

"you like when i tell you how good you're being for me?" he ask, watching your face contort as your hips keep moving. one of his hands rests on your waist, stopping you from moving. "c'mon, you can tell me."

"mhm..." you nod. "love when you praise me."

suddenly, your back is pressed flat against his sheets as he kisses all down your body. leaving little marks here and there until he reaches the waist band of your pretty pink underwear.

"did you wear these just for me, princess?" he asks, placing a kiss right over the cotton covering your button.

"y-you said i looked p-pretty in pink."

as the words stumble out of your mouth, logan feels a warmth spread across his heart. a couple months ago, you were wearing a new pink dress and as logan passed you by, he mentioned how pretty you looked in the color. it meant a lot to you.

"you still do." he says. "can i take these off of you, baby?"

you nod, lifting your hips a little to help him. logan tosses the pink cotton somewhere behind him. lifting up the nightgown to your tummy, eyes glued to the spot in between your legs.

"didn't think you could get any prettier." logan mumbles to himself.

his intense gaze made you feel a bit vulnerable, trying to close your legs but his large hands stop you.

"don't hide from me, princess." he says, capturing your attention. " 'm gonna make you feel good."

logan carefully drags his thumb through your slit, collecting the arousal and circling it around your button. the feather like touch sends your head back and whimpers to fall from your lips. gently, logan pushes his middle finger past your velvet walls, groaning once you clench around him.

"atta girl, princess." he smirks watching you swallow up his finger. "takin' it so good."

logan watches in awe as your head fall back and the arch in your back. slowly he inches his face closer and licks a thick stripe up your fold before sucking softly on your button. you feel logan muffle 'fuck' against you, only resulting in more arousal to spill out of you.

"o-oh, logan." you moan, hips chasing his tongue feverishly.

since this was your first time, logan went easy on you, not making you work for your orgasm. he feels your cunt clench down on his one finger as it hits deep inside of you until you are seeing stars. with logan's other free hand, he paws at your tit and rolls it in his palm.

"need m-more!" you whimper with glossy eyes and lips. "p-please, lo."

in an attempt to give you what you want, logan struggles to hit another finger inside of you. he wasn't sure what he did to deserve this type of heaven but god, was he thankful for it.

"i can't, sweetheart." he groans, kissing your hip bone as he speeds up the finger inside of you. "you're too tight for two of my fingers. there's no way i'll be able to fit inside of you tonight."

before you could whine in protest, this indescribable wave of euphoria washes over you. smooth silky legs wrap tightly around logan's head. thighs covers his ears, blocking out the sweet sounds you were making. logan goes back to sloppily making out with your cunt until you weakly pull him off and drag him up to your lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.

"thanks, lo." you smile in a daze at him.

"anytime." he says. "i think you'll need another lesson soon though if you want to take all of me. do you want that, princess?"

he could feel your heart rate increase eagerly. you blush intensely and avoid his gaze as you nod.

"alright." he chuckles darkly. "but first, you gotta show me how you get off on your pillow."

935 notes · View notes

maxlarens · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! Can i request friends for lovers with lando saying "i can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, [name]." ✨🫶 thank you

usually i am so Consumed by the idea of the ✨Tension✨ of friends to lovers that i never do a confession scene but here is me making good on that finally. i hope u liked this anon!!!! sorry it took a while.

In hindsight, you think you should have woken up that morning and known. Known via some cosmic force that today was going to be it— the day you’d been waiting basically a decade for, the day you don't think you'll forget as long as you live—

Instead, you wake up bolt upright at three in the morning, heart beating frantic in your chest, to five missed calls from your best friend.

"What?", you groan, angry, into the phone, then, realising he's calling you at three in the morning, a more concerned note seeps into your tone, "Lan, is that you? You alright?"

"I locked myself out," is the gravelly reply.

"You locked yourself out?"

"I— yes," he hisses down the line, "I forgot my keys okay."

You snort, say, "You're a silly billy," without thinking anything of it.

You'll attribute it to sleep deprivation later, but you'll also find that Lando thinks nothing further of it, too used to you throwing affectionate nicknames his way—

"Shuddup," he mumbles.

You think he's drunk, at least tipsy. He'd said something offhandedly on your FaceTime call yesterday about going out with a few friends you don't know. Besides, there's a slur to his words, a tiredness.

"Come up already," you tell him.

"'M right outside."

You hum in confirmation that you've heard him, put your phone back on the nightstand and slip out from under the covers. You're wearing a sweatshirt that's three sizes too big it might be Lando's and pink fuzzy socks, you feel goosebumps rise on your legs as you pad to the front door. You lean heavily against the wall, closing your eyes as you unlock the padlock and swing it open for your friend.

Lando stumbles in. You twist around to look at him. He's not as drunk as you thought he might be. Sleepy though. You can tell by the squint of his eyes, how they're red rimmed and the mess of his hair. Run through too many times with his hand.

"You want your spare key?", you question as Lando turns on his heel, finding you at the sound of your voice.

He frowns, looking at you like you've grown two heads. Crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Nuh," he shakes his head, then reaches forward to take your wrist, hauling you back through the apartment, "Let's go sleep."

You shrug, acquiescing as he leads you to your bedroom. If you hadn't just been woken up from a dead sleep you might have felt a little weird about it. Paid attention to the stirring feeling low in your gut. Instead, you slip into bed and pull the covers back for Lando without a care in the world.

It's not that weird, you think as he kicks off his shoes and rummages around on your hanging rail for a shirt big enough for him. He finds one that you're sure was originally his. You look away as he changes, shucking out of the short sleeve button up you'd helped him pick out, peeling off chinos you'd also picked out. There's a pair of his gym shorts laying around somewhere, you know it— but he doesn't bother to look for them. Just pulls the t-shirt on over his bare tan chest and climbs in next to you.

You've done this before. Many times. And the two of you make a deliberate point of not being weird about, even though it's been a point of contention in every relationship either of you have had to date. And you don't know what it is tonight this morning, but his presence next to you is making your chest tight. Something skitters up your spine as he slots into your space.

As casual as ever he slings an arm over your waist, tugs you closer to him and presses the line of his nose into the back of your neck. Briefly, he reaches to swipe your hair out of the way, mumbling something about it tickling him.

There's something set ablaze in your stomach.

"G'night, babe," he mutters, breath fanning your ear.

God. You have to suppress a shiver. The babe thing isn't even anything different, he calls you that often enough mostly when he's had something to drink, there's just something about it right now. When you're sleep-woozy and he's just undressed in front of you. Maybe you had a weird dream about him again and you can't remember it, even if your subconscious does.

You bite down on your tongue, answer, "Sleep tight, Lan."

He hums. You crack your neck to stop from letting out a noise that would be utterly indecent right now. Unaware, Lando puts his nose right back in the same spot. You lie there for a while, wired and buzzing, until you hear his breathing steady and deepen as he falls asleep. And even though you feel like every nerve ending in your body is on fire, sleep finds you too.

You wake up again, later, to the morning sun pouring in through your curtains. It lights up the empty space on the bed in front of you. Acreage of bed, pillow, not taken up by anyone.

Still, on your other side, Lando's in your personal space to a degree that you don't realise at first. You wake up disoriented, grappling to remember the events of early that morning. There’s still no cosmic thing telling you that you need to remember today. Commit every single second to memory as it happens. You try to roll over, feeling warmth at your back but not thinking anything of it until Lando gripes something unintelligible into your ear—

Okay. Memories return to you now.

You start to contextualise the skin on yours.

Lando's arm is still slung around your waist, but his hand has made it's way underneath your jumper. Fingers dig into the plush skin of your bare stomach, clutching like you'll slip out of his grasp if he's not careful. Somehow, the other arm has forced it's way under your pillow and you can feel the line of his body against your back, where he's gotten as close to you as he could manage. His legs tangle with yours, one of them spreading out into your space, strewn diagonally across the bed. His knee presses up into the meat of your thigh.

You try not to think how easily your bodies fit together.

You're still for a while. Drifting in and out of sleep. You're comfortable, above all else. You don't really want Lando to move. This certainly isn't the first time you've woken up like this, tangled up with each other, you're betting you'll be able to pass it off with a silly comment once Lando wakes up. You'll extract yourselves from each other and get on with your day like usual.

No big deal—

Lando wakes up half an hour or so later and acts like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He yawns loudly into your ear and rolls over without fanfare—

No big deal—

It's only when you're in the kitchen together— cooking bacon and eggs while Lando drinks coffee from your espresso machine— that the cracks start to show.

You glance at him sideways, watching as he gnaws at the inside of his mouth. His eyes slip off you, directing to the sizzling pan, “What’s up?”, you ask, “Something happen?”

He shakes his head, too quickly, “No. Nope— I—”

He tapers off his sentence, shaking his head. Nose scrunching momentarily. You raise an eyebrow but don’t think much of it. It’s Lando, he’ll tell you if it’s important. Plus, you’re kinda busy right now making sure the eggs don’t burn. A few minutes pass, you ask him to grab plates. He says okay and then drags out an,

“Um,” for so long that you’re a little concerned.

Something nervous flutters in your chest, you’re turning the heat on the burner down low before you know why. You’ve just been friends with Lando for so long, you know when there’s something heavy in his words, when there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

You turn to give him your full attention, your eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him.

“Plates, Lan?”

He’s staring at you. Like, staring at you. Like, slack-jawed, eyes glittering, staring. Like how the guy looks at the girl at the end of every rom-com ever. Like how Harry looks at Sally in every fucking scene of your favourite movie of all time. Like—

Shit. Do you have a massive fuck off pimple on your face? Have you turned blue? Are you being completely out of your mind delusional right now? Because there’s something suddenly wreaking havoc in your stomach. And you really do want to believe that Lando is looking at you in that way, and not just because you’ve got something embarrassing on your face—

“Lando,” you say, firmly, urgency to it, “Spit it out.”

He shakes his head.

You put a hand on his bicep, “Lando.”

It’s got to be that. It’s got to be—

God, your chest feels tight. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. He’s not even said anything yet!

It’s got to be—

He blinks. You think your sudden intensity has made him nervous because he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck from side to side. A little groan escapes his lips.

“I just—” he sighs heavily, as if it’s too hard to force out; but he’s still looking at you, “What if, I was— ugh, no, nothing, it’s fine—”

“What if you were what?”, it’s out of your mouth before you can think. You think you know exactly what the end of his sentence is. You think perhaps you are too. A pause, then, being braver than you thought you could be, you add, “In love with me?”

He looks immediately as if you’ve sucker punched him right in the gut. Eyes wide and wet and red-rimmed, like kicked puppy, a pleading dog. There’s something scared, nervous, in the set of his shoulders as well. You watch them draw up to his chin as he tries to sink into them.

“Why would you say that?” His voice is downright panicked, “How did you know that?”

Your heart stops beating in your chest, drops into your stomach and falls right out your ass. You shake your head,

“I didn’t. I didn’t. I just guessed, Lan,” you realise your hand is still on his bicep, you squeeze, “Are you?”

“Am I?”, he looks slightly incredulous, baffled at what you’re saying like it’s supposed to be obvious that he is, “Jesus. Of course I am. I can’t– I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re there all the time. And y’know, I see you and you’re just,” he waves an arm between the two of you, gesturing up and down at your body, “You’re fucken’ gorgeous. And you don’t say a thing when we wake up together and I’m basically, on top of you—”

“You don’t say anything either,” you gripe, even though there’s something like joy clawing up your throat, “I thought it was normal.”

Lando tips his head back, groans something halfway filthy, “Normal. I didn’t let half my exes sleep over, and I turned around if they did sleep in my bed. And— fuck, y’know— my keys are actually in my pants pocket right now. I was out drinking and having fun and all I could think about was how much I missed you. How much I just wanted to like, crawl into bed with you.”

“You arsehole.”

“What?”

“You arsehole,” you repeat, “I would have let you in anyway. You didn’t have to lie.”

For a long minute, Lando gapes at you like a fish out of water. Briefly, you think maybe you’ve screwed it by being too mean. It’s never stopped you before, but you’ve also never been in this exact situation with Lando before, frighteningly enough—

One second you’re running through all the possible apologies you could give to make it better, to smooth it all over, and then the next Lando is kissing you—

Or, you feel his hand on your chin first, your mouth forming the first letter of shit, sorry Lan, and then suddenly his mouth is slanting across yours. He tastes a bit like morning breath and a lot like bitter coffee, but his mouth is wet and soft and your lips slot together so perfectly. You put a hand in his curls and find that it feels different to when you card your fingers through his hair.

God.

He’s got a hand on your waist and he’s digging his fingers into your jaw like you’re going to pull away from him without warning and never come back.

“Lan,” you say into his mouth, he pauses long enough for you to speak, lips hovering, nearly touching, “‘M not going anywhere.”

He shakes his head, slanting forward to kiss you again, “No, you’re not,” he pulls back again, pressing his forehead to yours, green-as-grass eyes boring into yours, “Please say you’re in love with me right now?”

Despite yourself, you raise an eyebrow, “Are you in love with me?”

He sighs something ragged out through his nose, kisses you again, says, “‘Course, I’m in love with you. How could I not be,” into your mouth.

You hum from the back of your throat, tongue slipping forward to press against his teeth, tangling against his, “Then of course I am, Lan,” you echo.

How could you not be?

u just know all of lando's gfs/situationships HATED the fuck out of her

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #💫drabbles #drabbles:ln4 #best friend!reader

862 notes · View notes

iwaasfairy · 1 year ago

Text

┌─ “ ! „ DECAY

tw. ddlg, noncon, daddy kink, dom & sub themes, forced threesome, patronization, manipulation, objectification, size kink wordcount. 4.4k

a/n. ♡ i wish i could have done more about this idea but i gave myself a bit of a word count limit for kinktober but don't be surprised if i end up writing more for this in the future jhydgusgfy i wanted to go more extreme but i was a bit bummed by the self imposed limitations kHdyugs iT IS What it is ily thank you for reading

miya atsumu x fem!reader x miya osamu

You’re pouting somethin’ fierce, and thick crocodile tears bead your lash line like diamonds.

Osamu’s not entirely sure when it started. If it started at all. Maybe things just happened to play out this way, and it was entirely coincidental, a whisper in the grander scheme of your relationship with his brother - all too small to mention. Maybe safer to say, he’s not sure when he started noticing it— but once he began, there was nothing to keep him from seeing it too vividly in every interaction.

You’ve been with Tsumu since your last year together in high school. Stuck with him through thick and thin, every busy month, each and every match and scandal and fallout - and Osamu’s nothing but grateful for that. You make him happy, Hell, even a blind man could see how the blond blossoms open when you’re around. Becoming a more grown, dependable version of himself. Some days Osamu blinks and it’s like his mirror image has far surpassed his own grounded maturity, leaving him behind in the dust. And it’s definitely you that brings that out in him - and he’s grateful.

But — he remembers the early days. More than maybe anyone else, Osamu remembers that it wasn’t always this way. You were definitely more soft and gentle than they were as teens, but you were no shrinking violet either. A decade ago, Atsumu would’ve been caught dead underestimating ya like he does with a glitter in his eye now. Like it’s a game the two of you are clued in on. Osamu’s eyes glide over the scene painted before him, sipping his beer from the couch.

“Aw, pet, you’ve gotta watch where yer goin’. C’mere, did that hurt?” Atsumu is knelt before you, cupping your face between two rough palms, as he kisses up and down your face. Your wobbly sniffles get hidden in his chest when he pulls you in, and rubs your back like you’re a toddler with a scraped knee. Your hands fist into his shirt before you take a deep breath, going up in his warmth. And his twin beams like he’s the happiest man on the planet, before going to pick you up with a bit too much practiced ease.

Osamu’s not against the pda. You’ve always been touchy, and Tsumu’s a clingy bastard at the best of times. “‘M so sorry, baby. Daddy almost walked straight over ya.” It’s more that he has a problem with. He looks away when Atsumu’s hands slide down to grip your ass and squeeze you extra close, looking down for another kiss that you give like it’s been practiced a hundred times. He’s not sure if the slight pout you have on is truly the pain though, or more the embarrassment he can see creep up your ears and cheeks.

“I’m sorry for getting in the way,” you whisper back, and by the time Osamu looks up Atsumu has made it back to the couch with a fresh beer, with you now positioned on his lap and wrapped around him like a baby koala. You don’t look over at him though, barely acknowledging the strange situation. Almost makes him feel like he’s the one that’s out of place, even though he came over on Atsumu’s request. Even though he was invited.

Samu takes another chug of his drink, before raising his brows, leaning in with an attempt to catch your eyes. “Yer not gonna have any? ‘S yer fridge we’re looting.” You only disconnect yourself from Atsumu’s chest to look at him with heat on your cheeks, perfectly treated hair shining as it falls along your shoulders.

“No, thank you. Atsum- uhm- d-daddy doesn’t let me have any unless we’re going out. It makes me get all bloated, so ‘s better I don’t.” Your long lashes flutter, before you smile again, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Samu.” There’s a beat of silence where his twin seems to give him a look -one he can’t really make out- where Atsumu puts his own beer aside to pull you closer by your hips and wrap his arms around you like you’re best molten to his front. “Hey,” you whisper then, and Atsumu looks up, “can I move? My knees hurt a little like this.”

“‘S that right? Ya wanna turn so you can look at Samu too?” His brilliant smile is almost bright enough to make him ignore the possessive hands that travel too far down when helping you turn, or the almost-subtle groan he lets out when you wiggle back onto his lap. Osamu stares off into the kitchen instead. “You wanna sit ‘n look at someone else ‘cause I won’t do anything. Is daddy not good ‘nough? Maybe I spoil ya a lil’ too rotten.”

“‘M not rotten~, I do like sitting in your lap,” you squeak out almost sadly, starting to leave little pecks all over Atsumu’s lips as if to shut him up. That would probably be good, Osamu thinks. He doesn’t want to consider the possibility that you’re actually tempering him, but it sure does seem like it. “I’m just tired.” And though your voice drops to an almost whisper, he’s too aware of your pouted, glossy lips to not hear every word. Your hands trail through his hair, sliding down his neck with each slow breath. “Just- Daddy, don’t be upset. I’m trying my best.”

You look almost pained to say it, not that his twin cares. “Please don’t get mad.” Anything else passes over Osamu’s head. He just places the empty bottle by his feet and tries to ignore the way you’re now draped onto Atsumu’s lap like you two will start dry humping any second.

“‘M not mad, pretty girl.” The blond grabs two handfuls of ass and rocks your waist against him, making you squeak, before he runs his tongue along his teeth with a noise. “I’m just thinkin’ that I don't want Samu ta see ya like this.”

You whimper when Atsumu’s mouth glides along your jaw and throat, falling back into the couch -crown brushing Osamu’s thigh- when his twin pushes and presses a few kisses down your throat and chest. “Alright, let’s go out.” Then he pulls back flushed, and gets you up along with him. “Before daddy ends up fucking that pretty pussy with a live audience.” He ushers you towards the door with a few pats on your butt. “Go an’ get yer shoes, I’ll tie yer laces for ya, little girl.”

“I- I can really do it myself, ‘s fine.”

It only makes Atsumu puff out his chest, and stare you down with a hungry stare. “Go on, baby. Yer little enough to need my help.” You don’t say anything, but there’s a tense breath of silence that covers the room before you look away with shame written all over your expression.

Osamu’s too speechless to do much but just stare at the side of his brother’s face, who barely shows any emotion other than enjoyment at all. Seriously. It’s not like you to let someone just walk all over you. Or at least, it wasn’t like you, as far as he was concerned. Things have clearly changed. He frowns. “Do ya really have ta talk about ‘er like that when I’m around, stupid Tsumu? Keep it in yer pants, wouldya?”

Instead of the normally snappy reply that he’d expect, the blond just shrugs, tugging at his waistband like the tightness is a little uncomfortable. “Can’t help it. She’s so fuckin’ cute whinin’ and crying out for me.” Brown irises find Osamu’s, and he smiles. “You’d feel the same if ya saw what she can do.” He pats his thighs when you come back from the hall, and holds out his hands. “Come ‘ere, little princess. Daddy’ll dress ya right up.”

Your frilly little implication of a dress is bunched around your hips as he lets you down from another bear hug, and puts on a slight pout. “I’ll be back soon, baby. They need an emergency setter for just an hour of practice. Maybe two.”

“It’s never just one hour.”

The overly whiny request only makes Atsumu glitter more, as his eyes flick down your body and his tongue is caught between his teeth. Truly, the guy has absolutely no decency. This was supposed to be a fun weekend away from work for the three of ya. Not that Atsumu seems bothered by that. After a few seconds he kisses your forehead though, letting you lean into his arms and looking ever so teenie tiny compared to your boyfriend -they’ve both filled out in both size and muscle since high school after all- and it becomes even more apparent when Tsumu squeezes you under his chin. “If ya need anything ya’ll ask Samu, alright? Just pretend he’s me.”

You bat your lashes at him, but let your grip on him slowly be peeled off. “... Okay. Can I have dinner while you’re gone?”

“Hm, sure.” The blond runs his fingers through his hair. “Daddy’s gonna miss ya. I’m not gonna be gone fer long.” Then he eyes him with a grin that Osamu kind of wants to slap off of his cheeks. “Thanks for ‘sittin ‘er.” He doesn’t reply with a smart remark about him treating you like a dog, and just gives a vague hum instead. With that he gives the brunet a quick wave, and gathers his phone and keys on his way to the door. You linger around the entrance a bit longer, before slowly returning to the dinner table with slightly heated cheeks. You tuck your knees to your chest when you sit and reach for one of the side dishes — and he can’t help but say it when the door falls into lock.

“So, what’s all that about?”

“Hm?” Your head drops to the side slightly as you put some pickled radish in your mouth and hum. “Mm, this ‘s really good, Samu! Can I have some?”

“Help yerself,” he nods, and also slides the plates you can’t reach closer. It’s not like he doesn’t understand it at all. You’ve got that sort of puppy-eyes look down, big and round and soft wherever you look, no matter who you’re talking to. It’s the kind of gentleness that calls for protection, and he’s not even the possessive type, but despite that the feeling of being needed sits on his chest and longs to come out. But still. He can’t help but think Atsumu’s overplaying his cards. “Seriously though. You know ya can tell my shitty brother no, right? I’ll straighten ‘em out for ya.”

The words seem to process for a moment, before you load some more food onto your utensils and swallow it with a little noise of thoughtfulness. “I- I don’t know. Atsumu says he likes being the provider. At first it was just little stuff he helped with, and I thought it was nice to be cared for.” You fumble a little with the chopsticks when a piece of fish is extra slippery, and smile when he helps you out and picks it up, carrying it towards your mouth. “You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve fed myself instead of Tsumu doing it for me,” you softly mention. That’s weird, ain’t it? That’s definitely weird.

Still he’s carrying the food to your mouth, and be it instinct, or habit, you look too fuckin’ sweet waiting like a puppy for him to help out, big, doe-eyes and all.

You let the piece onto your tongue, before wrapping those pretty lips around and gratefully humming and — fuck. You don’t notice the way his brow ticks, but his stomach rolls with the realization. Instead of lingering too long on the implication that he might feel the same exact way as his twin, he lets you talk, after chewing for a while. “I just- I don’t like that he doesn’t ever take me seriously anymore. He thinks I can’t do anything by myself, even brushing my own teeth, or picking out clothes! It’s so- so frustrating-” you continue until you run out of air, and seem to suddenly realize who you’re talking to. “Oh, don’t tell Atsumu that. Please don’t tell him. He gets so upset and I don’t like it when he’s mad.”

Samu can’t help but just nod in agreement, not sure what else to say. He doesn’t think his brother would ever hurt ya. Then again, Samu also didn’t think his brother was much of a kink lifestyle sort of guy until the last few months— so clearly he doesn’t know everything anymore. And you seem… okay with it, right? He’s not sure, really. Would he even have the guts to tell Tsumu off if he was sure you weren’t? Instead of lingering on that uncomfortable possibility, he pivots. “Let’s watch somethin’? What do ya wanna see?”

Your eyes shimmer when they flick up, and you swallow before smiling. “Can I choose?” You wiggle in your seat. “Atsumu -w-well- daddy doesn’t let me watch scary stuff, but I’ve been dying to watch the Ring again.” You then lean into his space a little more, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “I assume I don’t have to snuggle up to you though? He did say to pretend you’re him but…” You wrap your thin sweater a little closer. “I’ll hold your hand? He can’t get mad that way.”

How can he say no when you’re staring at him with those fucken stars in your eyes? His fingers find yours on the table, and your hand feels way smaller and softer than his own work-worn ones. “Yeah, sure. But ya shouldn’t watch nothin’ ta give ya nightmares though…” The urge to pick you up and wrap you nice and safe in his embrace becomes stronger by the second, and his eyebrows furrow.

Atsumu is quick to descend on you in the safety of the separate room. His hands glide down your sides and hike up your shirt over your arms, before running his fingertips down the valley of your breasts. “Samu was nice to ya?”

“Mhm,” you bop your head a few times, shivering when the cooler air peaks your nipples and Tsumu brushes his thumb over them. “He was- r-really- ah daddy, that tickles.” Your voice trembles when he eyes you down, before letting his fingers trail down to your shorts instead. He motions your butt up and you lift yourself politely, letting him slide those down your legs too as he lifts one and starts placing kisses down your ankle up your leg. “You said we’d get ready for bed~”

“We are gettin’ ready,” his smile goes a little crooked when you bite your lip, “just curious ‘s all. Ya think Samu likes ya?” He lets you fall back onto the plush covers before walking into the ensuite and coming back with some skincare that he places unceremoniously onto the bedside table- and you frown. If your boyfriend asked you a few years ago, you’d assume he was just genuinely curious. About you getting along with his family, his twin, his other half. But now, there’s an agenda woven into the words. Always is.

“We get along well. Why?”

His lips jerk up, and with a simple shrug he continues. “He’s good too ya, ain’t he? An’ I’ve been thinking I want Samu to watch us some time.” You’re too shocked to say anything, but your mouth drops open. No.

No, it’s already embarrassing how he makes you whine and whimper like a pet for him when you’re alone. It’s embarrassing when he makes you call him daddy when there’s people around with no shame- like he gets off on it. But this- his hands find your face with a soaked cotton pad to start cleaning you with gentle motions, and you find your eyes starting to water. You hate that you’ve become this fragile little flower that can’t speak up when it matters. You’d like to think you’re still the same. But your lip wobbles too easily as Atsumu continues, and your voice cracks.

The mortification is too much to bear, it swallows you up whole. He couldn’t possibly make you. “I don’t want that.”

“What’s that?” he coos, eyelids hooded. He leans down to you more.

You push his hand away from your face and frown, but tears still spill over. You fucking hate being such a crybaby. “I don’t want Samu to watch us.” You still frown though, doing your best to blink away the waterworks. And instead of taking you seriously - of course - Tsumu tilts his head in that sort of understanding that you’re throwing a tantrum like a toddler might. But you’re serious. You mean it. His freshly washed hair falls over his brows, but his hands still find your shoulders to keep you in place below him.

“Aw, baby. Poor girl.” The soft rubbing of his thumb along your skin only makes you more shaky in that feeling, his eyes roaming your body before he pushes you back onto the bed and crawls onto it beside you, pulling you into his touch. It doesn’t escape you that you’re already naked and he’s still dressed, keeping you tight. “I didn’t mean to upset ya. Shhh, shhh, it’s okay.” You swallow, and push against his chest with a slight whimper - why can’t he take you seriously?

“I mean it, Atsumu.”

Before you can say anything else he pinches your cheek hard, and his dark brows lace together. “Don’t be rude.” The darkness fades quickly, but he still doesn’t show any intention of letting you go. In fact, because of his strength against you you’re only forced deeper into his embrace, head pressed to his warm chest. “Daddy’ll take care of you. Always do, don’t I?” You open your mouth to retort, but he interrupts again, and squishes your cheeks together before placing a few patient kisses onto your pouty lips. “Listen to daddy. It’ll be fine.”

It’s so frustrating.

You want to move. You want to remove yourself from the situation he’s putting you in, or put on some fucking clothes, and instead you’re being mocked by him. Once more you try to give him a push for some space, but because he barely feels it or pretends not to, you don’t make a dent. “Tsumu, I don’t want to have sex with your brother watching~” you end up crying out, feeling the tears well up again. “Get off of me.” You start wiggling, as his hand wraps around your wrist and forces it to wrap around his body, clamping your hands together behind his back as he rolls over and starts kissing the top of your head.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. Everything’s gonna be okay.” You want him to leave you alone. “My sweet little girl. You don’t gotta fight me, ‘m not doin’ nothing. I’m here for ya.” His heartbeat is so steady against you that it makes you want to shove him and scream in his face to fuck off, but of course you don’t. You don’t scream. You don’t push, or fight, or make yourself clear. All you can do is cry into his shirt as his smell wraps around you and you struggle to make the waterworks stop.

“Let go~” you sniffle into his shirt, and shiver when his hands start sliding down to pull you back onto him, forcing his thick, strong thigh between your legs. Your straining muscles give up after a while of pushing back, and his embrace still stays.

“Shush, little baby. I got ya, don’t worry yer pretty little head.”

“Daddy~” you whine softer this time, and don’t fight him when he nudges you face up to kiss him. He groans for a moment in what can only be satisfaction at winning the fight, before rolling over so you’re trapped under his heavy body, chest rising and falling against him. And as you try to stop crying, Atsumu has the nerve to rub your head like all of this isn’t his fault.

You can’t escape the heavy gaze anywhere you look. It’s suffocating. Not that you have much room to think about it between the way Tsumu’s taking up your space and forcing one of your legs over his shoulder so he can spread you open. It’s a brief reprieve from the prying eyes blocked by his broad back, but you know it will end. Because Tsumu didn’t just drag his twin here to know that someone’s watching. He wants to make a show of you. To show off the type of power he- oh. Your half-lidded eyes flutter open wider when his fingers spread open your slick and your pussy clenches around nothing.

And Atsumu grins. “Yer so quiet, baby. Are’ya shy?” You don’t answer that, instead trying to chase after his hand when he moves away, wrapping comparatively small hands around his wrist. You can feel the heat of Samu at the foot of the bed, uncomfortably perched onto it with his knee before he dips the mattress further, and your blinks get more rapid.

“Daddy… I- I don’t-”

“Hush,” he moves your other leg aside more, leaving you spread embarrassingly open before he dips his body and glides both hands under your ass, lifting you a few inches. His mouth descends without thinking, kisses and then tongue making you whimper as he eats you out. Not gently, but possessive, demanding licks that drag your split attention right back to him - only until Samu leans forward a little to get a better view. This is so fucking embarrassing. “Mh- Taste good, pretty thing.” Atsumu’s eyes have that same cocky, knowing look he always does when he gets you like this. You won’t do anything back, and he knows that. “Yer droolin’ all over my chin.”

You are. The slick’s coating his lips when he pulls back, trailing kisses up your thighs, before he slides two fingers inside your squelching pussy traitorously slow, and watches your face scrunch. He’s big. He always is, and knows it too, big hands, big thighs, chest, shoulders. Most of all, he’s fucked you enough times now to know that you can’t take him easily without prep, and even that is embarrassing. You could have gone a whole lifetime without having Osamu know that. Why did he even agree to this?

“Little brat,” Tsumu says after a few seconds, flicking your nipple painfully as he stares, clenching his jaw. “Don’t be rude. Samu came all the way out here to see ya, ‘n yer gonna lock up the whole time?” You swallow, and try to talk, but he instead curls his fingers inside your pussy and slides them deeper. Right where you can’t handle them, until you have no choice but to curl and wiggle away from him, mouth pulling open to moan.

“Ah, agh, daddy! Daddy, daddy.” Samu’s broad shouldered figure being barely dressed in a tank and boxers, along with Atsumu’s almost godly physique hanging over you is too much. You shut your eyes. “I can’t- f-focus.” You hold onto his arm as he fucks his fingers in and out of you for long enough that your entire body starts tingling, before he peels you off and turns you over. Rough hands hike you onto your knees, and your ass up in the air before his rough palm lands hard and sends a stinging heat through your legs. “Ow, ow~”

“That’s more like it. I know yer a noisy little bitch.” He rubs your lips up and down with his thumb a few more times, before you hear the sound of boxers being peeled off. “Now, what do ya say when daddy will give ya something ya want?”

He presses the hot head of his cock against you but doesn’t push in yet, and your poor pussy clenches around nothing as tears fill your eyes and you grip two fistfuls of pillow. You can’t say it. Not with Samu sitting right there, judging you both for- another sharp spank makes you shiver, and you whimper into the pillow. The sting aches until heat blooms under the damaged skin, and you unclench your teeth. “Please, daddy? Please fuck me.” You doubt you’re stretched enough to take him comfortably, even with the fingering and all the wetness coating your puffy pussy and the inside of your thighs. “Pretty please?”

There’s a few moments before his hand presses down on your back and his cock slides inside, and you do your best not to gasp too much feeling him force you open. It aches though, and you have to widen your knees to make room and— God it feels so good. You’re not sure whether to cry because of the feeling, or because you can’t stop yourself from moaning high pitched and whiny like a whore putting on her best performance. You really can’t help it. “Agh, ah- d-daddy, move, please.” The heavy weight of his cock bottoms out and he presses his heavy balls against you for a few seconds, before pulling out with a groan.

The motion pulls your entire body back, only stopped by his hand, like you’re some cocksleeve— and you cry harder. “Ah, ah, ugh— Atsumu,” you pout, and he pets your head.

“I’m right here, doll. Does that feel good?” You nod, and cling on, before opening your eyes to look at him with his thighs right next to your head and stroking his cock with an almost torturous pace. You whimper when being bottomed out into, and then your eyes shoot open. You can’t turn, but the low groan Samu lets out when you clench hard around him, says enough— and Tsumu laughs as he watches you panic and your bottom lip wobble, petting your head. Like this is all some big game, keeping you down under his hand while you shake your head.

“No, no- you said- you said he’d watch- agh, daddy! No, no no no, you promised! You promised.” You can’t stop yourself from moaning when he hits deep inside, fucking you much too well. Your mouth falls open as you try to stop the sound, but Tsumu’s touch only gets more demanding as his twin picks up the pace.

“Shhh, shhh, Samu likes ya so~ much. It’s just this one time. And then daddy’ll take good care of ya, promise.”

#kinktober #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #atsumu kinktober #miya smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq atsumu #hq osamu #haikyuu x reader #tw.dark content #tw.noncon #tw.ddlg #tw.manipulation #tw.daddy kink #tw.infantalization #💫ch.atsumu #💫ch.osamu

2K notes · View notes

cyn-write · 1 year ago

Text

"She Blazes Me Beyond All Control"

Summary: Rollo has been eyeing you since your arrival, seeing you as the diamond amongst coals. At the Ball, he corners you into a dance, but your BF is not going to let this slide...

Pairings: Azul, Idia, Melleus x F!reader (Y/N)

warnings: Possessive behavior, suggestive, manipulation and obsession (Rollo), established relationships, romantic ~

Note: This came to me while playing Glorious Masquerade! Let me know if you want a part 2 or any other characters. I really enjoyed writing this and hope to do more! Enjoy!

Edit: Click this link for Riddle, Deuce, Ruggie, and Jamil!

Click Here for Rollo!!

Prologue

"Who might you be miss?"

Y/n gave a kind smile and nodded her head in greeting "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you," she stayed next to Trein as she was there as his assistant.

"Yuu is our magicless perfect of Ramshackle. She will be working as my assistant throughout the trip," Trein added.

She felt Rollo's eyes scan her and, unlike his greetings to the rest, he held out a hand. Being poilet she offered her hand as well and he lifted it to his lips, grazing her knuckles quickly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, y/n. I understand it must be difficult, being surrounded by mages every second of the day. I hope you get a chance to relax this trip."

Y/n blushed at the motion and bit her lower lip. All the while she could feel her boyfriend glaring daggers into her and Rollo.

"I-I'll do my best..." Y/n replied.

Throughout the entire trip, Rollo seemed to gravitate towards y/n and used every excuse to isolate her from the group. They chatted about her difficulties at NRC and of the festival. Due to her being Trein's assistant and the constant reminders to behave she and her Boyfriend had little time together.

This all accumulated at the Masquerade. Rollo had given Y/n a proper dress for the occasion instead of the attire his counsel had chosen. The (color) fabric decadently adorned your figure and stunned the NRC boys with its beauty. But before her boyfriend could ask for a dance, Rollo stole y/n away. He whisked her to the dance floor and they started chatting. At this point, Y/N's boyfriend has had enough of the student counsel president, but what sent him over the edge is when he takes you to the balcony and dare suggest the worst:

"Y/n, stay here with me." Y/n turned quickly on her heels to Rollo in confusion, "The fools at NRC do not deserve your purity. You belong here. with me." He has her pinned against the balcony, "This is your sanctuary."

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul could sense Rollo's eyes on you since your arrival. He tried to be civil as Rollo was a possible future ally, but even a merchant has his limits.

He walks with purpose from his hiding place and places a firm hand on Rollo's shoulder.

"You are quite mistaken Rollo." Azul said with his business smile hiding his true rage, "You see, y/n is deeply loved at NRC and she needs no sanctuary when she has me to look after her." He moves Rollo to the side with surprising strength and takes his beloved's hand, pulling her to him and grazing her fingers with his lips, "Isn't that right, Anglefish?"

Y/n smiled so bright that Azul might have mistaken her for gold, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Azul held on to his Anglefish as he gestured to the ballroom, "it is simply criminal that we have gone this long without a dance, especially when you look this~"

Y/n nodded with a giggle and as they left Azul gave Rollo a final glare.

"One last thing before we return to the crowd." Azul pulled in y/n for a passionate kiss. All in view of Rollo who was revolting at the sight of his pure beauty being kissed by a sea mage.

After a breathless kiss, Azul led his beloved away, sweeping her onto the dance floor. They danced the night away and during a particularly romantic number, Azul leaned into his beloved's ear, pushing away her h/c hair, and whispered.

"I am sorry for letting this get too far. But I can assure you, once we are alone, I promise to show you how much you set my heart ablaze~"

Idia Shroud

Idia was never one for confrontation, but when his girlfriend was being stolen from him, well he did hate to lose.

"Where did you get the villain monologue from? A crappy kids movie?" Idia strode into the balcony and grabbed y/n out from under the creep. "The whole leave them and stay with me thing only works in ottoman games or one-off episode romances and I know y/n hates those subplots." He held y/n close to his chest. "Now, you leave my girlfriend alone, everyone knows in love triangles that the girl always chooses the hero, not the villain."

Y/n looked at Idia in awe. Her boyfriend hated confrontation, but he swooped in like Prince Charming and saved her.

"Idia's right. I love NRC. I could never leave." She said firmly and held locked her arms around his waist, "besides, I could never leave my knight in shining armor!"

Rollo stood in furry as the shut-in stole his beauty. He was shocked that the introverted mage confronted him, or that he was y/n's partner.

Idia glared at Rollo as he guided y/n away from the creep. "See ya Creep."

The moment they were out of Rollo's sight, Idia released a breath and melted into his beloved's embrace.

"Ohmysevensthatwasthescariestthingihadeverdoneinmylife." Idia nearly collapsed into y/n, but he held her tight.

"Idia, you were brilliant! I never thought you could do that, you were like a prince swooping in to save the princess." Y/n hugged Idia back. her anxiety and fear she felt from the situation finally settled in and a few tears started rolling down, "I was so scared idia..."

He pulled back slightly to look at her teats. He whipped away her tears and kissed her forehead, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, He was just so... scary. But when I heard him talking to you like that, i-it got my blood boiling." He placed a hand on her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers, "I know I don't show it as often as i should, but I really do love you... uhg I sound stupid..." Idia's face was burning as pink as his hair.

Y/n smiled and pressed a sweet kiss to Idia's lips, "I know what you mean... I love you too, my star hero."

Idia smiled and kissed y/n again with a deep passion.

He smiled a toothy grin as he heard the enchanting melody seeping from the ballroom. "I know it's lame, but we are all done up in festival cosplay... care to dance?"

Y/n pressed a kiss to Idia's cheek, "I'd love to!"

The couple didn't go back to the crowd. They instead danced right there, just outside the ballroom.

As the music played, Idia leaned into his beloved and whispered,

"I wouldn't be much of a Knight in shining armor if I let my princess think she was unloved... how about I show you how much I burn for you?"

Melleus Draconia

Dragons were possessive creatures, and Malleus was no exception. He did not think much of Rollo and y/n's interaction, but this blatant display of affection towards his perfect. The sky cracked with thunder as Malleus glared down at Rollo from his place lurking spot. Rollo had the audacity to steal the first dance, now he was trying to take away the woman he loved. This would not do.

Y/n pushed Rollo away slightly and spoke up, "Thank you for the offer, but I have not intention of leaving NRC. It is difficult at times but I wouldn't have it any other way. Now if you excuse me, I want to go back to the ball."

Rollo grabbed y/n's wrist and pulled her against him. "It's because of Draconia, isn't it? He has bewitched you!" He pinned her between the balcony wall and him. "Those fiends have enchanted you, but I will free you from those chains and show you salvation! No matter the cost!"

"I think you misheard. Y/n said no." That is when Malleus stepped in. He floated above the two and threw Rollo off his perfect. He swooped y/n into his arms, carrying her like a bride. Oh, how he wished she was his bride, but not now, not yet.

Rollo scowled at Malleus, "You daemon, you and all your kind!"

Malleus' anger flared and another crack of thunder filled the air. He floated down so he was at eye-level with this monster. "If you dare touch another hair on her head, I will show you my true capabilities."

Y/n places a hand on Malleus' chest, "Tsunotarou, remember, we are guests here. What would Trein say if he heard of this?"

Malleus looked at y/n's e/c eyes and sighed. He stepped back, turned on his heels, and left the balcony and the angry monster on it.

Once they were a safe distance from the balcony, out of sight from the crowd, Malleus put y/n down and hugged her close to his chest. "Y/n, I'm sorry I didn't step in sooner. Did he hurt you?"

Y/n could feel the worry in Malleus' voice reverberate in his chest. She placed a hand on his cheek and stocked his soft skin "You saved me just in time Mal." She kissed his other cheek and said, "Thank you, my Prince Charming."

Malleus, in a surge of passion, kissed y/n deeply. He held her so close as if she might disappear if he let go. Y/n reciprocated the kiss.

Malleus parted and looked at the child of man's eyes "I hope you know how much my heart burns for you. Seeing you in the arms of another, it pains me more than anything else." His eyes were filled with a deep love for her. "I know how difficult it is to be an outcast, but I promise I will always be here for you. Even if the world is burning around us, I will hold you close and keep you safe until my dying breath."

Y/n felt her eyes water at his words. "Thank You Mal, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Y/n," Malleus pressed his lips against hers in a fiery passion. They stayed like this for a few minutes exchanging passionate kisses as the music played. Then another symphony started to play and the calls of their companions grew louder.

Malleus chuckled and stepped back, taking one of her hands and bowing to press a kiss to it,

"We can continue this later in private. For now, may I have this dance, my flame?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing an NSFW part 2 or want to see more characters in this scenario, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

3K notes · View notes

neil-gaiman · 9 months ago

Note

Hi Neil howdy

How do people commit to the career they thought of at the age of 9 im sitting here having a crisis a decade later 🙂🙂

Honestly sorry for the rant but i crave to build something big but i put zero efforts in any of my intrests even calling them a hobby would be embarassing because i dont pay attention to any of them i just know i like them because i like the idea of them i just scroll of social media half the time and im tired all the time 🙂🙂

I dont give time to anyone in my life i dont take care of myself or my family or my frienships or my career or my boyfriend and im a mess all the time i dont know how to gwt out of my depression and start acting like a normal huma being its infuriating 🙃

Sorry but idk how to handle myself rn 🥲

I know how you feel. I guess you do it one step at a time. Do the stuff that doesn't help less. Do the stuff that does help more. Make a checklist, with the basic stuff on it that keeps you going: sleep enough, eat regularly, shower, walk, and get that in.

Talk to someone with professional qualifications about how you feel and what's going on. If you don't feel happy about them, look for someone who fits your needs better.

If your hobbies and interests are not bringing you joy let them go and then find new ones. That may involve going places and trying things.

Do the stuff that helps.

Do less of the stuff that brings you down.

And take care of yourself.

(It's never too late to decide that 9 year old you didn't know what would make 19 year old you or 39 year old you happy, and change course.)

Good luck.

1K notes · View notes

queen-of-the-avengers · 4 months ago

Text

Mr. Right Now

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: angst, past trauma of not feeling good enough, it's better off being alone angst, minor fluff at the end

Summary: As a divorcee with three kids, it’s hard to open up to men and allow them into your children’s lives. You’re a single mother who is just trying to get through each day until you meet Bucky. He might be the one you’ve been searching for all this time. Can you put aside your fears enough to let him in?

Squares Filled: band (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

The only time you’re able to go to the grocery store in the summertime is when you don’t have your kids hanging off your every limb. Your oldest daughter and son are at a summer camp you were able to get them into while your youngest daughter is being watched by your mother who had some time for you to get errands done.

Whoever said parenting was the best thing in the world was lying because you want to cry most days. It’s not that you don’t love your children, you absolutely love them with all your heart. You want nothing more in the world than to be their mom but it’s hard some days. You’re a single mom to three kids which takes a lot out of you. You have no time to do anything for yourself. Whenever they’re at school, you spend your days taking care of your baby girl and cleaning the house only for them to return and mess it up all over again.

Being a mom is one of the hardest jobs in the world and it’s not for everyone. However, when you had your kids, you weren't alone. You had a husband who you thought would be with you forever. Then, you caught him with a twenty-year-old in your bed and that set you back decades. It took you a long time to find someone else after him, which you did, and you thought you had gotten your second chance at love.

He was a breath of fresh air after struggling for years. You only had two kids at the time but it was still a handful since they were both so young. You and your second husband had a daughter together, and you thought this was it. This is your family.

Then, he left without warning. He told you that he didn’t love you anymore and wanted nothing to do with you or your kids. He threatened to take Abby but you fought him through a lawsuit. He was bouncing between homes and didn’t have a steady income, all of which you had. If you thought your first husband was bad, your second husband broke you completely.

You swore off men after that. All you want to do is take care of your kids and live life on your own. It’s hard but you know you can do it. Your mother has been very supportive of you and helps out when she can but she’s much older and can’t do stuff like she normally could. Your father passed a decade ago so neither of you have him to fall back on. Your brother and sister moved out of the country when they turned eighteen and haven’t looked back since.

You’re truly on your own which you never minded until now.

You fill your shopping cart as you go down the list you made before leaving the house, and you look at the next item on your list. You’re not looking where you’re going and almost run into someone.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp and look up.

You gasp again but it’s not from the shock of running into him. This man is… You don’t think you ever saw a more handsome man in your life. He’s tall, like a whole foot taller than you, and has dark hair that is not too long. His eyes are bright blue oceans and he is very muscular.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s mine. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry,” you mutter.

You’re about to move around him to continue your shopping when he stops you.

“I haven’t seen you around here and I come here every week.”

“Oh, yeah. I usually get my groceries delivered but I had some time today to do it myself.”

“I’m Bucky,” he smiles.

Damn, he has such a great smile, too.

“Y/N.”

“Do you care for some company while you finish?”

“Sure,” you smile. “So, Bucky, have you lived in Washington D.C. for long?”

“On and off. I used to live here years ago. I just recently came back and am now living with my two best friends. You?”

“I just moved here a year ago. I had to get away from… stuff… I used to live in Nevada and thought a change would do me good.”

“Lucky me that you did,” he flirts.

You can’t help the blush that forms on your face. You’re not used to compliments. You finish the rest of your shopping quickly but you don’t want to stop talking to Bucky. He’s the first man you have had such an easy conversation with in a long time. Your mom wants you to put yourself out there again and try dating but you can’t think of anything worse than that. Dating means bringing a new man into your kids’ lives who will probably leave you. You’re not going to do that to them again so you’ll settle for stolen conversations in the grocery store.

Still, you find yourself not wanting to leave the store because then you’ll have to stop talking to Bucky. However, when your mom calls about Abby crying because she’s hungry and you haven’t pumped a bottle for her. She can eat solid food but she loves your milk more. You’re trying to transition her into solid foods but it’s a work in progress.

“Sorry. I have to get back home.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“It was really nice to talk to you, though. Maybe I’ll see you back here again.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he nods.

You’re gone before he can ask you for your number. You can’t stop thinking about Bucky. You never met a man who could invade all your senses. Your mother left after you got back and you spent the next hour feeding your daughter and putting the groceries away. You put your daughter down for a nap when your phone rings. You take the call when you get to the kitchen to finish with the groceries.

“Hey, Emma.”

“Y/N! You know that band that Leslie goes on and on about?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re playing a gig at The Twisted Bar this weekend. You gotta come with us!”

“I don’t know. I have Abby and I don’t have a sitter.”

“Bring her here. My husband would love to watch her. He’s been so tied with the boys that it’d be nice to watch a girl.”

“Are you sure? What if she gets hungry? She only seems to want my milk.”

“Then pump before coming here. It’s been such a long time since we all went out. Just once stop worrying about your kids. Jace and Lizzy are at camp and it’s likely Abby will sleep the whole night.”

You’re still not sure. Going out with your friends usually ends in one of two ways: either you end up going home early because your kids need you or you end up going home early because all the girls want to do is flirt with men. They’d never cheat on their husbands and they never take it past the occasional flirty comment. When they get like this, guys love to flirt with you and that’s when you call it a night.

You’re not some horny teenager looking for a fun time. You have kids and if these men knew about it, they’d never flirt with you. It’s tiring to go to bars and reject every man because you know what it’s going to lead to.

Still, it’d be nice to go out with your friends since it’s been so long.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but I’m not going there to take some man home.”

“Got it. This is going to be so much fun! Want me to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll meet you there. What time?”

“Six.”

“I’ll bring Abby over at five, then. We can leave together but I’ll need my car just in case.”

You and Emma talk for a little while longer until you hang up. Friday comes quicker than you’d like, and you had just dropped Abby off at Emma’s house. You’re nervous to leave her alone but you’ve been friends with Emma and Robert for decades so you figure you’d trust them with your kids sooner or later.

You and Emma arrive at The Twisted Bar right after Leslie, Jackie, and April get there. It’s a reunion of the decade since you haven’t seen April in years and Jackie for longer. It’s been hard finding time away from your kids.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you finally made it!” Leslie squeals and pulls you into a hug.

“Eh, I figure it’s time to see my girls.”

“It has been a long time,” April comments.

Leslie grabs drinks while you sit at a table that’s near the band that’s setting up. Leslie has been in love with them ever since she saw them opening for Bon Jovi a few years ago. They’ve been slowly rising to fame but they love playing in small bars to stay connected to their fans. Leslie comes back with the drinks and you sip yours leisurely while your friends down theirs quickly. It’s dangerous when you don’t taste the alcohol; that’s how you get drunk quickly.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I’m going to get some water.”

Your friends wave you off, too invested in the music to listen. You shake your head with a smile and make your way to the bar counter. You look away for a second and run into someone seconds later.

“Hey, Y/N!” You look at the person and see Bucky standing there. “We can’t keep meeting like this.”

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You pause after hearing how that sounds. “Sorry, that sounds weird. I mean, hi.”

“Hi,” he laughs. “I’m with my roommates. They’re here to see the band. They wanted me to come out.”

“Same.”

“I was hoping to see you. I really liked talking to you the other day.”

“Same here.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.”

Bucky gets you and himself a drink before escorting you to one of the back tables. Most everyone is up front listening to the band so the back is clear of crowds. It’s easier to hear him, too.

“So, I know I’ve said this but you… Okay, I’m not very good at this. My friend, Steve, says I need to get out more but I actually like staying in and being alone. I don’t normally do this but I really enjoyed talking to you. Can I have your number?”

Just like that, your entire world shatters. You like Bucky but now that he wants to take the next step, he’s becoming a real person instead. A real person who you might have to take home to your kids. A real person who will just leave you like everyone else. You don’t want to do this to Bucky but you scoff in annoyance.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, Bucky. Look, I gotta get back to my friends.”

“Wait, is it something I said? You don’t have to give me your number if you don’t want to. I just… You’re beautiful and funny. I had a great time with you at the grocery store.”

You don’t mean to be rude or snappy with Bucky but you’re sick and tired of men feigning interest in you only to leave you and your kids. You’re not going to put them through all that trouble if the man isn’t going to stay. If you don’t give men the light of day, then they can’t leave you.

“You want my number?”

“I do.”

“Which number do you want, Bucky?”

“Uh, well, how many numbers do you have?”

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, I have numbers coming out of my ears. For instance, ten.”

“Ten?”

“Yeah. That’s how many months old my baby girl is.”

Bucky’s face doesn’t fall in disgust but he’s not jumping for joy either. Tears prick your eyes but you won’t let them fall.

“You have a baby girl?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sexy, huh? How about this for a number? Six. That’s how old my other daughter is. Eight is the age of my son. Two is how many times I’ve been married and divorced. Sixteen is the number of dollars I have in my bank account. 480-555-0199. That’s my phone number, and with all the numbers I just gave you, I’m guessing zero is the number of times you’re gonna call it. You’re nice, Bucky, but I’ve been down this road too many times. I will not allow my children to meet a man I know won’t stay in my life. Really, it was nice talking to you but no man wants a woman with three children.”

You grab your drink and leave the table but stop when you hear your phone ringing. You take out your phone and notice a number you don’t recognize. Knowing your daughter is with someone else who’s not your mother, you answer it thinking Leslie’s kids are using their phones to call you.

“Hello?”

“For the life of me, I can’t figure out why anyone would leave you. I understand the walls you’ve put up. I understand why you don’t date or don’t trust men, especially around your kids. I understand that you had to put yourself back together multiple times. I’m not dismissing that, but I can promise you that I am not like other men. I don’t abandon people and I happen to love kids. If you give me a chance, I would love to show you that you’re not a piece of ass. You’re not a notch on someone’s belt. You’re a woman who I would love to get to know.”

You turn to face Bucky who has his phone to his ear. The tears are already coming down whether you want them to or not.

“All I ask for is a chance.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Maybe it’s you who needs to give him a chance. Then maybe, you’ll finally find the one person you’ve been looking for.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

457 notes · View notes

helluvapoison · 10 months ago

Text

You were a rare soul— and that means something down here. You didn’t care about holding the title Overlord, nor the power that came with it. You had exactly zero souls under your belt, yet people… respected you. Not feared, respected. A peculiar word to hear in Hell.

Your name was uttered quieter than a whisper, like saying it an octave too loud would summon you.

The Rat King.

Soon you would meet…

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer Morningstar ⁎⁺˳✧༚

warnings: gn reader, language, angst, canon divergence

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• He thought it was very brave (re: idiotic) to carry the title king in his domain

• Lucifer came to you out of boredom, absurdity, and— no shit— the slightest bit of self indulgence! He was supposed to see this so called second king and rip them a new asshole. Except you weren’t a king— not even close

• He scoured you toes to head, seemingly unimpressed. Not rat-like, not king-like. Lucifer knew himself well enough to know he should have been bored by now. His expectations plummeted, nothing was going according to plan. And yet.. he found himself more curious than before

“You’re this ‘Rat King’ I hear so much about?”

“I guess so” You shrugged, “But I didn’t pick that name for myself.”

• You properly introduced yourself to the one and only king. Your real name tasted interesting on his tongue. Lucifer tested it thrice as he shook your hand, relooking you over like he missed something

• Apparently they called you The Rat King because you were in the secret trading business. Give one, get one. Simple as that. You explained the rules to him over a cup of tea that he asked for. It wasn’t his first or second choice of blend but he drank it to be polite. No other motive. Definitely not because there was a question on the tip of his split tongue

• Lucifer wasn’t the most observant of people. He couldn’t tell what people were thinking, he wasn’t fluent in body language. So when he caught your eyes bouncing between his tight grip on the chipped cup you offered him, to his jittery knee sticking out from where he sat. His body and his head were, for one, in agreeance; leave, they told him. He didn’t like to be sized up and that was always his go to answer for why someone was watching him so intently. But with his chest facing you, and his heart in control, he stayed put

• “Lilith.” He choked out, “I want any knowledge you have on her.”

Saying her name out loud hurt more than he thought it would. It was acid in his belly, smoke in his lungs, and fire on his tongue.

Your smile faded.

“What?” He scoffed, “Lemme guess, you want something, right? A deal? I have to make a deal to find my own wife? Let’s get this over with then! I’m the fucking King of Hell, whatever you want is—“

Your hand shot out so suddenly that Lucifer was almost disappointed. He was expecting this. Right? This is what Sinners did, it’s why they were here. Why was he hoping you’d be different? And, more importantly, when did hope creep into his system again? He hadn’t been on good terms with the feeling in decades.

• However, Lucifer’s disappointment was killed before it could spread. Gently, so gently he could cry, you took his hand and pushed it, palm down, onto the table. Your eyes never left his. There was something about them that captivated him. He loathed it. It made him feel small. Not the kind of small that equaled insignificant, either.

No, it was worse.

Vulnerable.

“I don’t do deals,” You said quickly and it had Lucifer wondering if those eyes of yours saw how his mind was spiraling.

Stealing his hand back, ignoring how he immediately missed the contact, he wiped it on his pants.

A suspicious glare took over his face, “You—?What? You don’t do deals? What does that even mean!?”

“I just… trade secrets,” You sounded so defeated, “I don’t need deals for that. But I don’t have any secrets about the queen. I’m sorry.”

• Lucifer expected pity to rear its ugly head from you any moment now. His pride couldn’t take that hit, not today. What was it about you that made him so fucking transparent?

• The uncomfortable silence began creeping into the insufferably small shop of yours. It was fucking suffocating.

“I wish I could help you, I really do.” You said softly.

He really wished you would stop doing that. Your softness felt like a dagger to the heart. Reminding him it existed was agony he thought he’d never feel again.

• “Not one?” Lucifer asked bitterly.

Not a single one of these undeserving demons and sinners that Lilith loved so much spoke about her? Not a whisper or a rumor? They just forgot about her? It’s only been 4 years!

“I’m sorry, your majesty, if I hear something, I can—“

“No… No, it’s fine.” Lucifer cut you off, holding up his hand. His wedding ring blinded him with a sparkling gleam. He sighed, “I think we’re done here.”

• You stepped behind him cautiously, walking him to the door.

“You’re welcome to come back?”

He scoffed out a laugh, grinning at you from over his shoulder, “You’re not getting any of my secrets.”

A smile of your own began to spread.

“I also dabble in conversation.”

(part one? or move on to the next character? i dunno if i feel like continuing but want this to be as interactive as possible so tell me what you would like to see!)

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar headcanon #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar

1K notes · View notes

k-aay · 28 days ago

Text

☆ HEY, NEIGHBOUR. HEY, LOVER. (PART 1)

☆ SYNOPSIS : : There once was a boy who had feelings for a girl but didn't know how to express them. As a kid, he didn't know how to get her attention, so he beat up the guys who did, which only lit the flame to a long-lasting hatred between them. That was sixteen years ago, and now you both are twenty-one with homes too close for comfort. But what you didn't know is how attracted you were to him now.

FEATURING : choso kamo

NOTE : this took a little too long to write pls enjoy <3

WC ; 5.2k

CREDITS! : this work is owned by @k-aay on tumblr. please dont steal my work! (i do not proof read, sorry for any mistakes !!)

16 YEARS AGO !

"I hate you!" you screamed, stomping your small foot as your eyebrows furrowed. It was true, you hated the way he was acting right now. He stood there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy, denim jeans, standing not far from you. And on the ground beside him was your classmate wailing with a bruised eye. Choso couldn't care less about the trouble he caused. He kicked a tiny rock before him, "I did you a favour, stupid." You were seeing red at this point as you clenched your fists. "What is your problem!?" you grab him by the collar of his red shirt.

"Hey, let go!" Choso pushes you away, not using much force. "What the hell are you doing!? I was helping you!" he yells, pointing a finger at you. "You punched him! I didn't ask you to punch him!" He frowned. Of course, you didn't ask him to punch that jerk, but he did it anyway. He knew that you wanted that kid far away from you so he punched him. Why were you upset at him?

PRESENT

Choso Kamo was one of the staples of your childhood. He was notorious for leading the other boys in your elementary school like minions and demanding them to create as much chaos with him as possible. And he'd be damned if any of his minions stepped out of line. But that was almost a decade ago and you haven't seen him since middle school. Right now, you're unpacking your boxes after moving into your new apartment. As you sit on your brand-new couch and rest your feet on the cardboard box sitting snugly on the floor, you crack open your last can of beer.

"I thought you said you'd manage to handle unpacking everything yourself," your friend, Shoko says as she grabs the beer from your hand and chugs it. "Ugh, slow down! That's the last can." She wipes the excess from her mouth and hands you the can. "I deserve to drink as fast as I want after you enslaved me today." You roll your eyes and place your lips on the cold, metal top of the can, taking a sip. "And here I thought my best friend meant it when she said I could call her if I needed anything."

"No one means it when they say that. You're fucking stupid for believing that. I only helped because I wanted to see your new place. Maybe even design a room for myself." Shoko shifted her position on the couch, her legs over the top as she sat upside-down. "Why the hell would I give you a room?" She hits your legs, "Because I helped you clean the place with these hands. For hours, if I should add. And you live so close to campus and that gas station."

"I did get a good place, didn't I?" you say, fidgeting your fingers around the can. "'Good' is an understatement," Shoko says, pointing her finger at the window. Specifically the gas station near your house. "Now it's time to pay off your debts and get us some beer and cigarettes. Your treat." You groan, sitting back on the couch. "Go. I'll watch over your lion den." You stand up straight and zip your grey sweater up, slightly covering the shorts you were wearing.

"Fine," you say, slipping into your shoes as you hold onto the wall for support. You place your phone into the back pocket of your shorts and open the front door, stepping outside.

As you made your way to the gas station, you wanted to make the trip quick. Speed-walking through the store to gather the things you needed: bottles of beer, snacks, cigarettes and hangover medicine you know you'll need for tomorrow. You dumped the pile of happiness for the night onto the check-out table and carefully placed the six-pack of beer down too. As the cashier scanned everything, you faintly heard a group of male voices from outside gradually getting closer and louder until they were right outside the door. "Your total will be forty dollars. How would you like to pay?" the cashier dully says, tapping on the screen before him.

"Jesus... forty..." you mumble. "Card." pulling the shiny credit card from your purse, you pay for your items as the cashier puts them into a white plastic bag. You grabbed the bag and headed straight for the door. Right as you were going to push it open, someone had already pulled it open instead. "Yo, Kamo, you gonna go inside? Oh, shit-" the white-haired man cuts himself off after laying eyes on you. "y/n?" he says, a smirk forming on his face.

"Gojo.." you mumble, dreadfully. And in front of him was Choso Kamo. The little leader of it all. He towered over you, his eyes looking down to meet yours. And you hated the feeling of it even more, damaging your ego slightly. "Drinking with someone or are you all alone?" Gojo leans forward, resting his arm on Choso's shoulder who was staring at you with his hands shoved into his pockets the same way he did all those years ago. You didn't want to admit how good Choso looked with his long, jet-black tied back into a bun with a few strands falling in front of his face. "Fuck off. I have to get going. Because unlike you, someone's waiting for me at home."

"Who?" You looked up at the man who spoke coldly to you. It was just one word that sent shivers down your spine. His tone was nothing short of rough. He said that one simple word as if you owed him an explanation and you had to quickly remind yourself that you didn't. "That's none of your business." Gojo chuckles, removing his arm from Choso. "You'll let us in your apartment if we ask to join right? Seems like a lot of drinking for one small person." You were about to refuse them before the other one, Geto did for you. "Satoru, it's rude to invite yourself like that. Especially if you aren't wanted." His tone sounded soft and sincere, but you already knew Geto well enough from previous years to know that nothing was sweet under that angelic voice.

What you couldn't figure out was the man still intensely staring at you, Choso Kamo. You looked away from him and shook your head before pushing past them and walking off. "Not even a goodbye?" Gojo calls out yet you ignore him like you've been doing all these years. But you still felt as if eyes were on you.

Once you hurriedly made it back to your apartment, you placed the white, plastic bag on the floor and opened a beer. Shoko watched as you chugged the entire thing, reminiscing bad memories of not only your recent encounter with Choso and his little minions but old, previous ones as well. "Damn, who got your panties in a twist?" She asked, opening a beer for herself as she took a small sip. "Those wannabe-frat punks."

"Gojo and Geto?" Shoko asks, laying her stomach flat with one hand holding her beer bottle dangling off the couch. "Oh, and don't forget their little don," you aggressively place the bottle on the ground, but not strong enough for it to break into pieces. Your reminder of the two boys' leader grabbed Shoko's attention. "He's back?" You nod your head, not bothering to look at her. "Is he still hot?" Now you look at her, disgusted in fact. "Ye- no!" Shoko raises a brow as she takes another sip of beer, skeptical of you having to correct yourself. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

"He pisses me off! I swear I wanted to beat him up with my bag when I saw him! Right on the spot where his little dick-sucking friends could see." You chugged the bottle, every last drop of the drink was gone. Shoko looked at you, realizing the extent of your anger. You opened another beer bottle and started drinking. "Once I get my hands on that deadbeat, motherfucker-"

It was hours later before the effects of multiple beers kicked in. Shoko left early due to an assignment that was due the next morning, leaving you drunk and alone. You were lost in your thoughts, mainly about the man you dreaded. You laid flat on your back, the coldness of the wooden flooring was one of the few things you felt after those beers. Suddenly, loud music startled you and you looked at the wall where the apartment next door was on the other side of. That was where the music was coming from. You were already upset and annoyed by the encounter at the gas station. Being drunk meant your decency to be a good neighbour, especially on the first day of moving in was kicked out of the window. You put on your slippers and exit your apartment, knocking on the door next to yours.

No answer...

So you knocked again. It's louder this time. Only now, the door finally opened. The muzzled-out music was louder and gave you a minor headache. Standing on the other side of the door was Choso, looking as calm as you were shocked. "Can I help you?" he asked, his eyes lowering to your body which was covered in a short, white tank top and jean shorts that almost fully covered your thighs. You felt his gaze lingering for a few seconds and a blush crept onto your cheeks when Choso's eyes met with yours again. It was like a staring contest you were determined to win. Even when he had his hair messily down, making it ten times harder for you to look at him, you weren't going to face defeat. Instead, you cleared your throat, trying to be as intimidating and nonchalant as possible as you slammed your hand against his door. "Turn down the music, dork. You're gonna wake up the entire building with that shit."

Unfortunately for you, your eyes lingered down on the very shirtless person you were berating. Choso's arms were crossed, covering half of the view of his chest. Secretly, you were praying for this man to let his arms down to his side. It felt like you were a high schooler all over again, drooling over guys from magazines but instead, you were drooling over the man that was physically impossible for you to get along with. But your intoxication left no room for shame and locked it behind chains and a metal door.

"No," he spoke. "Are you drunk?" You rolled your eyes and walked closer, stopping right in front of him, your slippers almost touching his feet. "Turn. Down. The. Fucking. Music. Got it?" Your arm leaned against his door as you waited for his answer. As much as you were scared, you stood your ground with confidence, until Choso leaned down to reach your height level. "No." You unknowingly backed up an inch, causing him the slightest smirk plastered on his face. "I'll-" Choso raised a brow as you stammered. You didn't know what you were gonna do if he refused. His smirk widened at your loss of words. "What? You'll what?" Being tongue-tied meant you had already lost the argument right when it started escalating to threats.

Unfortunately, you had no threats in mind. Damn him and how good he smelled right now. It ticked you off how weirdly attracted you were to him at the moment and you did everything you could to put that energy into thinking of a way to piss him off. "I'll call the cops and file a noise complaint."

He rolled his eyes and stepped back, leaning against his doorframe again. You were waiting for a response from him, but secretly regretting the threat of calling the cops. It wasn't like you were going to go through with it. Your mind was running with thoughts you knew shouldn't belong in your head, slightly fidgeting with your fingers as Choso's gaze remained on you. Burning heat spread across your cheek as his stare slammed into your eyes. "Okay. I'll turn it down," he finally speaks. "On one condition." You tilted your head, placing your hands behind your back. "Who did you have over tonight?"

"What?" His heavy eye didn't falter for a second after he spoke. "Answer the question and I'll lower the volume." You were delighted with the easy condition but as happy as you were came confusion. Why did he want to know? "I answer the question and you'll have it lowered?" you repeat, seeking reassurance. "As low as you want, sweetheart." Sweetheart... Why did it feel as if any of your rational and sane thoughts had escaped your head right when that name so casually rolled off his tongue? Especially in a way that shouldn't have you fantasizing about him. You blamed the alcohol for causing the way you felt. "So? Spit it out," he demanded, snapping you out of reality. "Cat got your tongue or are you too scared to admit that you were with someone and had some fun?" What was this guy thinking? Never mind that, the way he was acting suddenly gave you a little ego boost, reminding you about who has to be in charge of this situation.

"So impatient, Choso. Didn't you hear? Curiosity killed the cat," you smirked. He leaned forward, "Everyone always leaves that saying unfinished. Didn't you hear? Satisfaction brought him back, sweetheart." The way his mood was dead serious only pushed the situation to make you feel even hotter. "Now I hate to rush the moment, but I have a party to get back to. If you want the volume to be lowered, then you better fess up and tell me who you were with." You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to give him a piece of your mind by the way he was talking down on you. "Fine, fine! I was with Shoko. Shoko Ieri from high school." Choso steps away from you, placing his hand on his door. "Alright. Goodnight then." The door closed, leaving you with a lowered volume from the other side and still a heavy head.

Choso leaned against his door, his heart pounding against his chest as he replayed the encounter with you in his mind. He had always been aware of your presence; you were the girl who captivated him in a way he couldn’t articulate. Sixteen years had passed since those chaotic childhood days, yet the memory of your fiery spirit and stubbornness remained vividly alive in his thoughts. Even now, when you stood before him, looking so determined and slightly intoxicated in your little tank top and shorts, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to you. As he turned back into his apartment, a stark contrast to the chaotic swirl of emotions inside him. Gojo and Geto had organized a small gathering, and despite the noise, he wasn’t in the mood for a party anymore. Not when he was buzzing from your confrontation.

“Choso! You’re not just gonna stand there all night, are you?” Gojo called from the living room, pulling him out of his thoughts. The white-haired jokester was sprawled across the couch, a beer in hand, while Geto lounged in an armchair, flipping through his phone with a disinterested expression. “Yeah, man. C’mon, don’t leave us hanging,” Geto chimed in, looking up from his phone. Choso trudged over, taking a seat on the edge of the couch, his thoughts still lingering on you. “What’s the plan? Just drink and laugh at stupid shit?”

"No fucking shit. Who was at the door?" Gojo asked. Choso shot him a glance and shook his head, "Just a noise complaint from my neighbour. It's nothing. Just continue where we left off." Gojo and Geto looked at each other before nodding their heads, continuing their yap. As the night wore on, Choso felt increasingly restless. He leaned back, crossed his arms, and tried to immerse himself in the conversations, but every laugh reminded him of you. The familiar faces of his friends were around him, but all he could picture was the fiery girl who lived just next door.

THE NEXT MORNING !

It had to be at least seven in the morning or even six by the way the sun was shining too brightly through the curtains of your window. Your alarm was found on the ground and seemed to have been knocked over. You rolled around, grabbed your pillow and roughly muzzled it over your face attempting to shield your eyes from the brightness. A hard-hitting headache kicked in but your tiredness from the previous night hadn't left. You threw the pillow to the side and sat up straight, stretching your arms. Going through your morning routine was nearly impossible with a hangover present. So you just brushed your teeth, got a hot cup of water and made your way to the balcony to take in some fresh air. The mug you took a sip out of was warm, heating your hands as the cool breeze from outside hit it. When you turn to your left to glimpse more of the view, you catch a sight you wished you hadn't discovered.

A still shirtless neighbour staring directly at you from his close balcony as he sipped on something from his mug. Choso's hair was tied back and eye-bags were visible even from the distance you were at. "Morning," he spoke. His voice was still deep and raspy after having just woken up. You nod your head, memories of last night flooding back into your head. "You get any sleep?" he asks, his expression showing that he doesn't care about what your answer is going to be but your gut told you otherwise. "No, not much." You kept your answer short and simple, keeping your distance from him. The feeling he gave you wasn't something that could be easily trusted especially after years of knowing him. Even with the sounds of cars and ongoing traffic outside filling the air, it still felt awkwardly quiet now that none of you were talking. You took a sip out of your cup, uncomfortably tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear afterwards.

"Do you still think about middle school?" Choso breaks the trend of silence. You raise a confused brow, caught off guard by his sudden question. "Middle school?" you repeat. He leans against the railing of the balcony, the small gap between yours and his being something you could be grateful for. "Yeah," he answers. "That's... random." You take a moment to think about it. It was so long ago that you don't remember that much about your days there. "Not really. Why?" Choso smiles. "You had a record for being a goody-two-shoes if I remember correctly." You roll your eyes, "And you had a record for causing all the trouble there. You didn't even have a reason most of the time." Before you even knew it, he managed to get you all fired up with only a few sentences. “Not really. You were always so serious. I wondered what it would take to get you to loosen up,” he says, his gaze steady and probing, those dark eyes searching for something in yours. You laugh, the sound is almost incredulous—a mix of disbelief and amusement that dances in the air between you.

“And you thought causing trouble was the way to do that?” Choso nods. “Absolutely,” he replies, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if sharing a secret only you could hear. The air between you crackles with unspoken tension, charged with memories of past escapades and the thrill of possibilities. You can almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin, the casual intimacy of the moment drawing you in. “You still seem like you’re stuck in that same routine. Being stuck in the same loop of following nothing less than the rules, aren't you, sweetheart? ” His words hit a nerve, and a rush of defensiveness rises within you. “Maybe I like my routine,” you counter, crossing your arms tightly, a shield against his probing gaze. Yet, even as you say it, doubt flickers in the back of your mind, a tiny voice questioning whether you truly find comfort in the mundane.

You glance down, noticing how your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt, a clear sign of the restlessness brewing inside you. It’s a familiar feeling, one that has settled in your chest like a weight over the years. The thrill of spontaneity seems like a distant memory, and the thought of breaking free from your carefully constructed life sends a jolt of adrenaline through you. He's getting to you. You remember who you're talking to and snap out of the reckless thoughts. "Not that it's your business anyway," you add to your previous sentence. "When did you even move here?" He shrugs, "Before you. Maybe three months prior." His answer causes you to raise a brow, "I've been coming in and out of this apartment for almost a week now. How come I've never seen you even once?"

“Guess I’ve been keeping a low profile,” he replied a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. “I like my peace and quiet. But it looks like that’s changed now that you’re my neighbour.” You felt a mix of irritation and something else—something you weren’t ready to confront. “Right, because peace and quiet is exactly what you’re all about,” you said, crossing your arms again, trying to project confidence despite the flutter in your stomach. Touché,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement, leaning back against the railing with easy confidence. “But hey, it’s not all bad. Maybe you just needed someone to shake things up a bit.” You roll your eyes. “Shake things up? Is that your idea of fun?” You raised an eyebrow, attempting to keep the conversation light, but the air around you thickened with tension. You could feel his gaze tracing your features, and it made your pulse quicken.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in slightly, the space between you charged with an unexpected energy that felt almost electric. “You ever think about breaking out of that ‘goody-two-shoes’ routine? Just for one night?”

Your heart raced at the suggestion, thoughts whirling as you considered the implications. “And what would you suggest? A wild night out with you?” Your tone was half-joking, but a part of you wondered what that could entail. "Cute," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his words, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "But I meant going out with your friends if you still have any, sweetheart." You stepped closer to where the railing was, feeling the cool metal against your palms as you leaned over, looking out at the sprawling city below. The morning light bathed everything in a warm glow, but your focus was entirely on Choso.

"What's that supposed to mean, asshole?" Choso feels satisfied at the sight of getting a rise out of you. He leans casually against the railing, the morning air crackling with tension. “Just calling it like I see it. You’ve got this whole perfect image to uphold, but everyone breaks eventually." You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “So, what? You think I’m just sitting around waiting for permission to have fun? I have a life, you know.” You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “Right. A life filled with study sessions and early bedtimes.” He chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter and the sound was both infuriating and oddly charming. The way he carried himself—carefree, a little reckless—made your heart thump in a way that both excited and terrified you. “What's wrong with that?” you challenged, trying to regain some control. “Not everyone wants to be reckless like you, Kamo.”

"'Fun' doesn't just mean trouble and recklessness. It's really upsetting how you and many others look at it like that," he countered, causing you to run out of excuses. "I'm perfectly happy with where I'm at right now so what are you trying to do, hm? What's the scheme here?" Choso crossed his arms, the front pieces of his hair flowing with the wind slightly in a way that made your stomach do a flip. "There is no scheme here. And since you're getting so defensive, I'll back off. Goodbye, Ms. Neighbor." He took a step back, sliding the door closed behind him with a finality that left you standing there, breathless. The silence that followed felt heavy, pressing against your chest as you turned back to the view, the city sprawling below you, full of life and possibility.

Frustration bubbled up within you, mingled with an unexpected yearning. Did he really think he knew you? Your routine? The familiar comforts of studying and early bedtimes were just that—comforts. But the way he challenged you made you wonder if you were missing out on something.

You stared at the door he had just closed, the weight of his words lingering in the air. Maybe he had a point. The thought of breaking free, even just for a night, sent a thrill through you. But the idea was terrifying. As you stood there, you felt the urge to retreat back into your safe little world, but the thrill of possibility tugged at you. What if you did reach out to your friends? What if you let loose for one night? The thought of laughter, music, and dancing sent a shiver down your spine.

With a deep breath, you stepped back inside your apartment, heart racing. Maybe it was time to shake things up. A wild night didn’t sound so bad after all. You glanced back at the door, a spark of rebellion igniting within you. Perhaps it was time to see what life could be like beyond the confines of your routine. You pick up your phone and dial Shoko's number. After a few rings and a wave of anxiety washing over you, she picks up. "Do you wanna go out to the bar tonight?"

10:45 PM.

You walk into a local bar, Shoko standing by your side. "Are you sure? I get that you're trying something new but you hate everything that's sloppy. And a guy is literally over there making out with a woman and pressing up on her. Gosh... they need to take it somewhere private soon." Shoko's suggestion sounded like heaven to you right now. The apartment building was calling your name and you felt a rush of regret hitting you in the face. "I'll be fine. It's only a night anyways." You glimpse around the bar and see a familiar set of eyes latched onto yours. "What the fuck is he doing here?" Shoko looks into the direction your eyes were latched on after hearing your question. There standing was Choso Kamo. As you stood frozen, the air between you and Choso felt electric, charged with all the unspoken words and unresolved tension from earlier.

Shoko sighed and shook her head, "You have fun with that. I'm gonna go get some drinks." You nodded and she disappeared to the bar. Choso walked towards you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black zip-up hoodie. He smirked, that infuriatingly charming smile playing on his lips as he moved closer, the crowd around you seeming to disappear. “What a coincidence, huh?” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart.” Your lips pursed. “Right,” you shot back, your irritation flaring. “Just because I’m trying to have a night out doesn’t mean I’m okay with your... little show here.” You gestured vaguely at the bar scene, and his gaze narrowed slightly, the challenge sparking in his eyes. “Little show?” he echoed, leaning in a fraction closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“You mean the one you were just about to join? Seems like I actually got to you, hm? You're gonna have more fun here than you think.” Choso's tall figure towered over you, he watched as you avoided eye contact with him. “Fun?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “This isn’t gonna be anywhere close to fun. This is a disaster waiting to happen. Look at that guy over there—making out with a total stranger like he’s in a bad rom-com.” You nod your head towards the couple Shoko pointed out earlier. Choso moved his eyes towards them and then back at you, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. "Jealous?" he teases. "Of what?" He leans down, his mouth right beside your ear. "That she's actually kissing someone. I mean, you're so pent up all the time... It's almost obvious that you're not getting enough action. I almost feel bad." He pulled back away from you. "Tell me, sweetheart, how long has it been?"

"You- That's none of your business." He chuckles, "There's no need to be ashamed. I can offer some help, I'm quite the catch after all." Your cheeks flushed a slight red and he didn't need to see. You couldn't let him see. “Please,” you rolled your eyes, but your heart raced beneath your carefully constructed facade. “You’re more of a distraction than anything. You think you can charm your way through life and not get called out for it?” Your fists were clenched, wondering how much longer Shoko's gonna take with those drinks. “Maybe I like a little mess now and then.” He stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating toward you, his voice dipping into a low, teasing tone. “Not everyone wants to play it safe. Not someone like you.”

“What's someone like me supposed to mean?” You took a half-step back, an instinctual move to reclaim your space, but it felt like a losing battle. “Someone who hides behind her books and schedules,” he said, his gaze piercing into yours, unrelenting and intense. It felt like he was peeling away layers you’d meticulously constructed, leaving you exposed. “You appear to be afraid of a rush, but I can see it. You crave it.” Your eyes slightly widened, “Stop pretending you know me,” you shot back, your pulse quickening with irritation and something deeper—something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite understand. “You don’t have a clue what goes on in my head.” He leaned in closer, the air thickening between you. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

The noise of the bar faded, replaced by the rapid beating of your heart. “But if you think you can just dismiss me, then maybe you’re the one who’s scared.” Your breath caught, the heat between you palpable and electric. “Scared? Of you? Don’t flatter yourself.” A smirk tugged on his lips. “Not flattery, just observation,” he replied. “But maybe you should be scared. I might just get you to do something reckless tonight.” You shook your head. “Reckless?” you echoed, your voice laced with a mix of annoyance and a flutter of excitement. “You think I’m just going to drop everything and follow you into chaos?”

“Why not? You’re already here.” His voice was smooth and seductive, the challenge hanging in the air like a promise. As he stepped even closer, the world around you seemed to dissolve into nothingness. The offer was tempting. Too tempting for your liking. You purse your lips, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he sees you considering it. "C'mon, you know you want to." You nod your head, "Fine."

TBC...

153 notes · View notes

pandapetals · 1 month ago

Text

Nightmares

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - angst, nightmares, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

After dating for a while, you try to convince Logan to stay in your bed despite his nightmares.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

Things between you and Logan had moved quickly after that long year of pining, flirting, and stolen glances that led to the inevitable confession. It had taken time, but once the feelings were out in the open, things fell into place—almost effortlessly. Logan was a gentleman, old-fashioned in the way he held the door for you or offered his hand whenever you stepped out of the car.

While you appreciated all those gestures, what you longed for most was something simpler. You wanted to wake up within arm’s reach of him, to feel his warmth next to you when the early morning light crept through the window.

But that seemed impossible.

Everyone at the mansion knew Logan didn’t sleep much, and when he did, it often ended in nightmares—violent, heart-wrenching ones that sent his body into a battle of its own while his mind relived horrors buried deep within him. It had been that way for decades, and the others had grown used to the occasional sound of his muttering, the low groans that echoed through the mansion in the dead of night.

You weren’t used to it. You wanted to help. From the moment the two of you began dating, you had been determined to ease his pain. Yet, every time you mentioned it, Logan would brush it off, insisting that it was something he’d learned to live with. "It’s part of me, sweetheart," he would say, his voice low and gruff as if the weight of it all was too much to burden anyone else with. "Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it."

So, he kept his distance. Even as you grew closer emotionally, he kept you away at night, a silent barrier between the two of you. He feared hurting you—he feared himself.

One night, after yet another evening of him retreating to his own room, you had had enough.

"Logan," you said firmly, your voice a mixture of frustration and affection. "I’m telling you, I’ll be fine."

He was standing near the edge of the bed, his shoulders tense, the muscles in his arms coiled like he was ready for battle. He shook his head, not meeting your eyes. "You don’t understand," he muttered, his voice thick with that familiar rasp. "I could hurt you. When the nightmares come... I have no control. I can’t... I won’t risk it."

Your gaze dropped to his hands, those calloused hands you knew so well—hands that had held you gently, protectively. You also knew what lay beneath the surface. His claws retracted now, but always there, waiting. The thought of him losing control scared him more than anything.

"I don’t trust myself," Logan whispered, his voice barely audible now as if he was confessing a sin. "I’m sorry."

He turned to leave, but you weren’t ready to let him go—not this time. With a quick movement, you slipped out of bed, catching his arm before he could leave your room. "Logan," you said, your voice softer but firm, pleading. "Please. Just try for me. If it’s too much, I’ll sleep on the floor or... or whatever it takes. But just... be here."

He looked down at you, his expression torn, those stormy eyes filled with an internal battle you couldn’t even begin to understand. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with a resigned sigh, he nodded—barely, but it was enough.

The first night he stayed with you, you had sensed it even before he woke. The way his breathing quickened, his muscles tensed beneath the blankets—small signs that told you the nightmare was taking over. You didn’t hesitate. Slipping out of bed silently, you moved to the chair by the window, watching him carefully from a safe distance. You weren’t afraid—you trusted him—but you knew Logan would never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Moments later, his body jerked violently, a low growl escaping his throat as his claws extended with a harsh snikt. He woke with a start, sitting up and panting, his chest heaving as he tried to get his bearings. His eyes scanned the room until they found you sitting there, calm and patient, waiting for him.

"You... you moved," he said, his voice hoarse, the pain of the nightmare still lingering in his tone.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Just giving you space," you said gently. "I’m here, Logan. I’m not going anywhere."

He stared at you for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as he realized you weren’t afraid. You hadn’t run. You were still here, waiting. It was then that he knew he didn’t have to explain—he never had to explain. While he rarely shared the details of what haunted him, on nights like these, when he felt safe enough, he would start to talk, his voice low and raw, as if the words hurt to speak aloud.

He told you about the wars, about the blood and death, and the faces that still haunted him. About the men he had killed, sometimes not even remembering their names. You listened, always listening, never asking more than he was willing to give. When he grew quiet, you would move back to the bed, curling up beside him, grounding him with your presence.

As time passed, Logan began to relax more around you, his nights spent in your bed becoming more frequent. The nightmares didn’t stop, but he learned to trust that you were there, that he wasn’t alone in the fight.

You made your room a safe place for him—a sanctuary of sorts. The dim light of the bedside lamp, the soft hum of a fan in the corner, and the familiar scent of vanilla from the candles you liked to burn. Everything in the room was designed to soothe, to ground him.

Before bed, you created a routine—something simple but effective. You’d brew a cup of chamomile tea, and he’d drink it with that reluctant smirk of his, pretending he didn’t need it but secretly enjoying the quiet ritual. Afterward, you’d settle into bed together, and your favorite part came next.

"Alright," you’d say softly, pulling out a book from your nightstand. "What are we in the mood for tonight? Something classic?"

Logan would nod, his body already relaxing into the pillows. It became part of the routine, you reading aloud to him, your voice a soothing balm against the chaos that sometimes lingered in his mind. You’d start with a chapter or two, your voice soft and melodic, and by the time you’d finished, Logan’s breathing would have slowed, his head resting against your shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

Some nights, he’d drift off peacefully before you even closed the book, the tension in his face softening as sleep claimed him. You’d smile to yourself, gently placing the book on the nightstand, and press a kiss to the top of his head before turning off the light.

One night, after you finished reading, Logan murmured sleepily, his voice rough but content, "Don’t know how you do it, darlin’."

"Do what?" you asked, brushing your fingers through his hair.

He shifted, tightening his hold on you. "Make me feel...safe."

You smiled in the darkness, your heart swelling at his words. "Because you are safe, Logan. With me, you always will be."

In the quiet that followed, with the moonlight streaming softly through the window, Logan finally let himself believe it.

148 notes · View notes

justin-chapmanswers · 3 months ago

Note

Sorry if this is a bit rude, but how do you consider yourself as he/they or they/he? I am questioning my sexuality and gender at the moment and seeing you (idk if ur lgbt) makes me find comfort, if you can, how did you realise you were not straight and how I can find mine! :3

Oh golly uh. Let's see if I can keep this short and then bury it under other answers. <3

Labels are fun cause they're so funky and ever-changing as you learn more about yourself. So, firstly, don't stress about finding something so perfect right away and bounding yourself to it. You're still you, any way you word it.

Gender-wise I'm in a state of def preferring they but being chill enough with he. Like whateverrrrr. It's hard to get around societal norms and perceptions, so my expectations are calibrated accordingly. I of course feel that for people who feel more strongly about a specific label, it's important to fight for it to be recognized whenever you're in a safe-enough environment to do-so. But for me, the concept of pushing for a specific label or, even more-so, of seeing other people pushing others to use a specific label for me is veryyyy anxiety-inducing. I tend to avoid spotlight when possible. But at the same time, a lot of it just comes down to not wanting to be grouped/perceived gender-ly at all. I tend to use the label agender. But I'm sure a lot of people have similar experiences with different labels. I just, ya'know, wanna be me.

Gender exploration is funnnn. There's no one right way to learning about yourself. Some people know from a young age, almost inherently, some people figure things out a lot later. It's never too late. Some people learn with outfits and styles, some with looking to people/characters who they want to be perceived more-like, some with experimenting through new names/pronouns and feeling-out how being called different things makes them feel. If you have friends you feel safe around with all of this, on or offline, can't hurt to say "hey would ya mind calling me x-name or y-pronoun for a bit?" And if you don't like it, you don't need to stick with it. But really be cognizant of it feels right to you.

Then on the romantic orientation side, that's been a much longer journey haha. I was calling myself straight through middle schooler, bi for a bit in early high school, gay starting in later high school, then for a long while. Nowadays I just say queer. Labels make things easier, until they don’t haha. For me, if you imagine a scale of feminity to masculinity with like little pegs running down the line from 0 to 10, with 5 in the middle, I tend to find myself attracted to people in like the 4 to 8 range? Something like that. But even that's not perfectly consistent! There's never going to be a perfect word for everything. That's why I like queer as an umbrella term. It's also just a cute word, I don't make the rules.

Hence earlier when I mentioned that you should just feel free to keep it open and not close yourself off. Maybe nothing'll change, but what if something does? But of course, I assume you're asking from more of a place of just starting this journey. I'm trying to get my mind back to where I started with that. I think the first time the not-straight realization hit was when a friend of mine didn't show up to an event and I was all like "why am I so miserably sad that he wasn't there?" And then a lightbulb appeared over my head and out-loud I said "aw damnit." And then things have been weird and confusing ever since.

But in terms of giving advice, it's hard to not just be like "uhh idk just hang out with people that makes you feel gooey." But obviously it's more complicated than that. A decade ago, I was taking random "am I gay" tests online. But they're kinda silly cause the questions on those would ask me to fill in information about how I feel, but how am you supposed to know how I feel without the test telling me how I feel??????? So realistically, I'd advise private journaling. Just take some time, even five minutes. Start now. Write out who you are drawn to, in any sense, and how they make you feel. Especially if you're like me and have trouble self-reflecting unless I force myself to. Like. In a Tumblr post.

There's so many ways to explore. It's also nice to look at relationships in life and media and seeing if you connect to any relationship or long to fit into someone's place within a relationship. That's why representation matters, baybeeeee! But also, ya'know, talking to people goes a long way to learning about yourself. Trial 'n error let's gooooo.

And above all: you got this.

#jay rambles

218 notes · View notes

ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey · 2 months ago

Note

How about jealous Ginny for a prompt? I mean there are plenty of jealous Harry stories but for once I want to need to see a jealous Ginny! Loved the overprotective Harry btw❤️🩷

They - quite literally - run into her at the Leaky Cauldron.

Ginny was walking backward, grinning wickedly at Harry as she tried to surmise just how many photographers would swarm Diagon Alley once word had spread that he was there, while Harry continued to argue he should at least be allowed to don the Invisibility Cloak.

“No, no, I’ll look insane talking to myself all day. You’ve got to face society, sometime, Potter,” Ginny was saying. “Some would say it’s your responsibility, no your duty to–”

“--my duty?”

“--to spend the day dodging photographers for your girlfriend. Isn’t that your whole deal? Self-sacrificing, hero–”

“Rita Skeeter is worse than Voldemort.”

It was precisely the moment when Ginny let out a loud, unattractive Ha! that her back came into contact with a person turning away from the bar. It’s all a bit of a flurry for a few moments - a folder of papers flutters to the floor, Ginny stumbles and corrects herself with an “Oh Merlin I’m so sorry,” Harry jolts forward helplessly as though to catch… something.

Ginny turns to apologize more earnestly, when she realizes that she knows the person she’s just crashed into.

“--I’m such an idiot, are you– Oh! Cho!”

“Er, hi,” Cho Chang says, a bit ruefully. “It’s good to – oh, no, don’t worry, I can–”

Cho flaps her hands uselessly, for Harry has bent over to pick up the papers Ginny had knocked to the floor.

“Here,” Harry says, stuffing the papers haphazardly back into the folder and thrusting it out toward Cho.

“Thanks,” Cho says, and then a horribly awkward silence swallows them all.

Ginny struggles for anything to say. The only idiotic thing she can think to say is - You look pretty - because Cho does. Her silky black hair is swept up into some elegant looking chignon, and it’s clear she’s done up her makeup a bit more than usual. She’s wearing smart robes that are fitted elegantly, and her soft-pink nails are perfectly shaped.

“Are you two off to Diagon Alley?” Cho says, with an air of desperation to fill the silence.

“Yes,” Ginny says, latching on to the subject like a life raft.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “Picking up school things for Ginny.”

“Oh!” Cho says, turning to Ginny in surprise. “Do you have another year of school left, then?”

The question, in conjunction with Cho’s very grown-up elegance, leaves Ginny feeling particularly infantile and irritable; their two-year age-gap seems suddenly to span decades. “Yep,” Ginny says, a note of petulance creeping into her tone. “Finishing up my NEWTs.”

“Good for you!” Cho says, in a way that manages not to sound patronizing, even though Ginny's certain it is. “I don’t know if I could go back to school, after every–”

Harry, shooting an alarmed glance at Ginny’s expression, interjects. “Did you do some shopping today, as well?”

“Oh! Er, no. No I… I just finished up a job interview, actually, in one of the back rooms here.”

“Did you?” Harry says, raising his eyebrows. “Nice. Hope it went well.”

“Me too,” Cho says, looking at Harry a bit shyly, now. Ginny narrows her eyes. “Actually, I’m glad I ran into you. The job - it’s in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“Really?” Harry says, and he sounds genuinely interested now. “What role?”

“Oh, something administrative. I’m not very interested in field work, I’d much rather be working on the policy side of things, but – well, I’d actually wanted to thank you. Everything was so in flux after—well, in May, and I never got a chance to–”

“Thank me?” Harry says, sounding baffled. “You don’t–”

“I do,” Cho insists prettily, wringing her hands prettily, sounding pretty. “You were so brave, what you did. Facing him. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you– And honestly, I wouldn’t even have had a chance at this job if it weren’t for the DA. I think they only interviewed me because I mentioned I’d been a part of it–”

“Really,” Harry says awkwardly, “it’s nothing, you don’t need to–”

“It’s isn’t nothing, at all!” Cho says emphatically, tucking a silky strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’ve made such a difference for everyone and I’ve been wanting to tell you but I–”

“Don’t be modest, Harry,” Ginny interjects hotly. Cho’s gushing so much they all might drown in it. In fact, Ginny wouldn’t mind all that much if Cho did.

Harry shoots her a wary look, and then turns back to Cho. “That’s, er, really nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” Cho says. “I heard you’ve joined the Aurors, is that true?”

“Er, yeah–” Harry says, ruffling his hair anxiously. It strikes Ginny then, as it so often does, that Harry is quite good-looking, now. Not that he hadn’t been, before, but months of regular eating and living out from under the thumb of the threat of constant death has been good to him - go figure. He’s filled out and bought clothes that fit and Ginny’s very much enjoyed it all until this moment, when it strikes her that he could stand to be a bit less handsome, all piercing eyes and messy hair and wry smirks directed at Cho bloody Chang. “I have.”

“I knew you would,” Cho says, like she’s some insider expert on Harry’s tendencies. “We’ll be in the same office, then, if I get this job!”

“Oh!” Harry says, coming up short. “That’s—” he shoots a glance at Ginny. “That’s great.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ginny says in a passable impression of earnestness that she’s positive does not fool Harry. “Really, really, wonderful.”

Cho looks at Ginny as though she’s only just remembered that she’s there. “Yes, well. Are you still interested in doing the Quidditch thing, Ginny?” Cho asks.

“Oh, who knows?” Ginny says brightly. “Maybe I’ll do the Quidditch thing, or maybe I’ll go be an Auror too. It’ll be a regular party, the three of us.”

Cho’s smile falters a bit. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

“Lovely,” Ginny agrees. “Just lovely.”

Harry coughs, and then they’re plunged into a miserable silence once more.

“Well,” Ginny says heartily. “We’ve got to get a move on. Those photographers won’t dodge themselves, you know.”

“Oh, of course,” Cho says. “Well, it was lovely to see you both.”

“Lovely,” Ginny agrees.

“Yeah,” Harry says.

“Best of luck at school, Ginny,” Cho says, and Ginny hates that she sounds like she means it. “And maybe I’ll be seeing you in the office, Harry.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry chuckles, “Maybe! Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Cho says, and then she gives them an awkward wave and departs.

Once the door has closed with a jingle of the bell above it, Ginny turns to Harry, her eyebrows raised.

“Ginny…” Harry says with trepidation.

“Looks like you’ve got a new office best mate!” Ginny says with supreme sarcasm. “I’ll tell Ron he’s been usurped, he’ll cry for a bit but I’m sure he’ll manage–”

“She might not even get the job–”

“Oh, no. She will. I mean, she name-dropped you and the DA, that’s sure to give her a leg up, never mind that she wasn’t even at school last year with the worst of it, never mind the whole thing disbanded because of her stupid friend–”

“I don’t think that’s what she–”

“I’m just so glad that while I go months without seeing you, you’ll get to pal around with Cho Chang, I was so worried that you’d get lonely without me, but now–”

“Ginny,” Harry says with an awkward laugh. “Come on, you know that’s not how it is.”

“She can go on thanking you for what a bloody hero you are,” Ginny continues. “I don’t think anyone’s told you that in about five minutes, so it’ll be good to get a nice top up from her when you’re feeling down.”

“Well, sure,” Harry joins in. “You know I can’t go more than six without being reminded.”

Ginny pats his chest. “So brave. There. Do you think that’ll last you until we get to the book shop?”

“I might need a quick round of applause in the apothecary.”

Ginny snorts. “Oh, come on, then,” Ginny says. “Maybe we’ll run into Fleur’s little sister, too, if we’re really lucky.”

They make their way through the brick entrance to Diagon Alley - a far cry from the days of the war, the street is bustling and busy once more. They take a circuitous route to Flourish and Blotts, taking care to walk quickly so that not too many people take notice that Harry Potter is in their midst, and because Ginny cannot bear the sight of her brothers’ joke shop, once alive and bustling and colorful and loud, boarded up and quiet. It’s a bit too on the nose.

They make it nearly to the front door of the book shop before Ginny can’t take it anymore. “Did you hear the way she asked if I was doing ‘the Quidditch thing’?” she snarls, halting them just outside the door. “Like it was some cute little hobby, never mind that she was a Seeker too. Not a very good one, mind, but still!”

Harry has the gall to look faintly amused as he pulls her off to the small alleyway next to the shop. “I’m sure that’s not what she meant. Professional Quidditch is really difficult, she knows–”

“Oh you’re sure, are you?” Ginny spits, rolling her eyes. “Just like she just knew you’d become an Auror? Someone alert Professor Trelawney, we’ve got another Seer on our hands. No one without a powerful Inner Eye could’ve possibly predicted that–”

Harry grins and shakes his head. “You do know I’m not thrilled about this either, don’t you?”

“I can’t imagine why,” Ginny rants. “It’s perfect, your girlfriend will pop off to Scotland and you can hang round with your ex instead!”

“My ex?” Harry says, an eyebrow raised. “We went on one date when I was fifteen and it was terrible.”

“Oh that’s only because you were both traumatized,” Ginny says airily. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled at the chance to reconnect now that you’re both older–”

“Ginny,” Harry says, the amusement replaced with something firm. “You’re not really worried about this, are you?”

Ginny can’t look him in the eye. She’s so irritated, so bothered, that it takes her a moment - she wants to say yes of course I’m worried, did you see how annoyingly pretty she was and the way she looked at you - but she doesn’t. Because it’s not true, not really. As she’s tried to rebuild in the rubble after the war, Harry’s been the one thing she’s sure of through all of it, and she reckons he feels the same. No, she knows he does. She knows he’s not interested in doing anything with Cho Chang.

Ginny takes a deep, calming breath, and meets his eyes. “I just really fucking hate that she might get to see you every day and I–” her voice catches.

Harry pulls her in and gives her one of those hugs that seems to calm every cell in her body, like he might be able to shield her from everything bad in the world. She can’t believe that in two weeks, this is a comfort she won’t have, anymore, reduced instead to stolen moments at Hogsmeade weekends and words scribbled in letters.

“I really fucking hate it, too.”

Ginny burrows her head deeper into his chest, and breathes in the woody smell of him. Finally, she says. “You were right, you know. I can admit it.”

“What?”

She pulls back and looks at him. “I really should’ve let you wear that damn Invisibility Cloak.”

#hinny #missing dh moment #jealous!Ginny

165 notes · View notes

mikanotes · 9 months ago

Text

COMEBACK/APOCALYPSE

eunhyuk x gn!reader — 577 words.

genre: angst/comfort, (probably) established relationship

warnings: mentions of death, grief, and swearing. nothing else i think!

synopsis: Eunhyuk returns. You don’t know how to deal with it.

author’s note: i miss him so have this. also me when you’re coming back and it’s the end of the world and we’re starting over and i love you darling and i am done

“You’re dead.” you say, “I’ve finally made peace with that. You should not be here.”

Steady as your voice may be, you’re unsure how much of your carefully crafted detached exterior manages to hold up in the face of Lee Eunhyuk’s apparent return to life. He looks as calm as usual. The way he stares at you feels somewhat unnerving— A gaze that refuses to let go, one that pierces right through you.

You feel the walls around you crumbling before you can do anything about it. You never stood a chance. “Eunhyuk.” you sigh, tone almost pleading. Please tell me you’re real. Please tell me you’re alive. Even if it makes no sense, say it, please. You hold his gaze as he takes a few short steps towards you.

“I’m sorry.” he says. Your throat feels tight and your eyes sting. “That you grieved for something that wasn’t gone.”

This is so much worse. But there isn’t a good way this situation could’ve gone.

This is one year and some months of sinking into a void of growing despair, with nothing to grab onto to stop it. It’s one year and some months that really feel like a decade of your very heart withering away. It’s one year and some months of surviving a monster apocalypse, and somehow having the sight of the person you craved to see the most be the thing that truly breaks you. The floor feels like it’s disappearing under your feet. You’re falling again, and it feels ten times worse and more instant. Like death. You’re dying and he’s saying sorry for not ever truly leaving.

“No, I,” you pause, forcing yourself to actually breathe, “I grieved over someone that was gone. You were gone. This was over a whole year without a single sign from you. An entire year of forcing myself to believe everyone’s words. ‘He’s dead’, ‘He’s gone and under the crumbled building’, ‘You’ll never see him again’, that was real.”

Eunhyuk doesn’t say a word.

“I didn’t want to believe it. I was so sure of it— That you weren’t really gone. You wouldn’t leave so easily. I didn’t believe it at all.” you shake your head, gaze moving aimlessly, “I eventually had to stop believing, and I’m sorry that I did. But you can’t just come back this way.”

“Should I leave?”

He’s dead serious, the fool. Polite and conscious of the boundaries he might’ve pushed by simply making himself known to you again.

“No. Are you kidding me?” you take a step forward, but it’s awfully hesitant. Like if you get too close you’ll see his skin is translucent and he was never really there and you’d been yelling at the wall. “You can’t leave. Not again.”

What are you supposed to do with all these feelings? It’s terrifying. He really is here.

“What can I do?” he asks, tone as steady as you’d hoped yours would come out. Every moment you practiced that false image of calm, your reference had subconsciously been Eunhyuk. Calm and level-headed, mature, the perfect leading figure. You’d never see Lee Eunhyuk slip up over his own emotions. That’s what you strived for.

But as it turns out, it’s not easy to be like this.

So out of touch. You need to make sure.

“Take my hand.” you say, ask, “Please.”

He looks down at your hand, then back up at you when he shortens the distance between the two of you. His hand is careful when it takes yours, slowly bringing it up between both of your chests. His skin is just as cold as it was, as cold as you remembered. Rough, contrasting how gentle his movements are. You stare at him and he stares at your hand.

“Now?”

“Now you promise not to die without me.”

That’s not something he can promise, you know it already. His expression tenses for a moment, like he’s in pain, but it’s gone just as fast. “I can’t promise you that.” he says, looking up at you, “You know that.”

“You’re the worst person I know.” you say, lying through your teeth. Eunhyuk carefully reaches his free hand towards your face, pressing his palm to your jaw.

“I am, aren’t I?” he says quietly, expression unchanging. “I’d usually call bullshit, but I admit I sort of believe you, all things considered.”

You scoff but it’s hard for it not to turn into a laugh. It’s light and not the definition of happy but it feels somewhat comforting. Your heart feels painfully tight. There’s something inordinately scary about allowing yourself to hope again.

“You know, once it actually clicks in my head that you’re really here, I’m going to cry like I never have before?”

“Don’t waste your energy on that.” he hums, “Still, I’ll be here through all of it, if it happens. I’ll be there. I won’t leave again. Not like last time.”

You lean down until your forehead hits his shoulder. He moves his hand to the back of your head, and the other just tightens around your own. There’s no need for more than that to say I love you, silently, in your own way.

“You will?”

“I can promise you that much.”

#lee eunhyuk x reader #eun hyuk x reader #eunhyuk x reader #lee eun hyuk x reader #lee eunhyeok x reader #eun hyeok x reader #eunhyeok x reader #lee eun hyeok x reader #sweet home x reader #x reader

410 notes · View notes

scoops-aboy86 · 5 months ago

Text

Crushing (Secret Admirer pt 6)

Steddie Week 2024, July 6: Dizzy / drunken confessions / Crush on You by Bruce Springsteen

Fun fact: there are “sorry”s to correspond with a nat 20. It’s a luck thing, though more reflexive than actually hopeful.

If you turn 6 upside down it's a 9 and today's the 9th, so I would argue that I am still right on time. 🙃 Anyway, I didn't get to the drunken confession part but it was getting too long, so that can be in the last chapter. Enjoy!

wc: 3034 / rated: T / set during season 3 / also on ao3

Sweet Steve, perfect Steve, golden Steve,

Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry SORRY

I cannot adequately express how much I regret hanging up on you. It happened a few minutes ago and I’m already writing this because I can’t call back now, not after that. I can’t believe I even did that, I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid because you were saying all these perfect things? Literally everything I never thought I’d get to hear from anyone ever and then I ruined it.

(The scribbles in the margins are representative of all the times I stop writing just to explosively cuss myself out for being so chickenshit. It looks messy but I am a mess and it’s all my own doing, made my bed and lying in it etc. etc., if I could mount my own head on a pike right now I would Jesus H. CHRIDJDBBWLSNEVEOALAVSVALAMDBDBXJXLFKENSVAVWUELMFBDUSKANS <— an example and demonstration)

I’m sorry I’m a coward. I’m sorry I started this and can’t seem to follow through, I’m sorry I keep yanking you around when it’s not what you deserve sweetheart, it isn’t at all. You were perfect, do you hear me? I had a whole list of songs planned, but picked that one spontaneously because you weren’t digging WASP and I was thinking about the way you’re so hard on yourself sometimes about the guy you were in high school, even though all high schoolers are idiots. (With how many times I’ve had to repeat, I am an expert on this, obviously largely from personal study and reflection.) You didn’t peak in high school, Steve, because you are a wonderful person right now and that’s what matters. You call yourself a romantic sap but I love that about you, please never lose that.

With every letter you’ve poured out a little of your soul; it only seems right that I try to do the same to make up for my… everything.

I’m a guy. I’m gay. I’ve never written that down before so explicitly but it’s true. You were so thoughtful about the whole music thing and trying to show we can have common interests but, to be blunt, unless dick is one of those I don’t think this is going to work out.

No hard feelings obviously. It’s on me for letting this go on so long without being more honest. This is absolutely no reflection on you and does not make you queer by association. I won’t tell anyone—though if I did I’m not considered credible or trustworthy in this town, believe me.

If you’ve read this far… I mean, I won’t know unless you tell me, obviously. But it doesn’t have to mean anything other than that you’re a good dude. The only person in my life who knows about me and knows my name is the man who’s more like a father to me than my “real” dad; it’s nothing personal, I’ve just had some bad experiences. Remember that concussion I mentioned? … Yeah, that was courtesy of the ol’ sperm donor. Thought I was over freezing up about it after more than half a decade, but no such luck!

On that note, I need to go… not be a person for a while. Take care. I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

P. S. The song you said you liked was Rainbow In The Dark by Dio, off his Holy Diver album. It’s a good album, even if I’ve blown it with you I still hope you check it out sometime.

Eddie drops the pen over the side of his bed, practically throwing it. He drops the notebook he’d scribbled the letter in to the floor; he’ll tear it out and mail it later.

Probably.

Maybe.

He’ll think about it, once he’s done not wanting to think anything at all.

Dear Secret Admirer,

Are you okay? I can’t call you back, so the best I can do right now is write. I shouldn’t have pushed you again, I keep doing that, like an idiot.

I was having a nice time

Call back whenever, if I’m there I’ll pick up. Call back tonight even, except I can’t get this in the mail until tomorrow so never mind, but I won’t be mad, I promise. Or you can write to me. Please. At least to be friends, if you’re tired of how I always come on too strong (which is literally what Robin keeps telling me with that damn whiteboard all the time, go figure). And maybe you can tell me more about your music, like that one with the rainbows? I think that maybe you’ve been writing to me so much because maybe you’re lonely too, and I know how much that sucks.

So, I’ll be here. Whoever you are, wherever, I hope you’re okay. Stay safe.

— Steve

All Steve can think about is how stupid he was, pushing Secret Admirer like that. He hasn’t gotten a letter yet, and genuinely doesn’t know if he ever will again.

Robin doesn’t ask why he’s quieter than usual during work for the next few days. Dustin returns from Camp Know Where and Steve tells him he doesn’t want ice cream because he has to stay in shape for the ladies, but it leaves the bad taste of a mostly-lie in his mouth.

Because, oh yeah, breaking news: he thinks Secret Admirer is probably a guy.

That would explain the adamant secrecy, the way the letters are careful not to suggest one or the other. No matter how embarrassing Steve is, a girl would have less to lose compared to a gay dude being outed in Hawkins. And he knows for a fact there were rumors circulating after Jonathan Byers gave him his first and mildest concussion in ‘83. Rumors about what he’d said, what he’d spat at the guy, all no doubt spread by Tommy and Carol. All his past actions coming together to prove that he can’t be trusted, can’t be confided in, even after everything.

It’s almost secondary that it doesn’t seem to make a difference to his feelings. He may have fallen for someone who happens to be a guy—so what? It’s better than crushing loneliness. Better than no one caring. Better than being forgotten aside from his douchebag legacy at school and all his parents’ dashed aspirations for his future.

Then Steve finds himself trapped in a Russian elevator with Robin, Dustin, and Lucas’s little sister (who should absolutely not be here, what the fuck were they thinking) and he just.

He just regrets never getting to say goodbye.

Eddie gets Steve’s letter the day he manages to crawl out of his room long enough to mail his own, checking his PO Box like a nervous tic. He’s absolutely floored by what he reads and screams into his pillow some more because it doesn’t change anything, because Steve wrote it while still not in possession of all the facts.

After a drive out to Reefer Rick’s to replenish his stash, Eddie does the bare minimum of his regularly scheduled drop-offs. No rest for the wicked, because even the wicked need gas money and shit, but it’s all just halfhearted busy work.

Then he goes home. Against all common sense and knowing that for the sake of his own heart he probably shouldn’t, he spends the rest of the day trying to call. Every time he punches in the numbers with his heart in his throat, but no one ever picks up.

“Ask me anything,” Robin prods blearily from her stall. “Interrogate me.”

Steve tries to think through the swimming in his head. “Okay, uh… When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today!”

He almost laughs. “No way. What?”

“When the Russian doctor brought his bone saw out. It was just a little bit though!”

He can picture her holding one hand up, fingers pinched together to indicate a tiny amount. And, okay, fair. “Yeah it’s definitely in her system,” he mumbles to no one.

“My turn,” she declares. “Have you… ever been in love?”

Steve does laugh this time, not because it’s funny but because the question hits him right between the eyes. “Shit, yeah, a couple times. Uh, first was Nancy Wheeler, junior year.”

“Ooooh… She’s such a priss, though.”

“Yeah, turns out, not so much.” He shrugs, even though she can’t see, hands dangling from where his arms are draped over his bare, scraped knees. There isn’t a part of him that doesn’t ache—including his stomach and throat now, fucking Russian drugs.

“Huh.” Robin pauses. “So… who was second?”

Sighing, Steve drops his head back against the metal divider at his back. “That blind phone date I told you about.”

It’s a toss-up as to whether he’s admitting this because of the aforementioned drugs or because he’s just too tired to give a shit anymore. What does it really matter, at this point?

“Really? Wow. Okay, I didn’t realize that got so serious.”

Steve lets his eyes fall closed, despite what is likely his third concussion in almost as many years. “It kind of didn’t, I just got… over-invested, I guess. I don’t know if he’s going to write again anyway.”

“H… he?”

“I think so. It was a secret admirer kind of deal, so I never actually knew, but… every time I brought up meeting in person, things went wrong. And like an idiot I kept doing that, so. I don’t know for sure, but I think it might be over.”

Robin’s hand smacks on the tile floor—gross. “How do you not even know for sure after a phone date? Gay guys still sound like guys, Steve.”

“I know that,” he says, a little stung by her reproachful tone. “I talked and he didn’t, he just played some of his favorite songs for me to see if I liked them. Which I did, some of it. It was like, really hard rock or something, not what I usually listen to—”

“I’ll say, Mr. ‘No, Not My Wham! Cassette!’”

“—but it was okay. There were some really cool guitar parts.”

“And it… doesn’t bother you? That a guy was, uh, hitting on you?”

Again, Steve shrugs. “More writing love letters than just hitting on me, but… yeah. I was in pretty deep by the time I figured it out, but I guess not. Is it my turn to ask another question?”

“Um… Sure?”

He’s not sure why she sounds so nervous, figures it should be obvious what he’s going to ask next. It’s kind of a staple of their friendship at this point. “Who sent me that ice cream cone? The strawberry with rainbow sprinkles?”

Dead silence.

“Robin?” he asks with a flicker of nerves, because, well. It’s been a long day. (Or two days? He’s lost track of how much time they’d spent underground.) “You OD over there?”

“No… I am alive,” she replies, but in such a quiet voice that it doesn’t really reassure him all that much.

He shifts, scooting on his ass to get under the divider between them and pop back up on her side. It gives him a wedgie, but that’s the least of his problems.

Robin wrinkles her nose at him. “Steve, these floors are disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, I’m already covered in blood and probably some puke, so.” He tests his tongue on his bottom lip, trying to decide if the split is still bleeding or if it just stings for the hell of it. “Who was it?”

She bites her own lip, then whispers, “Is it your secret admirer?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure,” he tells her.

“Okay.” But she’s still hesitating. “Before I tell you… About what I said down there, about Click’s class. I wasn’t staring at you because of you, it… it was because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

Steve blinks, confused by the sudden change of topic. “Who? Mrs. Click?”

Robin shakes her head faintly without breaking eye contact, literally without blinking as she whispers, “Tammy Thompson.”

“But she’s a… Oh. Oooh.” He remembers Tammy. She’d always fawned over him in that class, back when he’d been so busy mourning the way things had gone with Nancy that he hadn’t given her the time of day. “Yeah, I guess I see the appeal. Pretty, perky, blonde… She’s a total dud though.”

Robin gapes at him. “What?”

He waves a hand. “I’d just broken up with Nancy, and she was all over me all the time, dropping these hints about wanting to go out. It’s like she wanted to be a rebound relationship.”

“So? She’s goal oriented!”

“She wouldn’t leave me alone! Also, she wants to be a country singer but she couldn’t hold a tune if someone put it in a bucket for her.”

Sputtering, Robin smacks at his shin, one of the few places he isn’t bloody or bruised. “I will not take this superiority from the guy who’s surprise-crushing on Eddie Munson!”

Shock zings through Steve like he’s just had his fingers jammed into an electrical socket. “On—really?”

He remembers Munson too. Who wouldn’t? Loud and weird, and the guy had always seemed perpetually on, always bristled like a porcupine. Stalking around campus in a black leather jacket regardless of weather and ripped black jeans. (Dark colors.) That denim vest with all the weird band patches on it. (Music that Steve didn’t know anything about.) Big flashy rings on his fingers, and Steve knows he’s in some sort of band, probably has guitar calluses. (Hands that would give him away at a glance.) Up on cafeteria tables with his Hellfire Club shirt and long hair, taunting the jocks who gave his friends shit. (Nerd, check. Not into sports, triple check. He’s pretty sure the dude had failed gym at least once for refusing to wear gym shorts.)

Literally the last person in Hawkins who should’ve had eyes for King Steve.

“Munson likes me?” Steve can’t feel his face too well, what with the beating he’d taken earlier during interrogation, so he’s not sure if he’s blushing. His voice definitely does something funny on the last word, though.

“He said not to tell you who it was from because he thought you might toss it if you knew it was from him,” Robin admits. “Which seemed like a reasonable concern at the time, but that’s because I didn’t know—”

But then Dustin bursts in on them. The kid looks frazzled, and from there on out it’s all running and more blood and a monster made out of people and fireworks and death, their bathroom conversation forgotten.

Eddie had given up on calling around the time the fireworks show started over the mayor’s kiss-ass 4th of July fair. Downed a couple beers while trying not to wonder if Steve found a date to take. Is still awake when Wayne comes in from his shift, and wanders out of his room because anything’s got to be better than staring at the ceiling.

“Starcourt burned down,” his uncle tells him while Eddie moves zombie-like through the motions of making them each a cup of coffee. “Radio said the police ain’t ruling out arson. Drove past it on the way, there’s search and rescue folks crawling all over the rubble lookin’ for survivors.”

After Wayne goes to bed, Eddie tries dialing Steve’s number one more time.

No one answers.

After much pleading from Robin, and since Steve’s car keys are still god knows where and his parents are out of town, the Buckleys graciously agree to let him stay in their guest room. It’s just as well, Robin insists; with the concussion, someone should be around to check on him every few hours.

“That’s only for the first twenty-four,” he points out the next day. He knows the drill.

“I don’t care,” Robin insists. “You took a beating to protect the rest of us. You could have been killed, Steve! I am checking on you every few hours for the rest of my life from now on, just see if I don’t.”

“Please don’t,” Steve groans, but he’s grinning. Despite the way his ribs and head throb, and the dark circle under the eye that isn’t literally still swollen shut, it’s nice to have someone to be normal with—not ignoring what had happened, he’d learned his lesson about that with Nancy, but taking it into account and then going ‘yes and.’ “Or at least make sure to always knock first.”

“Why w—Ew! Never mind, if you’re feeling good enough to make jokes then you’re probably fine, offer rescinded.”

“You’re still gonna,” Steve points out, then knocks back the painkillers she’s brought him. Mr. Buckley’s shoulder surgery prescription, meet two broken ribs, black eye, and recently re-set nose.

She sits on the edge of the bed, next to the duffel bag of clothes from his house that her mom had driven her to pick up for him. “Yeah yeah, shut up.”

Silence settles over them for a moment while Steve tries to get comfortable. And fails. His ribs really aren’t doing him any favors today. The discomfort is why he’s still in unflatteringly baggy shorts borrowed from Mr. Buckley and a t-shirt Robin had thrown at his head as a joke (and then helped him out on, since he can’t lift his arms that high without wanting to scream) that declares him a fan of Siouxsie and the Banshees.

He has no idea how to pronounce Siouxsie and is kind of afraid to ask.

“Sooo,” Robin starts. “Eddie Munson, huh?”

“Uh.” Steve can’t run a hand through his hair with his stupid ribs, not when he’s not running entirely on adrenaline or before the painkillers kick in, so he settles for twiddling his thumbs. “Yeah? I guess so. His letters are… They’re really good, Rob. I kinda don’t know why he keeps writing when my replies are so crappy. Like… I can’t even do them justice trying to explain.”

“Huh.” She waits a beat. “Well, I checked your mailbox, just in case, and there was a hand-addressed envelope that I brought back for you—”

Ribs be damned, Steve lunges for that duffel.

Tag list (and if you missed the earlier chapters check the "#secret admirer steddie" tag on my blog): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

#steddieweek2024 #scoops words #secret admirer steddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin

233 notes · View notes